#starryktown

[hobivore]

Cobalt blue

↠ PAIRING: KTH x reader x JJK

↠ WORDS: 11.3K

↠ GENRE: smut, artist (painter) au

↠ RATING: explicit (18+)

↠ SYNOPSIS: you ask Jungkook to draw you like one of his French girls. 

↠ WARNINGS: pwp, m x f x m threesome, soft power dynamics (sub/switch!Jungkook, switch!Reader, dom!Taehyung), noona reader, voyeurism, exhibitionism, oral (f and m receiving), pussy worshipping (sorta?), drawing of specific body parts (yes it’s pussy), fingering, handjob, unprotected sex, (wrap it before you tap it!), dirty talk, mild overstimulation, orgasm denial, marking (hickeys, nail marks), choking, praise, Jungkook is a bit bratty but also a good boy, creampie, cumplay, longhaired!Jungkook and black perm!Taehyung because they live in my mind rent free, RIP Namjoon’s couch 

↠ A/N: this really got away from me and somehow ended up being over 10K. Shoutout to @hesperantha​ and @wwilloww​ for their endless support and help as my beta readers for this fic. Please check them out if you want to read some wonderful writing! 

© hauntedlilies Do not repost, translate or use my stories without my permission.

“Shit!” 

You look down, wide-eyed, at the blue goo seeping into your white cable-knit sweater. It drips all over your hands and trickles down the front of your pants. 

Realising you’re still holding the glass jar you somehow managed to save from shattering to pieces — cobalt blue scribbled in messy handwriting on the sticker — you hastily put it back in its place, cursing both your clumsiness and Taehyung’s science experiments in what he calls “the search for van Gogh’s soul”. 

Disgruntled, you look at the potpourri of pots and jars filled with colourful paint. You bet the post-impressionists did know how to tighten a lid. 

A blue blob runs down your wrist and you watch how your sleeve soaks it up eagerly. The thought of having to wring van Gogh’s spirit out of your sogged sweater makes you wince — the poor man has been through enough already during his days on earth, and your recklessness just might have made the afterlife a whole lot worse.

Speaking of the course of one’s life, you are not ready to die of cobalt poisoning just yet; slowly withering away like the cornflowers on the roadside verge behind your grandmother’s house, rich pigment seeping through your skin to taint your blood. 

Wiping your paint-covered hands on your butt — pants deemed a lost cause long ago — your eyes scan the studio for something to change into. Taehyung and the two other artists he’s sharing the workshop with will often leave some spare clothes or aprons lying around. 

The studio is a roomy place with a high ceiling, located in an old elementary school. It could’ve been cold and impersonal if not for Namjoon’s thoughtful touches; he might as well be called Midas with the way he can transform a room. 

A variety of houseplants are scattered around the place, some drooping down from the ceiling. Terracotta pots and tattered Persian rugs fill the studio with an earthy warmth and the large leather couch and armchairs give it a more homey feel. 

You already know you’re not going to find anything wearable in Taehyung’s workspace; he prefers to not let his supplies lie around. 

Taehyung has set up his easel next to the tall windows which gives him the opportunity to use the natural light he likes so much. It’s one of the reasons why he picked this atelier, the other two being the company and the space — he teaches art classes sometimes, and the room allows for up to eight students.

Hoping she’ll forgive you for nosing about you scramble around Maggie’s workbench, eyeing the delicate sculptures waringly. Please don’t elbow one off the table. 

Meticulously slow to avoid smearing any paint onto Namjoon’s plants — he takes pride in being a pacifist, but you have the feeling he wouldn’t hesitate to kill you if you hurt any of his leafy children — you bumble around, eyes sweeping over heaps of clay, pottery tools and glasses filled with suspiciously coloured liquids. 

Maggie and Namjoon are away for two weeks on some sort of silent meditation retreat and it appears they’ve taken most of their belongings with them. Namjoon’s corner is filled with nothing but canvases, jars with more paint (you make sure not to touch any this time), and other art supplies. Still no clothes, not even a raggy apron. 

You pause at Namjoon’s easel, a large canvas resting against the wood. Hundreds of small dots form the outline of a blue lake tucked away between green mountains. 

It’s beautiful even in its unfinished state: it gives it an inescapable, unpolished feeling.

Tilting your head you take in the landscape. You might prefer it this way — with all its slight imperfections, a little rough around the edges. 

Namjoon of course won’t rest before he’s dotted down the last dot. Shoulders slumped above the canvas, working diligently for hours on end. He always works in complete silence, saying he prefers having enough room in his head to let his thoughts flow freely. 

Silence makes you jittery: it takes you a long time to be at peace with your thoughts, to bridle them without constricting.

It was Namjoon who suggested you try figure modelling after he’d seen you pose for Taehyung once. Told you it might help organise the mishmash of ideas in your head. 

You can’t say you’re fully there yet — but you’re trying.

Last week you posed for Taehyung’s advanced figure drawing class. One of the students forgot his pencil studies and Taehyung has hung them on the sides of his cabinet.

You walk over to his workplace and stop before the collection of sketches. Your own face is staring back at you in graphite — eyes solemn, hand-drawn snippets of a moment in time. You resist the urge to trail the lines with your fingers. How much of it is really you, and how much of it is the artist’s interpretation?

Sighing, you turn to the window and watch the snowflakes falling outside. You’ll have to wait until Taehyung comes back from the store and face the mortification head-on.

You can already picture him laughing: head thrown back and wheezing, clutching his stomach while he slowly rolls off the couch in his typical dramatic fashion. 

But then you spot it out of the corner of your eye — half-hidden under Namjoon’s en plein air studies. 

Your saviour. 

You’ve never been happier to see a quilt. You have to thank Namjoon for always being so thoroughly prepared. It’s the middle of winter and despite the roaring heater, one can never have enough blankets. 

Stretching out your hands to snatch the blanket away you realise they’re still covered in barely dried paint. You squint at them — Namjoon prefers high quality, natural materials over polyester and you’re not going to ruin his expensive blanket by plastering your grabby cobalt blue-covered hands all over it. 

You’ll have to wash up first. Reluctantly, you leave the blanket and head towards the bathroom. You flick on the lights and—

Oh.

There really is paint everywhere. Which is a stupid thing to think, because you already knew that, but somehow you were still not prepared for the absolute mess you are.

Something about curiosity and a dead cat crosses your mind — except it looks like you did the killing and the animal in question was a giant squid. 

You snort. The contrast between your white sweater and the deep blue splatters covering you from neck to thighs make you look like an antique plate out of your grandmother’s China cabinet. 

Slowly, in an attempt not to cover the entire bathroom in paint, you strip out of your clothes until you’re left in nothing but your underwear. At least the paint hasn’t soaked all the way through and your white bra and panties are still spotless. 

You turn on the sink and start washing your hands and arms, watching the blue  pigment spiral down the drain. It curls and whirls around the clean water flowing from the tap in a delicate dance. It really is a pretty colour — of oceans and lakes and bright skies.

Glancing over at the pile of clothes on the floor you briefly wonder if you should try to get the paint out, but that might only make more of a mess. At least you’re clean again; you can try and save whatever’s left of your clothes later. If it’s even worth trying.

A door slams close and you flinch at the sudden sound — Taehyung must have returned. You dry your hands and arms with the towel, rubbing at your tender skin until there are no specks of paint left.

You check your reflection to see if you’ve missed any spots. You know Taehyung worked hard on getting the pigments just right and now you’ve ruined one of the most difficult colours to make. 

He’s going to sulk for a bit, and after that he’s going to laugh his ass off and never let you live this down. 

You take a deep breath, hand on the door handle; better to rip the bandaid off in one swift motion and just get this over with. 

You wince when the door bounces back against the wall — thrown open with more strength than intended — and step out of the bathroom, only to immediately halt in your tracks.

Dressed in all black: cargo pants and combat boots, a backpack slung over his shoulder — the man standing in the middle of the studio, wide-eyed like a deer caught in the headlights, is definitely not Taehyung.

“Jungkook? What are you doing here?” 

His eyes flash over your figure before anchoring themselves on the wall about two feet above your head. 

“H — hi noona,” he splutters, big cozy scarf still wrapped around his neck and a sketchbook under his arm. He looks completely out of place between the colourful paintings surrounding him, a bewildered look on his face. “I came for the lesson? I’m sorry — am I too early?” 

The lesson. Shit. You glimpse at the clock above the door — is it really 4 pm already? It seems you lost track of time while you were busy cosplaying a Jackson Pollock painting. 

Jungkook is still studying what must be a particularly interesting spot of plaster, gaze dropping to his shoes when you continue to gape at him without saying a word. You’re not even going to ask him where he got the key — Taehyung gives out spares freely like the Pope bestowing blessings. 

Today’s lesson was supposed to be about drapery and clothing folds, something you are currently terribly ill-equipped to help with.

The sensible thing to do would be to play it cool: excuse yourself for being late, walk over to the other side of the room and drape yourself in Namjoon’s blanket like a proper 17th century lady. 

Then make sure to never talk about this again. Pretend it never happened. 

So—

“Draw me like one of your French girls!” You blurt out.

“I — what?” His eyes finally land on yours, confusion written all over his face. 

Great. If it wasn’t enough to spill a full jar of paint all over yourself, you’re spilling words now too like the mindless fool you are; your mouth running away from you once more. Like the last time you saw him, at Jin’s birthday party — when you almost choked on a cupcake and accidentally let it slip that this was nowhere near as fun as Taehyung’s hands around your throat. 

He hadn’t been able to meet your eyes for the rest of the night.

“Yes,” you force yourself to sound chipper instead of anxious, “like this.” You wave your hand a little too stiffly up and down in front of your body. 

Jungkook appears to be mulling over your words, chewing on the inside of his cheek. 

“Okay,” he’s sounding a little unsure but holds up his sketchbook, “if that’s what you want?” 

What you want is for the earth to open up and swallow you whole, but there’s no way back now.

“Yes. Good. Um, right. Where do you want me?” You cringe. Stop making this even worse.

If he notices you wincing, he doesn’t acknowledge it but gestures towards the couch instead. You silently thank him for it. 

“Where’s Taehyung?” He takes off his jacket and scarf and hangs them over the back of the armchair before plopping down, loose black shirt billowing around his agile frame. You watch how it gets tucked between his back and the chair as he sits, fabric straining across his chest. 

That chest, which looks like it would feel so firm under your hands— 

You stifle a cough and take the couch opposite him, grimacing at your sharp movements, a stark contrast to his. 

“Tae went to the store to get some coffee. I need my 4 o'clock caffeine fill.”

A small smile pulls at his lips. “He might’ve mentioned you get really cranky without your coffee.”

You raise your eyebrows in mock surprise. “He said what? I can’t believe he would expose me like this.” 

“So he’s right, then.” Jungkook looks up at you, eyes glinting. The little brat. 

“You might just find out if it takes him any longer.” You can’t help but laugh at the way he scrunches his nose at that, the tense knot in your stomach loosening up a little.

Jungkook grabs his backpack and lays his graphite set on the coffee table, neatly placing his pencils in order of hardness. Your eyes trail over the crowded ink on his right hand and arm — he tends to wear long sleeves, so you haven’t had a good chance to look at them since he added the most recent tattoos. It’s messy, a little jumbled, but it oddly suits him.

He selects a yellow 2B pencil and flips his sketchbook open on his lap, eyeing you expectantly. 

You pull your legs up so you're sitting on your side, half-reclining with your elbow resting on the arm of the couch, fingertips softly pressed against the side of your head. You lay your other hand on top of your thigh and smile at him in what you hope is a reassuring manner. 

“Like this?”

Even though you were the one to pitch the idea to him in the first place you realise you have no clue what either of you wants. 

His eyes drift over your body, taking in the way the winter sun paints you in a soft glow. It’s as if he is looking at you for the first time — really looking at you, and you feel exposed under his warm gaze. It lights a fire deep in your belly and you force yourself to look out of the window, focusing on the snowy branches outside, willing that spark not to travel any lower. 

It’s just modelling. You’ve done this countless times before — for Taehyung, for groups of middle-aged men and women, for art students just fresh out of highschool.  

Nude, semi-nude, draped in silk: it’s nothing new. It’s not exciting. It’s cramps and stiff limbs and cold coffee and hours of being stuck in your head. You were just caught off guard, that’s it.

He finally nods and clears his throat, tearing his eyes away. His hand hovers above his sketchbook, pencil clasped firmly between his tattooed fingers.

When he turns his attention back to you the look in his eyes shifts; it’s one you recognize all too well. You’re no longer just you — you’ve transformed before his eyes into an assembly of shapes and curves, a playful dichotomy between light and shadow. 

He sets his pencil down and draws the first line.

Much like he’s studying you, you’re watching him. You’ve known Jungkook for a while now but you’ve never taken the time, or gotten the chance, to watch him this closely. Of course you’ve sneaked a few looks and stolen some glances — there’s no denying he’s a handsome man. You’ve got eyes. 

You might have watched the way his thighs flex under those ridiculously tight jeans he likes to wear sometimes, or how his eyes glimmer when he recalls one of his many pranks — just like you’ve studied the slope of Hoseok’s nose or the pillowy shape of Jimin’s lips. 

You’re also extremely bad at hiding your ogling, to Taehyung’s great amusement. He does it on purpose sometimes — flaunting his friends in front of you until your cheeks heat up and you slap his arm playfully in mock frustration. You’ve never said so outright but he knows you enjoy it as much as he does. His friends, of course, are more than happy to play along. 

It’s a good thing he’s not the only one who knows how to play this game. You remember the way he almost choked on his champagne when you introduced him to Lisa and her famously tight red dress at Hoseok’s New Year’s Eve party. It’s been almost a year and he still won’t shut up about it.

Granted, neither do you — it is a very well-fitted dress and the thought of peeling it off of her plays prominently in some of your fantasies. 

You shift your legs, trying to shake off this dangerous train of thought before it completely derails, thoughts circling back to the man in front of you.

Jungkook’s head is tilted slightly and he has his legs crossed underneath the coffee table, eyes switching attentively between you and his sketchbook, lingering on your figure every now and then.  

He’s told you that he wanted to improve his drawing skills. Jungkook is a game design major and a long-time friend of Taehyung, which is why he’s been getting lessons on the house. You told Taehyung not to give discounts to friends or else he’ll never make a dime, but he pointed out how Jungkook has never asked for a markdown unlike some of his other friends. And he remembers his own time at the academy, trying to make ends meet while living off instant ramen and cheap, watered down coffee. 

Artists need to support artists, he insisted. 

And that’s how you ended up agreeing on modeling for Jungkook for free. Okay, maybe his bright smile and strong hands had something to do with it — one of the latter currently holding the pencil in a loose grip, thick veins running along the back. Your eyes trail their meandering path across the muscles of his forearm, how they disappear in the crook of his elbow. Still, your gaze travels further. You press your legs together as you follow the curve of his bicep, trying to picture the tanned skin that continues under the fabric of his shirt.

You imagine how his hands would map your figure with as much resolve as they’re currently tracing it on paper. How his fingers would press into your skin, your body pliable under his touch. 

The way he sketches every curve is filled with confidence — the gesture of a guy who doesn’t treat anything in a desultory fashion. 

You feel it again, that heat, and you swallow down the embers before they grow from a harmless spark to something hotter and harder to quench. 

Stealing a glance at his face — hoping it’s discreet enough — you let your eyes sweep over his strong jaw and nose. On someone else they might have been too blunt but his features are softened by his large, round eyes and the gentle curve of his cheeks. 

His hair has been getting longer. He likes to tie it up these days to keep it from falling in his eyes. He used to hide behind that curtain, sometimes, but this look befits him. It highlights his neck and jaw, a few loose strands framing his face. 

You know him as a man of few words, carefully assembling his feelings before speaking. It’s not that he’s shy, per se — just thoughtful in the way he expresses himself. 

He sometimes looks out of place at parties: staring off into the distance, seemingly lost in his own world. But you’ve also seen him bounce up and down in excitement, giggling at a joke or whining when he’s the one who got the short end of the stick for once. 

Here however — bent over his sketchbook, brow creased in concentration — everything falls into place: all the facets that make up Jungkook are coming together.

Maybe you should talk, ask him about his studies. How is his mother doing? Did his sister pick a date for her wedding yet?

He pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek and holds his sketchbook at arm’s length, letting out a barely audible huff before bending back over the paper, face so close the pencil almost pokes him in the eye.

You smile. Not wanting to distract him, you draw the blanket of quiet closer around the two of you. Slowly, the remaining tension in your limbs dissipates — the soft scratching of pencil on paper the only sound in the room.  

“Having fun without me?”

The both of you had gotten so lost in the moment — you in your thoughts, Jungkook in his sketchbook — that neither of you noticed Taehyung entering the studio. 

Jungkook’s head snaps up, pencil clattering on the concrete floor. He scrambles to retrieve it before it can roll underneath the couch and you chuckle, sticking your hand up to wave back at Taehyung. 

You’ll just have to play it cool. Don’t think about the pile of paint-soaked clothes in the bathroom and certainly don’t think about the fact that you’re sitting on the couch in nothing but your underwear.

In front of Jungkook. Who should be drawing layers of silk and linen right now. 

Taehyung puts the grocery bag on a workbench and unbuttons his coat, throwing it over the easel behind him. Rolling up the sleeves of his patterned dress shirt he walks towards Jungkook and glances over the younger man’s shoulder at his sketchbook. 

Taehyung’s cheeks are flushed from the cold and his dark, curly hair is covered in snowflakes, rapidly melting in the heated air. The lighting makes them shimmer like a dusting of minute diamonds whenever he moves his head. 

“Looks like you don’t need me anymore.” He captures your gaze, mischief gleaming in his eyes and a teasing smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. You feel your cheeks heat — so much for playing it cool. 

Jungkook sighs solemnly. “I do. I can’t seem to get her hands right.” 

Taehyung smiles and pats him on the shoulder. “That’s why you’re here, aren’t you? Let’s get started.”

He walks over and you feel the couch dip when he wedges himself behind you. 

“If you find yourself getting stuck, a change in pose can help.” He gently pulls you upright into a sitting position, his legs on either side of yours and your back resting against his chest. 

Despite his chilly hands — you might have stolen his gloves earlier this morning — your skin feels feverishly hot, all too aware of his body against yours and Jungkook’s wriggling in the chair opposite of you, fiddling with his pencil. 

Taehyung never touches you during his lessons; you’re experienced enough to know what poses he wants to see without him having to do so much as ask. 

He nuzzles your neck, planting a soft kiss on your shoulder. “Sorry about the cold hands,” he murmurs against your skin. Liar. 

Suddenly, he pulls back. “Why do you smell like paint?” 

You roll your eyes. “We’re in your studio, Tae. Everything smells like paint.” 

“Maybe…” He hums, resting his chin on your shoulder. “But you smell like one in particular and I happened to notice that your clothes are gone. Or are those two things unrelated?” 

You try to keep a straight face but your heart leaps in your chest in a dance of embarrassment and desire when he concludes, “Looks like we should leave your drapery lesson for another time, Jungkook.”

A dense silence seems to stretch out between the three of you, cold shiver travelling down the length of your spine. You watch a look of bewilderment take over Jungkook’s face — undoubtedly a mirror to your own expression, eyes widened and mouth slightly agape. 

Curse Taehyung and his damned velvety voice. Curse Taehyung and his distaste for alcohol and his stupidly good memory, remembering every tipsy moment you’ve spent rambling on about his friend’s absurdly well-proportioned body. 

Something along the lines of telling him Jungkook could probably snap me in half like a twig springs to mind and it takes all your willpower to resist the urge to bury your face into your hands.

Taehyung slides his icy palms down your arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. 

Curse him indeed. 

“Is this okay?” His breath ghosts the shell of your ear. “We can stop anytime you want. Just tell me.” He looks at Jungkook, letting the question hang in the air between the two of you. 

Jungkook has stopped fretting — body stilled and taut like a rope. Something dark swirls behind his eyes when he holds your gaze and nods. 

“Yes.”

You let out a shaky breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

“Go on then.” You stick your chin out and angle your face towards Taehyung, watching him through your lashes, ignoring how your own voice betrays you — coming out wispy and much higher than expected. 

“Hm, bossy.” The corners of his mouth twitch and he unclasps your bra with nimble fingers, sliding the straps off your shoulders in one smooth motion. 

Jungkook’s hands jerk involuntarily, eyes dropping down from your face to your breasts, your nipples hardening when Taehyung’s cold hands brush up against them.

Jungkook swallows thickly and you feel the cinders in your belly flare up again — but this time you allow them to combust, flames licking hotly through your veins. 

Taehyung’s warming fingers trail lazily down your sides, taking their time until he reaches the hem of your panties. He hooks his thumbs underneath and you lift your hips to let him slide them down your legs. 

You kick your panties under the coffee table, Jungkook’s eyes closely following every motion. The rough material of Taehyung’s woolen dress slacks grazes your skin and you press your thighs together awkwardly, feet pressed to the cold floor. 

“What do you like to draw, Jungkook?” Taehyung’s voice is deep and steady, his heartbeat slow against your back. His thumbs draw soothing circles into your thighs.

It anchors you, finding comfort in the familiar feeling while your own heart so desperately tries to hammer its way out of your chest. 

Jungkook clears his throat with a sharp cough. “Animals. Plants. Flowers, mostly.” 

Your eyes drift to his right arm, a large tattooed flower on full display, surrounded by the myriad of ink.

You can feel Taehyung smile into your hair. “You’ll find that the human body is not so different.” 

Without warning he slips his large hands under your thighs and slowly spreads them open, hooking your legs over his knees, leaving your feet dangling off the couch. 

Across you, Jungkook makes a choking sound and you fight the instinct to close your legs, taking in the way his eyes darken and his entire body tenses up. If you thought he was tightly wound before it’s nothing compared to him now: shoulders rigid, his knuckles whitening around the pencil.

It sends a new wave of arousal straight to your core.

“Are you familiar with Georgia O’Keeffe’s work?” Taehyung inquires.

You recognize what you call his teaching voice — matter-of-fact yet pleasant. It’s a stark contrast with the heat between your legs and Jungkook’s taut jaw.

The younger man nods, strained. 

“Come closer.” Taehyung says and Jungkook rises to his feet a little too fast, nearly dropping his sketchbook on the floor. 

“Bring your sketchbook. We’re not done yet.” 

Jungkook closes the distance between you and drops down to his knees on the small rug in front of the sofa, eyes level with your centre. With the coffee table no longer a barrier between you, you could touch him if you lean forward — the thought sending your pulse racing. 

He’s looking up at you with heavy-lidded eyes and you want to reach out and fist your hands in his hair — anything to bring him closer, to feel his mouth and his tongue and his hands all over your body. 

You want to feel the muscles underneath his shirt, you want to trace your tongue along the edge of his jaw, you want—

“Stay there. No touching.” Taehyung’s voice drops lower, the pleasant tone turning into something darker.  

You squirm in Taehyung’s grip when Jungkook’s eyes travel over your body, embarrassment flaring up again as he drinks in the sight of you spread out before him. Unsure of where to leave your hands, you settle with resting them under your breasts, fingers intertwined to stop yourself from reaching out to him. 

Taehyung slides one of his hands to the inside of your thigh and dips two of his long fingers between your folds. You whimper at the sudden intrusion, his light graze gone in the blink of an eye. It’s nowhere near enough — you need more, more than just a hint of his touch. A soft whine escapes your lips, Taehyung's other hand squeezing your thigh in response.

“Just think of flowers, Jungkook.” He brings his hand up to his face, studying his fingers coated in your slick and admiring the way they glisten in the afternoon sun. 

“So wet already, and no one’s even properly touched you yet?” He turns his head back towards you. “Needy girl.”

You feel the heat rise to your cheeks when you hear rather than see him suck on his digits, pulling them out of his mouth with an audible pop. 

He hums, the low sound vibrating in his chest, “You taste so good.”

Jungkook is still frozen in place, enraptured by the way Taehyung’s tongue swirls around his fingers, licking up every last drop. 

“Do you want a taste too, Jungkook?” 

The other man’s eyes snap up at him. “I — y-yes,” he stammers, caught off guard by the sudden question. 

“Yes what?” Taehyung’s breath ghosts the shell of your ear, making your skin prickle with desire.

“Yes. Please,” Jungkook corrects. He rubs the top of his thighs with his hands, sketchbook and pencil lying abandoned on the ground next to him. His body sways softly from side to side, fighting a silent war against the urge to bend forward and taste you himself. 

“What do you think, sweetheart?” Taehyung raises a questioning eyebrow at you. “Should we give him a taste?” 

The sight of Jungkook patiently waiting on his knees is enough to persuade you. You whisper your affirmation and this time, you’re prepared for Taehyung’s touch; angling your hips up in a feeble effort to chase his fingers, but his grip on you is too strong. 

Taehyung stretches his arm and Jungkook leans forward to take his fingers into his mouth, lips closing around them as he savours the taste of your arousal, a low hum reverberating in his throat. 

“See?” Taehyung grins at the other man’s eagerness, “Sweet like nectar.”

Jungkook closes his eyes, brow creasing, the outline of his hardening length clearly visible against the fabric of his pants. He moans a muffled response around Taehyung’s fingers and you feel yourself get impossibly wetter at the sound. 

When Taehyung decides his fingers have been thoroughly cleaned he pulls them out of Jungkook’s mouth. His friend, in turn, opens his eyes again — pupils blown wide, irises so dark they’re barely distinguishable. He holds your gaze as he licks the remnants of your taste off his lips, relishing in the way you watch him through your lashes with heavy-lidded eyes, chest heaving a little faster than before. 

“Fuck, that was hot,” you breathe and Jungkook lets out a low chuckle. 

“Want to make you come on my tongue,” he whispers, “if he’ll let me.” He nods towards Taehyung, eyes crinkling with mirth. “Do you want me to, noona?” 

There’s a teasing lilt to his voice which rolls over your skin like a wave of burning desire — the thought of his mouth on you enough to have your mind reeling.

Taehyung lets out an amused huff and nudges Jungkook’s knee with his foot.“Don’t get too eager now, we’re not done yet,” he motions towards the floor, “pick up your sketchbook.”

Jungkook puffs up his cheeks but sits back on his heels and — much to your disappointment — grabs his pencil, flipping to a blank page.

“Then show me,” he says, eyes fixed on you as he sets his pencil down on the paper.

Normally, when you pose nude, artists will skim over the more private details and focus on the lines and curves of your entire body. 

But here — exposed, held bare before Jungkook’s eyes — there’s no place to hide. Taehyung’s large hands hold you in their firm grasp while Jungkook kneels between your legs, filling page after page with his sketches.

No one’s ever studied you like this and it sends another wave of heat down your spine, pooling between your thighs.      

This time his focus doesn’t shift. He works diligently, but there’s a tension in his jaw and a strain to his hands — as if he has to force himself to keep dragging every stroke along the paper. 

Taehyung’s hand travels down your stomach again, fingers skimming along your outer lips as he splays them out in a v-shape, spreading you even wider. 

“Look closely,” he instructs Jungkook, “isn’t she pretty?” He sweeps his thumb over your clit and you moan weakly, body turning to putty in his arms. 

“Such a pretty little cunt.” Your breath hitches in your throat at his lewd words, heat spreading through your limbs.

Slowly, Jungkook inches nearer, until your feet are almost touching his shoulders. He’s close enough now for you to notice the fluttering of his lashes against his cheeks and the little moles dotted on his skin — as if someone took a constellation out of the sky just to adorn his face with. 

It would be a lie to say you’ve never thought of him like this. You’ve thought about it many times but nothing could have prepared you for the sight before you — for the way he manages to look like an amalgam of saccharin and sin. For the way he drinks you in so openly, so truthfully, setting every inch of your body alight with his eyes alone.

“She is,” he breathes, unable to tear his gaze away, “so pretty.” 

You’re burning with need, wanting him, someone, to touch you so badly. He’s so close yet so far away, breath fanning against the inside of your thigh every time he turns his head to look down at the paper.

You groan and shift around between Taehyung’s legs, grabbing his wrist to try and get his hand to move, desperate to find some relief. 

He chuckles softly and drags his tongue from the crook of your neck to your ear. “Relax, sweetheart. I bet you’re dripping on the couch, making a mess,” he slides his hand along the apex of your thigh, fingers ghosting the edge of where you need him most — “isn’t she, Jungkook?”

Between your legs, Jungkook swallows thickly, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. “Yes,” he groans, palming himself through the fabric of his trousers with his free hand, “sh— she’s so wet, Tae.”

You grind your hips, feeling Taehyung’s firm length press against your lower back. You repeat the motion, hoping it will evoke a reaction, but he doesn’t budge.

“Please, Tae,” you plead, “touch me.”

Taehyung clicks his tongue and circles one of your nipples with the pad of his index finger, grinning into your hair when you arch into his touch. “Always so messy. Always so impatient.”

With one of his hands currently occupied, you try to close your legs but he’s one step ahead of you — both hands firmly back in place before you can snap your legs together. 

You pout, but Taehyung ignores your failed scheme and turns his attention to the man before you instead. 

“Jungkook,” he says firmly, “you’ve worked hard. Put your sketchbook away.” 

The younger man plants his left foot on the ground in an undignified scramble, hand on his knee—

“Did I tell you to get up?”

Jungkook shakes his head and resumes his kneeling position, twisting around so he can put his supplies on the coffee table. He adjusts himself in his pants, cock visibly straining against the material. 

You bite your lip, trying to imagine how heavy he’d feel in your mouth, how well he’d stretch you open. 

“Tae!” You gasp when there is a sudden nip at your earlobe. 

Said man laughs softly, soothing the skin with his tongue.“Baby, you’ve been so good,” he murmurs, “both of you have been so good. Do you think we should let Jungkook get a proper taste?” He looks down at the kneeling man, who seems captivated by the way you clench around nothing at Taehyung’s question. 

You grasp Taehyung’s forearms, angling your hips up in a silent plea. 

“Use your words. Tell him.”

When you look down at Jungkook you let out a bated breath, mesmerised by how wrecked he looks already — eyes glazed over, cheeks flushed and bottom lip swollen from where he’s been chewing on it.

“Kook — want you,” you breathe, inwardly cursing yourself for how pathetically needy that sounded. 

Jungkook doesn’t waste any time, nuzzling his nose against the inside of your thigh before licking a broad stripe through your folds, groaning at the taste. 

Your head falls back on Taehyung’s shoulder, knuckles whitening around his forearms when Jungkook’s tongue swirls around your swollen clit. He wraps his lips around the bud and sucks, your cries only muffled by Taehyung’s skin as you press your face into the crook of his neck. 

Taehyung twists his arms out of your grasp and grabs your chin, tilting your head towards him, lips finding yours in a messy dance of tongue and teeth.

“Ahh, fuck—” you keen into Taehyung’s mouth when Jungkook’s teeth graze softly over your sensitive clit. 

“You like that, noona?” He looks up at you, eyes gleaming as he takes note of the way you writhe under his ministrations, wrapping his arms around your thighs and pulling you closer towards his face. 

“Told you I wanted to make you come on my tongue. Been thinking about it since we first met at Tae’s birthday party.” He dips his head to give another generous swipe of his tongue that has you faltering. “That tight little skirt haunted me for days.”

You can’t help the string of curses falling from your lips — “Shut up,” you hiss, but there’s a fondness buried underneath the words, “I liked you a lot more when you couldn’t talk.” 

You twist your fingers into his hair and push his face back between your thighs. He laughs, the sound vibrating against your skin and sending little jolts of pleasure through your body.

Jungkook’s lewd, sloppy noises and your loud moans are the only sounds in the room — it’s filthy and messy, the way he eagerly laps up every fresh gush of arousal. The world turns blurry when he flattens his tongue, the paintings surrounding you reduced to colourful patches along the edges of your vision.

When Jungkook pulls back briefly, Taehyung sees a chance to slap your clit playfully and a surprised yelp falls from your lips, hips bucking up involuntarily. Jungkook grins into your cunt, moving his head to give Taehyung more room.

“I can’t wait to feel you tighten around my cock,” Taehyung groans into your neck, slippery fingers now rubbing small circles on your clit, alternating with the agile flicks of Jungkook’s tongue. 

“Can’t wait to watch Jungkook fuck you.” He punctuates his words with a tweak of his fingers. “You’d like that, don’t you?”

You whimper a meek response, unable to speak up, head lolling back as their combined motions wind you up tighter and tighter. Bringing your hands up to your chest you pinch your nipples between your thumbs and index fingers, simultaneously rolling your hips. 

Jungkook stiffens his tongue and loosens his grip a little, letting you grind on his face. Your toes curl, legs starting to shake, “Tae — ah, Kook — please,” you pant, vision swimming as the two men push you closer towards the edge you’ve been chasing, climbing higher and higher—

Suddenly Taehyung’s hand is gone, fisting into Jungkook’s hair and pulling him off you. “Not yet, Kook.”  

You whine and buck your hips up in an attempt to get Jungkook’s mouth back where it should be, but Taehyung’s other arm wraps around your waist to hold you firmly in place. 

He chuckles, low vibrations against your back, “Like I said. Always so needy.” 

Jungkook is still kneeling between your legs, chin covered in your slick and Taehyung’s hand in his hair — previously neat ponytail now a messy bun, loose strands falling into his eyes. He looks just as stunned as you, flushed and wide-eyed at the sudden loss of your building orgasm on his tongue. 

“Don’t you think Jungkook has worked hard enough already?” Taehyung whispers in your ear, tilting his friend’s head up to meet his eyes, “don’t you think he’s been a good boy?” 

You don’t miss the way Jungkook’s lashes flutter at the words and the faint whine that leaves his lips when Taehyung releases his hold on him. It’s a soft, melodic sound, barely audible but clear like glass. 

It might be one of the best sounds you’ve ever heard and you decide you want to hear it again, and again, and louder. 

Rising to your feet you tuck a loose strand of hair behind Jungkook’s ear. 

“You’re right, Tae. He has been a good boy.” You let the words roll off your tongue and dangle them in front of Jungkook, who latches onto them hungrily. 

You hold out your hands to help him up, his movements stiff after kneeling for so long. He groans, stretching his arms above his head. Your eyes fall on the little sliver of skin above his belt before drifting down to the prominent bulge in his pants. 

Taehyung stands up behind you, eyes following your gaze. “I know what you’re thinking,” he whispers in your ear, too soft for Jungkook to hear, “I know you can’t wait to sink down on his cock.” 

He grins, and you inadvertently shiver when he continues, “but I want you to take your time. I’ll be watching.” 

He straightens his back and smiles at you, all teeth and bright innocent eyes as if he didn’t just promise you the imminent gratification of another man’s cock. 

You should’ve known that Taehyung, the man who never rushes a meal, who savours every experience and draws your pleasure out like a stroke of his brush on a canvas would be no different when it came to Jungkook. His words tug at the simmering embers in your belly, arousal dripping down your thighs. 

He walks over towards the armchair, sitting down with elegant ease. If he were a forest lake, you would be the torrent rushing down after the first sunshine has melted the snow high up in the mountains. Long limbs draped gracefully, he rests his chin in his hand and cocks an eyebrow at you. 

You smile at him. He might appear serene, features stilled as if he was carved out of marble, but even the calmest lake can’t escape the springtide. Eventually, you’ll meet. 

Jungkook is still standing in front of you, arms folded and eyes darting between you and Taehyung. 

“Where do you want me?” He mirrors the words you spoke to him earlier that day, eyes glinting mischievously. 

While you thought he was nervous when he didn’t dare to look at you it appears he was only trying to be polite — not a shred of that well-mannered behaviour left now, his head tilted slightly as his gaze roams freely over your body. 

You can’t wait to wipe that smug grin off his face. 

“Don’t get too cocky now, Kook.” You are all too aware of your state of undress and the fully clothed men watching you. “Take your clothes off and lay back on the couch.” 

You steady your voice and stare at him when he meets your eyes, his brazen expression slowly faltering. “Put your arms behind your head.” 

He nods eagerly and scurries out of his clothes, letting them fall on the ground. 

Now it’s your turn to trail your eyes over his body — all hard planes, from his chiseled chest to his toned stomach. The intricate pattern of ink winds its way up along his right arm, interwoven letters and figures mottling his shoulders, which are emphasized by his small waist. You feel your pulse quickening when your eyes drop to his strong thighs, cock hanging half-hard between them.

From the glimpses you’ve seen and the way he religiously hits the gym every day there was no doubt in your mind that he would look good — but you’re still caught off guard by exactly how good he looks. 

This is fine, it really is, it’s superb, outstanding, terrific, absolutely fab, tip-top, please don’t say any of that out loud—

For the second time this day you find yourself tangled up in a knot of thoughts, unable to do anything but stare. 

He doesn’t give you the opportunity to ogle him for long, however, hastily fluffing up a cushion and lying down on his back, arms folded behind his head. 

You climb onto the couch, straddling his thighs. You take a moment to admire him — the way his chest rises and falls with every breath and how his skin flushes slightly under your heated gaze. 

He’s taken out his hair tie, black hair framing his face in gentle waves, slightly creased by how tightly he’d wrapped the elastic. He looks up at you, absentmindedly biting his bottom lip in anticipation of your next move. 

“Can I touch you?”

He nods, his affirmation a whisper on his lips. 

Resisting the urge to crawl a little higher and sink yourself down on his cock — Taehyung’s reminder still floating somewhere at the back of your mind, his presence sticking to your skin like honey — you run your nails up Jungkook’s thighs and he inhales sharply, eyes still fixed on your face.

“You like that, Kook?” You press your nails into his skin, a little harder this time.

And there it is — that sound. Eyes closed, he lets out another whine as you watch how purple crescent moons blossom underneath your fingertips. 

You lean forward until your face is next to his. “I want to mark every inch of your body,” you whisper into his ear and he hums in response, trembling underneath you when you trail your teeth down his clavicle, sucking dark bruises into his skin. 

“Noona— ahh,” he gasps as you nibble on the sensitive spot behind his ear, soothing the marks with your tongue. 

You pull back, hands tracing his chest. When you lean forward again it’s to press your mouth against his, soft lips parting willingly when you swipe your tongue along their edge to deepen the kiss. It’s calmer than you expected it to be, languid strokes and swallowed whimpers, the faint remnants of your taste on his lips. 

You rake your nails over his chest and he moans into your mouth. 

“Let me hear you,” you sit up, eyes finding his, “don’t hold back.” He nods and you trail your hands down his stomach, exploring the solid muscle underneath your fingers. 

It’s so firm — he’s lean, like Taehyung, but where the older man has a certain softness to his edges, Jungkook’s body is rugged and sinewy. It’s pliable under your hands, sensitive to the most featherlight of touches you bestow on him. 

You wrap your lips around one of his nipples and flick your tongue against it. He whines, louder this time, and you suck softly in response. After lavishing the other nipple with similar attention you move downwards, eyes tracking the expanse of golden skin to where his cock lays against his stomach, still untouched. The reddened head glistens with pre-cum and you wrap your hand tentatively around his length, squeezing softly. He lets out a low hiss and you flick your wrist up, thumb spreading the moisture over his silken skin. 

He bucks his hips up into your hand and you sit down on his thighs, letting his cock drop back against his stomach. 

“A little too eager.” You grin, “I need you to stay still for me. Can you do that?”

“Yes.” It’s coming out strained and the muscles in his arms twitch but he keeps them folded behind his head. 

“What was that?”

“Yes, noona.” He nods, brows knitted together in earnest, and you can’t help but smile at him. 

“Good boy.” 

His cock twitches and you take him in your hand again, the heavy feel only inciting the ache between your thighs. 

Out of the corner of your eye you can see Taehyung, who’s lounging comfortably in the arm chair, long legs spread out as if he’s watching the evening news. He’s staring at you impassively but you know him well enough to see it’s just a front: his gaze even more intense than usual, chest rising and falling a little faster. 

You bend down and trace a thick vein on the underside of Jungkook’s cock with the tip of your tongue. A low growl resonates in his throat and you wrap your lips around his length, tongue swirling around the head, determined to make him fall apart in a mess of moans and whines. 

With one spit-slicken hand wrapped around him and the other gripping his thigh you take him deeper into your mouth, feeling the repressed stutter of his hips as he forces himself to stay as still as possible when his cock hits the back of your throat. 

Pulling back, you watch him through your lashes, a string of saliva dangling between your lips and the head of his shaft. He has his eyes closed, head pushed back into the cushion. 

“Look at me,” you whisper, and he tilts his chin down to meet your gaze. 

You can feel Taehyung’s eyes on the two of you, never leaving, encouraging you to put on a show as much for his pleasure as for Jungkook’s or your own. 

It has your nerves soaring and when you take Jungkook into your mouth again you don’t stop until your nose hits his pubic bone, a string of loud moans and curses ringing in your ears when your throat constricts around him. 

It’s messy and loud, the way you flick and swirl your tongue around his sensitive head while taking him deep into the warmth of your mouth — sloppy, wet noises mixed with his throaty whines. He does exactly as you told him: not holding back, moans slowly rising in pitch and volume, muscled thighs tensing underneath yours. 

You can feel the heat pool between your legs and slide one of your hands down, plunging two fingers inside yourself in a desperate attempt to find some relief. You imagine it’s Taehyung’s cock instead, stretching your walls slowly. It only adds more fuel to the fire — the angle slightly awkward, fingers a tad too short and pleasure just out of reach. 

Jungkook’s frantic inhales and the stutter of his hips tells you he’s close — so you pull back, leaving him whining and writhing underneath you. Strands of hair are plastered against his forehead, heaving chest coated in a dewy sheen. 

“Noona, please—” he gasps and you wrap your slick hands around his length, stroking him slowly, keeping him teetering on the edge.

“Ah, you want more?” You dip your head down and flick your tongue against that particular spot on the underside of cock — the one that makes him squirm in your grasp — before pulling back again, “like this?” 

He lets out a hoarse whimper, fingers tangled in his hair to keep himself from grabbing yours. You wrap your lips around his length again, preparing yourself to—

“Wait,” Taehyung’s voice cuts through the room. He rises to his feet and walks towards the couch, glossing his hand over your hair and down your back, fingers ghosting over your sodden cunt. You lean into his touch, delight washing over you at having him closer again. 

Taehyung’s other hand comes up to wrap around the back of your neck. “I want to see Jungkook fill up this pussy,” he muses, emphasizing his words with a tap of his fingers before letting go of you and stepping back, sitting down on the coffee table. 

He doesn’t have to tell you twice — you’re moving as soon as the words leave Taehyung’s mouth, one hand wrapped around Jungkook’s cock as you slowly lower yourself down on him.

You let out a shaky breath, bracing both hands on his chest to give yourself some time to adjust to the feeling of him buried deep inside you. 

Jungkook groans and closes his eyes, jaw slackening. His arms jerk in an unconscious response to your walls tightening around him but he keeps them behind his head like you told him to. 

“You’re so good for me, ah, Kook—” you grit out when you roll your hips, lifting yourself off of him, only to sink back down again in one fluid motion. 

With every drag of his cock against your walls the heat is building inside of you again and you throw your head back, letting yourself get carried away, two voices mingling in pleasure. 

Taehyung watches how Jungkook’s length gets soaked in your arousal with every roll of your hips. Dark brows drawn tightly together and eyes glossy, bewitched by the intoxicating view in front of him, his carefully crafted expression is faltering. His cock strains painfully hard against his slacks and he clenches his jaw, fingers wrapped stiffly around the edge of the coffee table.

You’re grinding down on Jungkook with all the strength you can muster, trying to find that angle that has you seeing specks of white behind your eyelids. 

“Are you gonna make her come or should I lend a hand?” Taehyung goads, playful amusement lacing his words. 

Something dark sparks in Jungkook’s eyes and he presses his tongue against the inside of his cheek. He’s always been competitive — you know it, Taehyung knows it, everyone knows it. 

And Taehyung has always been the one who knows exactly how to pull his strings. 

“Please…” Jungkook sounds strained, begging through his teeth. You know it’s taking him every inch of his resolve to stay still and keep himself from thrusting up to meet the smooth roll of your hips. 

The notion of what he could do when you give him your word sings through every fibre of your being, thrumming in time with the pounding of your heart against your ribcage.

You slide your hands over his chest, face hovering above his. “Make me come,” you whisper, taking his bottom lip between your teeth and tugging at it roughly. 

Much like yourself, Jungkook doesn’t waste any time — hands gripping your waist tightly as he thrusts up, throwing you off balance and sending you face-forward into the crook of his neck. Your hands scramble for purchase on his shoulders in a feeble attempt to remain upright, but you are no match for his strong arms as he slams you down forcefully to meet every stroke of his nimble hips.

Your body goes limp against his, unable to do anything but allow him to let pleasure rain down on you with every thrust. The change in angle has your clit rubbing against his pubic bone, the friction setting your nerves alight. 

Taehyung’s face floats in front of you, deep brown eyes lost in a haze of ecstasy as you try to focus, your vision blurry. 

“Jungkook’s fucking you good, baby? You like that?” 

You try to answer but the only sounds that leave your lips are a mess of moans and shaky whimpers that sound vaguely like his name. 

“Look at you, you’re taking him so well.” He smooths his hand over your cheek — you’re positive you’re a mess, drooling all over Jungkook’s shoulder, but you have thrown all care out of the window long ago. 

“Fuck—ah, noona, hyung— feels so good,” Jungkook groans next to your ear, tightening his grasp on you. He shifts his hips slightly and you gasp, the head of his cock brushing against that spot you have been chasing for what feels like eternity. 

Feeling your walls flutter around him, Jungkook nearly pulls himself out fully before sinking back inside you with a tantalising drag that has you moaning and trembling in his grip. With every stroke of his hips you feel yourself tightening around him, closing in on your climax until a particularly sharp thrust sends you tippling over the edge. 

You fist your hands in his hair and he slows down his pace, dragging out your orgasm as you coat his cock in your slick, face buried in his neck. 

His breathing comes out in ragged pants and you roll your hips, encouraging him to move faster. He picks up the pace again, rhythm erratic and faltering. It’s almost too much, too deep, and you hoist yourself up, planting your hands on either side of his head. You watch how pleasure overtakes him — hips stuttering, his brow creased and eyes closed when he spills himself inside of you. 

The two of you stay still for a moment, catching your breath, a tangled mess of leaden limbs. 

“Knew you didn’t need me,” Taehyung grins at Jungkook, “see?” He jokingly pats Jungkook on his head, the latter trying to swat his arm away, softening cock threatening to slip out of you. 

“Don’t move,” Taehyung warns and you both still. He sits down behind you, mirroring your pose. Grabbing your hips with one hand he lifts you up gently, Jungkook’s cum trickling down your thighs as he pulls out of you. 

You whimper when Taehyung gathers the mixture of juices with two fingers and pushes it back into your sensitive cunt. 

He reaches behind him with his other arm, grabbing a large cushion and stuffing it between yours and Jungkook’s hips, angling your ass up and preventing Jungkook’s cum from spilling out of you. His fingers are moving slowly, careful not to push too hard. 

“Tae, ah— too much,” you gasp, his motions bordering on the edge of pain. He hums in response and presses his thumb against your clit, knowing his way around your body almost better than you do. He eases you into the discomfort with slow, languid strokes, it soon making way for pleasure again.

“That’s it,” he coaxes when your soft moans are growing in volume, fingertips searing your skin with every touch. He bends down to lick the glossy remnants of Jungkook’s cum and your arousal off your thighs until they are completely clean, thumb still circling your clit at a leisurely pace.

A hand comes up to your face and you open your eyes — you don’t even recall closing them — to see Jungkook drinking the sight of you. He slides his hand to the back of your neck and brings your face down to his, your arms braced on his shoulders. He swallows your moans when Taehyung’s long, slender fingers brush smoothly against your swollen walls.

Taehyung removes his hand and spits on your cunt, watching how it trickles down between your folds before sliding his fingers sloppily through the mess, groaning at the sight. 

“Fuck.” He pushes two fingers inside you again in a scissoring motion and you arch your back at the intrusion, forehead pressed against Jungkook’s. “You think you can take some more?” A hint of desperation laces his voice, fraying at the edges of your resolve. 

“Yes.” You breathe, pushing yourself eagerly back onto his hand. He curls his fingers, chuckling at your impatient response. “Please, Tae.” 

Then his hand is gone, the sound of him unbuckling his belt enough to have you soaking the inside of your thighs again, anticipation tightening in your chest. 

When nothing happens you crane your head around to see what’s taking him so long, his hands on your hips and face lit up in a broad grin. 

“Tae, I swear to God if you’re not gonna—”

The end of your sentence is cut off by your own gasp when you feel the blunt head of his cock push against your entrance. 

“Then what?” He teases, sliding his length through your lower lips and strengthening his grip on your hips to prevent you from moving. He bends forward, breath hot against your ear. “I don't think you're going to do anything. And I’m not nearly as desperate as you.” 

You whine, squirming in his grip.

“Stop moving.” 

You cease your wriggling, his cock straining heavy against the curve of your ass. 

“What do you think, Jungkook?” Taehyung straightens his back, looking over your shoulder at the man below. “Should we give her what she wants?”

Jungkook looks up at you and you send him a pleading look. “Tae—Kook, please.” You’re not beneath begging, with Taehyung so near yet so far away; you want him closer, the need to feel him inside of you making your mind foggy and clouded with lust.

“Please fuck her, Tae.” Jungkook groans, eyes darkening and bottom lip reddened from chewing on it. 

Taehyung chuckles, “Lucky you.” You whine at the faint burn as the head of his cock breaches you, your walls stretching to accommodate his girth. 

“Shit.” He groans as he slowly inches deeper, watching how his length gets coated in Jungkook’s cum and your own arousal, “such a pretty, tight little pussy.”

When he finally bottoms out he stops, chest heaving. He smooths a hand over your lower back. “Are you okay?” His voice is raspy, restraint slowly unravelling as he loses himself in the feeling of your walls tightening around him.

You push yourself back on his cock, wiggling your ass a little, hoping it entices him enough to move. 

“Patience was never your strong suit,” Taehyung laughs. “Looks like you two got that in common.” 

You roll your eyes and Jungkook lets out a huff, but before you can counter Taehyung’s words he snakes a hand up your torso and wraps it around your throat, lifting your body up so your back is pressed against his chest. The soft cotton of his shirt tickles against your skin — something about him being fully dressed while you and Jungkook lie naked underneath him making your chest tighten with desire. 

Taehyung is watching you through thick lashes, with heavy-lidded eyes and slightly parted lips. His tongue darts out and your eyes follow the motion, captivated by the movement. No matter how often you see him this up close, he never fails to enthrall you; tanned skin coated in a glistening sheen and brown eyes darkened to a deep hue, black messy curls framing his face. 

When he kisses you it feels warm, earthy and familiar — but still just as exciting. 

“Tell me what you want.” He pulls back, lips ghosting along the edge of your jaw. 

Of course he already knows exactly what you want. 

“Tae,” you plead, “please move.” 

He nips at your earlobe and bends you over, left hand taking hold of your hip and his right grabbing your shoulder. You rest your forearms on Jungkook’s chest and his arms come up to steady you when Taehyung finally rolls his hips, your breath hitching in your throat. 

His pace is agonizingly slow, letting you feel every inch as he nearly pulls himself out entirely before sinking back again, slick noises mingling with your moans. 

Jungkook slides his left hand under the cushion to adjust his hardening cock, pressed between the fabric and his stomach, groaning at the friction when Taehyung picks up his pace. 

The ache between your legs grows stronger, the room slowly fading into the background until all that remains is the two men surrounding you, your voice nothing but a hoarse whisper. 

“Tae, ah—harder, please.” He gives into your request, groaning as he pushes you down onto his length with fervent devotion. “Ahh.” He hisses, “you feel so good around my cock.” His hair falls into his eyes in messy tangles, gaze fixed on the sight in front of him. “So wet. So tight.” 

Your eyes fall shut, the three of you a tangle of limbs and throaty moans. 

Beneath you, Jungkook stirs. 

“Fuck,” he breathes, watching how pleasure overtakes your expression. “So beautiful.” He brings his tattooed hand up and closes it around the column of your throat, squeezing lightly. 

“Wanna watch your face when you fall apart.” He murmurs, “you think you can do that for us, noona?”

You whimper weakly when he tightens his grip, fingers pressing into the soft skin under your jaw. Your cunt clenches around Taehyung’s cock and his hips stutter, a string of husky moans falling from his lips. 

You feel like you’re floating, Jungkook’s hand around your throat and Taehyung’s grip on your hips the only things preventing you from collapsing onto Jungkook’s chest, arms shaking as you try to keep yourself upright. 

A raspy sob falls from your lips when Taehyung angles your hips up and the head of his cock brushes along the spot that has you trembling in his grasp. He slides one hand between the cushion and your body, fingers finding your clit. 

You don’t even care about how fucked out you must look — pressed between the two of them, flushed and sweaty and still wanting more. 

“Please… Tae…. gonna —” you’re blabbering, unable to wrap your tongue around the consonants caged behind your teeth. 

“Then come.” 

It’s too much and not enough all at once — your orgasm washing over you as the taut string they’ve kept you dangling on snaps with a pinch of Taehyung’s fingers. 

Jungkook curses, hand tight around your throat and hips rutting against the pillow, eyes never leaving your face. 

Taehyung’s grunts are getting increasingly more desperate when you soak his cock, your walls throbbing around him. It doesn’t take long for him to follow you off the precipice, body slumping forwards and pressing you against Jungkook’s. He rests his arms next to the younger man’s shoulders, trying not to crush you under his weight.  

“Fuck,” he groans into your hair and Jungkook chuckles. “Fuck indeed.” 

Taehyung punches his shoulder half-heartedly and rolls on his side, pulling you with him. Pressed flush between them, you feel their steady heartbeat as the hazy bliss slowly lifts. It’s tempting to close your eyes and just stay here, in the moment, the snow still drifting down outside and covering the world in an ivory blanket.

“You might need a new couch.” 

Jungkook looks down and grins sheepishly. “And some new pillows.”

“Namjoon’s gonna kill us.” Taehyung sighs, wincing when he sees the mixture of cum dripping down your thighs. “Let’s get you cleaned up before we make even more of a mess.” 

“You can use my shirt, I have a spare.” Jungkook lifts his head and stretches his arm towards the pile of clothes on the floor, just out of reach. 

Taehyung untangles his limbs and clambers over you and Jungkook, fastening his belt. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll be right back.”

“You brought an extra shirt?” You look up at Jungkook, fingers trailing the ink on his shoulder. 

A light pink dusts his cheeks. “I planned on going to the gym later so I brought my workout clothes.” He hesitates, waving his hand around, “but then, um, this happened.”

“Can I borrow your clothes?” 

“My clothes?” He frowns. “Why? I mean, sure.”

“Thought you might need an excuse to drop by to pick up your clothes sometime.” You wiggle your eyebrows at him and he laughs, “As if I need an excuse.”

“What on earth is this?”

Jungkook’s head snaps up, eyes widening when he sees Taehyung standing in the doorway of the bathroom, holding up your paint-soaked clothes with an amused grin on his face. 

“Oh, no.” You groan, tugging on Jungkook’s arm to wrap his body around you, burying your face into his neck. “I was never here.”

Thank you for reading! 

If you enjoyed this fic please consider reblogging and leaving a comment or an ask. Your feedback means the world to me and keeps me going!

↠ Masterlist

Tagging: @xjoonchildx​

#armiesnet #btsgoldnet #starryktown #jungkook smut #taehyung smut #bts fic #bts #bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook #taehyung #jeon jungkook #kim taehyung #jungkook fic #taehyung fic #jungkook x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook x you #taehyung x you

[dreamystuffers]

drive it forward - lyy

playlist: travel - bol4 | work it - nct u | dumb dumb - red velvet | pretty savage - blackpink | rookie - red velvet | comethru - jeremy zucker & bea miller | can’t take my eyes off you - shawn mendes | follow you - sugar & 希林那依高 (curley g) | mixtape: on track - skz | 喜欢你 - 希林那依高 (curley g)

summary: of course the job would never be easy but what kind of idiot dribbles a basketball in the room above yours and then gets pissed about a complaint?

genre: fluff, comedy, nba bubble au, e2l, reporter!reader x basketball player!yangyang

word count: 8.5k words

warnings: profanity, suggestive lines, covid-19 (no one gets it in this fic but like it’s important), not historically accurate? (i tried to follow the actual bubble timeline but i do not have it in me to ensure it’s correct :3), kissing, very rushed character development

note: i had to reupload this cause tumblr deleted it T^T also i have very minimal basketball knowledge. I am also bad at it. If you need to learn how to shoot a basketball, don’t use this fic I just looked on wikihow. also a big thank you to my irl best friend for helping me work out the plot (she’ll never see this but ily) and also @ceruleanskies​ for helping me with the free-throw scene and @ezralia-writes​ for beta reading! also for context, the nba season for the end of 2020 was moved to disney world where a bunch of nba players were just vibing playing basketball i guess

part of @leesmrk​‘s sports collaboration

From the moment you published your first article, you knew that reporting was your calling. After a year of being the head editor of your high school’s newspaper and getting accepted to all your top college choices, it was inevitable that you would land a position as a reporter at one of the most reputable magazines in your area after you graduated. However, you never would have anticipated the lack of recognition you received.

This is precisely why you’re extremely shocked when the head editor—your boss, Kim Doyoung—calls you at 10:30 pm on a Thursday night, telling you to pack enough clothes to last you several months in Florida.

“What do you mean I’m being sent to the NBA bubble?” You question slowly, trying to process whether or not you misheard him.

“It means we don’t have many young, single reporters that are willing to jet off to another state at a moment’s notice, so we’re sending you.” Doyoung deadpans in return, the clicking of his keyboard keys very much audible from his end of the line. “We’ll cover all the accommodations and other necessities so long as you agree.”

While this is an amazing opportunity for you, you can’t help but internally scream at how harshly said opportunity was delivered. However, as a struggling reporter and an idiot dying for an opportunity, you push away your pride and plaster a smile onto your face.

“Amazing. When’s my flight?”

It takes approximately 24 hours, one poorly socially distanced flight, three absurdly large luggages, and two q-tips shoved uncomfortably high into your nose for you to finally settle into your hotel room in the NBA bubble situated at Disney World, Florida. As taxing as it may have been physically, you were more than glad to discover that your bed was extremely comfortable with an abundance of pillows. After all, the resort you were staying in was also hosting some of the best players in the NBA.

You make a quick job of washing up and unpacking the bare necessities you brought along with you before pulling open your laptop to prepare some research and interview questions for tomorrow. While Doyoung had been unclear as to what specifically you were expected to do within the bubble, you figured it wouldn't hurt to get a head start. It wasn't like you had an awful lot of research to do anyway. While you may not be a die-hard basketball fan, you were definitely somewhere close, actively keeping up with a few players on some teams that managed to catch your eye. Reading off some of your colleagues’ articles, you're quickly able to gather some information on more notable players here in the bubble. 

It's only after an hour of hard work that a thumping noise suddenly resonates through the ceiling of your hotel room.

"What the-"

The thumping noise continues but now at a steadier pace. Sighing deeply, you reach into your bag to pull out a pair of headphones and set your Spotify playlist to shuffle. Somehow, you're still able to hear the dribbling noise through your headphones, although now more subdued, but still irritating.

You do your best to continue from where you left off for a couple of minutes before the dribbling suddenly gets faster, the noise incessantly drilling into your ears.

"Oh my fucking god, what kind of idiot decides it's a good idea to dribble in a hotel room at midnight." You pull your headphones off and place them onto your desk before reaching over to your nightstand for the telephone.

Quickly inputting the number for the front desk, you put the cream coloured phone to your ear and listen to the ringback tone.

"Hello!" The receptionist's voice seems much too chirpy for anyone awake and working at midnight. "What can I do for you today?"

"Yeah hi. I'm staying in suite 437 and there's someone dribbling in the room above mine. Would it be possible for the hotel to send someone to tell them to stop?"

"Yes of course! Our apologies for the inconvenience."

The call ends shortly after and you flop into the bed, the sound of the ball still pounding away from the ceiling. It takes a couple minutes for the thumping to finally stop. You move to turn off the lights and your laptop, feeling the fatigue from the long day you had starts to hit you.

A yawn escapes you as you crawl under the covers of your bed, sighing as your head hits the pillow. The shrill sound of the ringing phone pierces through your sleep clouded mind. Of course, it has to ring just as you're about to fall asleep. The universe truly works in funny ways.

"Hello?" Your words come out more slurred than you intended but you could care less at this hour.

"Yes, hello. My name is Qian Kun, head coach of the Portland Trail Blazers. I believe you're the reporter from NeoMag staying in room 437? I'd like to apologize for the noise you were receiving earlier. We'll be sending Liu Yangyang to apologize to you in the morning."

Liu Yangyang? Your eyes widen as you bolt upright in your bed.

"Oh yes, sure. Thank you. I'll see you on the court tomorrow."

You end the call much too abruptly for it to be deemed polite and maybe you'd care a bit more if you hadn't just reported Liu Yangyang.

Third pick in the 2019 draft and currently one of the top contenders for rookie of the year, one of the starting small forwards (which was a feat in itself considering how rare it was for rookies to get any sort of starting positions), and most importantly, one of your favourite players in the NBA at the moment. Liu Yangyang was one of the players to look out for in any game. However, there was one thing that confused you about him. It's not that you found him cute when you first saw him in the draft pick—although you did—it's that with his record of donating to charities and volunteering at organizations, why on earth would he be dribbling in a hotel room? Wouldn’t he be a bit more considerate than this?

You simply don't have the energy to entertain your thoughts any more tonight as you yawn deeply and drop back into your previous position under the covers.

Perhaps you'd find out tomorrow.

It's around noon when you get a text from the medical team that your violent q-tip endeavours have provided you with negative COVID-19 tests, allowing you to freely roam the expanse of the NBA bubble. After washing up and transferring your night's worth of research onto your phone, you grab a mask alongside your normal things. While it wasn't necessary for anyone to wear a mask in the bubble—especially given that everyone was being tested regularly—you weren’t quite sure what the typical norms were in the bubble. It’s a learning experience.

The ESPN Wide World of Sports Complex was not at all attached to the hotel you're staying in, but the walk from the hotel to the complex isn't very far. It's almost eerie as you walk through Disney world; the once massively massively overcrowded walkways and long lines now replaced with silence and a few stragglers all here for the NBA. You'd visited Disney World last year with your friends for a birthday party and the hour-long waits had been excruciating. Now, only masked strangers greet you as you make your way towards the sports complex.

Walking hastily, you slip through the automatic doors of the main arena in no time, stopping by the temperature checking machine before pushing open the doors to the basketball court. Unsurprisingly, there are already teams running drills and you stand off to the side as you remove the lens cap of your DSLR to take a few photos for your article.

You’re barely paying attention when Yangyang approaches you. Most definitely not out of his own free will if his coach standing within listening distance staring at him says anything about it.

“Hi, I’m Yangyang.” Contrary to interview videos of him, his tone is flat and body language tense.

“I know.”

Your reply comes much too fast and makes a player you recognize to be Hendery snicker to the side.

Yangyang rolls his eyes at your response before shooting you a tense smile.

“Just wanted to say I’m sorry about last night. Won’t happen again.” His eyes aren’t even looking in your direction, instead off to the side at the drills his teammates are running.

Liu Yangyang. You’ve read tons of articles about him and even watched several of his interviews. When you’d seen him play at some of the games earlier this season he was the star of the show.

No amount of research or interviews could’ve prepared you for the half-assed apology you just received.

“Okay cool,” Part of you hopes your tone came off as insincerely as he did. “Just don’t let it happen again.”

Yangyang’s scoff is very much audible as he mutters something that sounds more like an insult than a noise of agreement before he turns on his heel and jogs off to do drills with the rest of his team.

Letting out a deep sigh, you see Hendery throw you a quick shrug and salute before jogging off after his friend.

Even though you knew some people were different on and off camera, it's baffling to see how someone you considered to be a nice person could be such an asshole.

"Sorry about that," Another boy says from behind you.

His breathing is heavy and there's a slight gleam of sweat on his forehead. You shoot him a strained smile before looking down at his jersey.

"I'm Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul but people call me Ten. I play for the Toronto Raptors but I'm sure you've figured that out already." He gestures down to the black jersey you were already staring at and you set your gaze to meet his instead.

"It's fine. There's no point in apologizing for things that weren't your fault anyway. I'm ___." You stick out your hand to shake his and wince slightly at the sweat coating his own.

"I guess, but Yangyang was just extra pissy today since he had to go back into quarantine after he accidentally left the bubble to pick up the chicken nuggets he ubered. Really killed his vibe you know?"

It would be a lie if you said that you didn't feel bad at all, but Yangyang really dug his own grave with that one.

"Just know he isn't always like this. He's actually a pretty nice guy."

At this point, you feel as if you’d need hours of unreleased video evidence to believe Ten's words but for the sake of being civil, you try to take his word for it.

"Well I'd sure hope one of my favourite players isn't actually a total asshole but it be like that."

You swear you can practically hear the gears grinding in Ten's head as he smirks at you. If time travel was a thing and it could make the you from five seconds ago shut up, you probably would.

"That's very interesting. I'll keep that in mind." Slyly, he shoots you a wink before giving you a quick slap on the shoulder. "Nice talk ___. Looking forward to that interview in a couple of days."

"Interview?” You call out from your spot on the sidelines. “What interview?"

The words don't quite reach Ten's ears as he jogs off and away, leaving you extremely confused and even more stressed than when you first stepped onto the court.

The aforementioned interview is only discussed with you hours later via a very brief phone call with a busy Kim Doyoung. He does nothing but inform you that a formal interview has been booked with a few of the more popular rookie players in the bubble scheduled to take place in two days. 

“A bit more direction would’ve been nice.” You sigh as you recall him telling you to write ‘something that would appeal to fans’. Very helpful. 

You spend the next couple of days researching off on the side of the court, juggling between typing up questions, Twitter queries, and taking photos of the different teams on the court.

You typically avoided going on Twitter unless your job required it. Nothing quite beats going on that stupid bird app and seeing hundreds of thousands of random thirst tweets from fans around the world. You've done your best to take Ten's words into consideration: that people have bad days and that your first encounter with Yangyang wasn't a reflection of his true self. That in no way stops you from complaining about the sheer amount of idiotic comments on social media, especially as you add some last minute questions to your document for your interview in a couple of minutes. Internally, you feel like that TikTok of Daniel Dae Kim’s son watching his dad read thirst tweets. You do your best not to gag as you scroll through your Twitter searches, actively speed scrolling past thirst Tweets and jotting down a few more questions you can find centred around Yangyang’s ability. Honestly, there are so many questions for him that you'd probably have enough  for a solo interview with the rookie himself and maybe a more Yangyang focused team interview.

"This fucking sucks." You mumble to yourself as you pick up your camera to set onto the tripod, only to be greeted by an unwanted close up of Ten’s face.

"What fucking sucks?" Chirps Ten making you scream slightly.

You apologize impishly to the other people glaring at you from outside the interview room which makes another player by Ten's side laugh.

"I was going to say Twitter but now I'll say you." The pout on your face does nothing but make Ten laugh as he nudges the boy next to him.

"Ah right, I'm Wong Yukhei but I guess you can call me Lucas." He giggles and shoots you a thumbs-up.

"Fourteenth pick in the 2019 draft and traded to the LA Clippers near the end of the season right? Plus you shot a really funky shot during last year's dunk contest that went viral." You ramble before shooting him a thumbs-up back. "I'm ____."

Ten shoots you a weird look while Yukhei only seems amused, giggling loudly at your description.

“Yup, that’s me!”

"Anyways,” Ten butts in, giving you a cheshire-esque smile. “Are you perhaps miserable because Twitter's full of thirst tweets for a certain Liu Yangyang?"

You purse your lips and exhale sharply as you glare at Ten. Even though you're aware that he’s correct, it takes a lot of self-restraint for you to avoid smacking him.

"It's a bit difficult to do research on what people want to hear when all I can see is people asking Yangyang to step on them." You deadpan making the two boys erupt into another round of laughter as a few of the rookies file in.

Watching the players scramble before finally taking a seat is a strange sight. Although, any sight involving several tall men arguing over who should sit in which seat is a strange sight. Aside from Ten and Yukhei, you’re also interviewing Yangyang, Xiaojun, and Hendery. You go through the awkward introductions and move towards your camera.

"Okay let's get started." You say once all the boys have settled in, setting your camera to record. "You're all rookies with around three years of experience. What're some of the most memorable things you've learned so far?"

"Well-" "I've learned that dribbling a basketball in a hotel room in the bubble will get a snitch on your ass and a massive scolding from coach." Deadpans Yangyang, effectively cutting off Yukhei's sentence and earning him a smack from another player you recognize to be Xiaojun. One thing you were always told in school was to do a better job of controlling your emotions when interviewing assholes.

It was just unfortunate that Yangyang turned out to be one of those assholes.

"Great." You reply after a beat, doing your best to maintain a pleasant expression. Ten shoots you an apologetic look while you direct your attention to Yukhei who seems a bit too cheesed to continue his answer.

It's unfortunate to say that the vast majority of your interview continues in that manner, but it does. While you did get enough decent answers from the other players (and maybe one from Yangyang) to write a decent article, he'd truly taken every possible opportunity to make some sort of backhanded comments towards you. While you did try your best to stay calm and polite, it was extremely difficult given the shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

Ten simply gives you a comforting pat on the back as he practically drags Yangyang out of the interview room, the rest of the boys looking equally as sorry as Ten.

You will yourself to remember their sorry expressions that night as you do your best to draft a neutral paper that portrays the boys in a good light.

Maybe someone would even edit the interview to make it sound better or upload video clips that highlighted their personalities.

Only time would tell.

You're not quite too sure if you want to hug or fight the editor back at the office that woke up and chose violence today. While it wasn't uncommon for your magazine to receive a lot of attention, the amount of crazy Twitter stans blowing up your notifications was.

Occasionally, NeoMag would upload certain clips from the interviews (although typically, the videos were just used for quotes), but you were definitely surprised this morning when you woke up to all the clips of you and Yangyang not-very-subtly snarking at each other from last week being shared all over your Twitter feed.

"Oh my god," You groan as you look through your notifications.

An incoming call from Doyoung interrupts your pity party and you take a moment to recompose yourself before picking up the phone.

"Hi Doyoung!" You will every fibre of your being to sound more enthusiastic than you feel.

"Your interview was a mess, " He deadpans into the phone making you sob internally. "But, people seem to enjoy drama, so we've scheduled another interview for you: one on one with Yangyang."

Whatever false enthusiasm you'd previously mustered dies instantly and you're considering all potential ways to tell your boss you'd rather get fouled by Shaquille O'Neal hundreds of times over than let him exploit whatever stupid rivalry it is that you have with Yangyang.

"Great," You say instead, plastering a smile onto your face. "Looking forward to it."

Yangyang's not quite sure who decided to book a second interview but as he watches Kun stride alarmingly fast towards him, it's glaringly obvious that he's about to get his ass beat.

"Liu Yangyang are you stupid or insane?" Seethes Kun as he smacks the rookie's head.

While Yangyang had seen people get on Kun's bad side, he'd never been on the receiving end of it before. Until now, that is.

He wouldn't recommend the experience.

"Ouch," Yangyang whines as he rubs his head. "Isn't it like illegal for my coach to hit me?"

Kun simply ignores his complaints, opting to continue nagging Yangyang instead.

"You'd better be on your best behaviour during your next interview with ___. I don't know what's gotten into you but if you don't clear up this attitude you've had lately, I'll bench you until the playoffs. Are we clear?"

Honestly, Yangyang doesn't quite know what's gotten into him either but he knows the bench is not where he wants to be. As deep into this as he might be, there's no way he's letting decades worth of work go to waste over some petty feud. Definitely not the way he wanted to go.

Straightening his posture, Yangyang flashes Kun an innocent smile before replying.

"Crystal."

He watches his coach huff and stomp away making him wonder to himself if he's perhaps taken this too far.

Honestly speaking, you've never been the most civil person ever. That's why when you end up back in the interviewing room the following week, it's safe to say that today, you were the one that woke up and chose violence.

Sometimes, you just have to fight fire with fire.

"All good Yangyang?" You ask exasperatedly, waiting for his signal to turn on the recording.

He nods solemnly and you shoot him a tight-lipped smile before clicking the recording button. It's quite obvious that he doesn't want to be here, his tense posture and smile glaring indicators.

"So to start, I have a few questions from some fans on Twitter."

Yangyang makes a noise of acknowledgement and even has the decency to shoot the camera a nice smile.

"Cool. What do you typically carry around in your sports bag that would surprise people?"

He pauses for a moment, having the nerve to even look slightly embarrassed.

"Um, I have this stuffed sheep keychain on my bag's zipper that Ten gave to me in college as a good luck charm."

The only thing that could've possibly surprised you more than Yangyang answering the question civilly would be the answer to his question. Maybe you're another victim of those terrible prank shows. At this rate, you're expecting Hendery to pop out of a box and throw Gatorade all over you.

"You and Ten went to college together?" You ask, surprise evident in your tone as you scan the room for any objects large enough to fit a grown 5'11 man holding a tank of Gatorade in it.

"Yeah," Yangyang flashes you a smile and giggles slightly; something that would've knocked the wind out of you and made your cheeks heat wildly before you entered the bubble. "He's one of my closest friends."

Instead, your face only heats up slightly and you look back down at your questions to avoid his stare.

"Very cool. It's interesting to see how different the two of you are personality-wise and how you two can still be great friends." 

Yangyang's smile quickly turns into a frown.

"What's that supposed to mean-"

"So the next question is how do you like to relieve stress?" You look up from your prepared questions to meet Yangyang's angry gaze. "I'd assume it has something to do with basketball since you seem to dribble wherever whenever?"

It's almost comical how Yangyang's eye twitches as he shoots you a strained smile before answering.

"Yeah, I really love dribbling. It helps me relieve stress and improve my game. Maybe you should try it sometime."

The rest of the interview proceeds in a similar manner with you asking questions, taking a dig at Yangyang, and him doing his best to stay civil which doesn't work out that well.

It's not until around a week later when your article's been published in the latest issue of the magazine that Yangyang remembers the visual aspect of magazines and the fact that you were in charge of your own article.

"I can't believe ___ managed to write an article that makes you look like a decent human being and published it with those ugly ass pictures." Ten cackles as he watches Yangyang stare at his photos with mild horror.

While you'd done your best to portray the boys in their best light during the group rookie interview, you'd decided to be slightly less professional with this one, publishing an article that included some of your banter and some of the worst pictures of himself that he'd seen in his life.

It hadn't been difficult for you to find terrible photos of Yangyang. One of the occupational hazards of being an athlete meant that it was extremely difficult to take flattering action shots but it was extremely easy to find unflattering photos of the players. You'd purposely filtered through the basketball shots you'd gotten so far and picked out all the worst pictures of Yangyang for use in this article.

"I just can't believe ____ managed to get them to publish the article with the photos like that, " Giggles Ten as he slaps Yangyang on the back. "They're good quality too, you just look like shit."

The younger can only sigh deeply as he looks at the article with a sense of despair. Maybe now that you'd evened the playing field, things would get better from here on out.

To some extent, it was arguable that life was better in the bubble because you'd regained some sense of normalcy.

Since everyone in the bubble was getting tested regularly—your sore nostrils being a big indicator—everyone is guaranteed to be corona free. This also means that everyone's free to go wild without much social distancing and masks.

"Are you sure it's a good idea to be inviting me to a party?" You twiddle your fingers and watch as Ten rummages through your suitcase for appropriate attire.

"Of course!" He pauses his ransacking for a moment to redivert his attention back to you. "The only benefit of being stuck in this bubble is that we can go crazy stupid but safe crazy stupid."

With that said, he manages to fish out an outfit that he deems party appropriate and launches it at you from across the room. You catch it unceremoniously and Ten makes his way to the door.

"See you at Gran Destino in an hour."

He sends you a wink before stepping out quickly.

The NBA bubble has three different hotels for everyone to stay in; the most luxurious one being Gran Destino Tower. Teams within the top four seeds in each conference are staying in that hotel, hence, why Ten—who's on the Toronto Raptors—is able to host a party of this extent.

It's admittedly terrifying to step into a location where anything you touch is worth around a week of your pay but you don't get much time to stare at the decor before you reach the lounge area.

"Oh hey, you made it!" Says one of the boys.

You recognize him to be Winwin, one of the more experienced Raptors players. Looking down, you notice his ankle is wrapped and you grimace slightly remembering the injury he had sustained from a practice slightly earlier before the season.

There were a lot of players who had decided to come and join the bubble despite their injuries. You supposed it had to do with team spirit but some other players have mentioned that they enjoy the environment here.

You see Ten trailing behind him and you smile at the both of them.

"Yeah, thanks for inviting me." You settle a few feet away from the boys, unsure how socially distanced they'd prefer to be, only to have Ten walk right next to you to wrap an arm around your shoulder.

"Winwin here was wondering whether or not you'd show up after your very interesting article on Yangyang."

You have the decency to be at least slightly embarrassed at his words which only makes them laugh.

"Don't worry," Ten pats you on the back. "After the way he was acting towards you, he kinda deserved it."

"Speak of the devil." Winwin laughs as he waves at Yangyang who just walked in.

The younger boy smiles brightly at his friends and waves as he approaches them.

"Hey guys!"

It's undeniable that his nicely fitted black button-up shirt and jeans are doing something to your head. Especially with the leather jacket he has on. Terrible. You will yourself to stop staring at him and turn to face Ten instead.

"Since you two just got here, and so did the wings I ordered, would you two mind grabbing the Uber Eats from outside." Ten smiles devilishly at Yangyang. "Unless you think you're going to send yourself back into quarantine."

Yangyang glares at Ten making you suppress a laugh.

"I'm down, " You say, pushing your phone into your jacket pocket, pulling out a mask in its place.

Yangyang rolls his eyes, shoving his hand into his jacket pocket to grab a mask as well.

"I'm down too."

"I'll go with them," Winwin says grabbing his jacket. "There's probably a lot of food anyway."

You know for a fact that no matter how much food there is, it could easily be held between you and Yangyang. Winwin's just trying to avoid having the bubble become a crime scene for a potential murder.

The three of you head out the door moments later, Yangyang confidently striding towards the entrance where said Uber delivery person should be.

"So is there like a line marking the boundary or something?" You couldn't quite remember seeing anything like that on your way into the bubble.

"Nope," Says Yangyang. "There's just a sensor or something. They kinda trust we won't do anything stupid anymore but Ten loves his Wild Wings."

You hear Winwin sigh deeply at this and chuckle.

Admittedly, you're not quite too sure what happened after that. All you remember is you and Yangyang walking to grab the boxes of chicken and passing them to Winwin before you and Yangyang are escorted to an isolation unit.

"You're telling me you accidentally left the bubble twice." You can hear Kun practically screeching from Yangyang's cell phone across the room. "I have half the mind to bench you for the next playoff game if the league doesn't make the call first."

"Oh no," Yangyang makes some questionable noises with his mouth. "The reception's bad gotta go!"

You can barely contain your laughter as you watch Yangyang hastily hang up the call and slide his phone back into his pocket.

His shoulders slump as he breathes a loud sigh and turns dejectedly towards you.

"I'm really sorry-"

"It's fine. Neither of us knew-"

"No, I mean I'm sorry for everything." He scoots his folding chair a bit closer to you. "I've been stressed lately and really had no right to take it out on you. I should've apologized properly the first time but I didn't. Now I've got you stuck in quarantine too."

"It's okay. Really." You smile at Yangyang and flash him an awkward thumbs up. "It happens to the best of us. We're just lucky Winwin didn't cross the boundary so he wasn't quarantined. Ten would've been pissed."

Yangyang smiles at this and sticks out his hand.

"Let's start over properly. I'm Liu Yangyang, one of the starting small forwards for the Portland Trail Blazers. You seem cool and witty and despite the fact that you published those god awful pictures of me in your latest article, I think we'd be good friends."

You snort at his introduction but reach out to shake his hand.

"_____. Rookie reporter for NeoMag and a huge fan of basketball and one Liu Yangyang."

"Oh shit really?" Yangyang's eyes practically sparkle at this and you feel your heart flip slightly.

"Yeah," You admit sheepishly. "You're one of the best players I've seen in a while."

And also one of the cutest, but you'd never admit that.

"I must've really given you a bad first impression then." Yangyang scratches his head awkwardly making you laugh.

"Yeah, maybe a little bit."

It's funny how well the two of you get along, the extra aggressive q-tip testing almost a bonding experience for the both of you. A new chapter in your bubble adventure.

You and Yangyang are forced to quarantine for the next 10 days, most of which you spend yelling at each other from your respective balconies and video calling. This does, unfortunately, mean that Yangyang has to miss the rest of his pre-playoff games and three playoff games but he's kind enough to avoid dribbling in his hotel room again. Aside from your interview with Yangyang and the other rookies, you did manage to get in enough tidbits from other players during your time near the court to write another article or two.

"You know they're letting us invite guests for playoffs?" Yangyang says one night over Zoom as you continue to work on an article.

"Yeah, I read something about that." You drag the small window of Yangyang to the corner closest to where your eyes are focused for work. "Are you planning on inviting someone? Significant other maybe?"

Your teasing tone only elicits a groan from Yangyang who seems a bit dejected.

"Firstly I am a sad single Pringle—an unfortunate downside to my occupation where I have to constantly travel and practice—and secondly, my family is in Germany and most of my friends in America are part of the NBA."

"Germany?" You echo, trying to recall any information that you read about his past.

"Yeah. I was born in Taiwan and then my family moved to Germany when my dad got a job offer so my passport-" Yangyang rummages through his desk before pulling out a small burgundy red passport from his desk. "Is German. Pretty cool right?"

"Yeah," You can't help but notice how cute he looks, even with his messy hair and face slightly pixelated from the webcam, he smiles cutely at you. "Pretty cool."

"So tell me more about yourself." Puts away his passport and props his head onto his hand. "You're always asking me all the questions in interviews and I know practically nothing about you."

"Well, there's not much to know." You maximize Yangyang's Zoom window, watching as his face fills the screen of your laptop.

"Of course there are things to know! We can switch roles for today." Yangyang types something into his laptop quickly before sharing his screen.

"Twenty questions to get to know someone better? Really?"

Yangyang can't help but laugh at how appalled you look. You suppose after working with professionals in the industry for a while, it's easy to get taken aback by things like this.

"Come on, it'll be fun!"

You watch the screen scroll down to the first question.

"What's your favourite animal?"

"Isn't this question kind of lame?" You question making Yangyang pout.

"Just let me get to know you better." He whines making you laugh.

"Okay, alpacas."

"Why?" Yangyang tilts his head slightly.

"Because they're cute and fluffy." You pull up a picture of an alpaca you have saved on your phone. "See, look."

Yangyang squints at his screen, the webcam adjusting a few seconds later to focus better on your phone screen. "Wait, then why not sheep. They're also soft and fluffy."

You narrow your eyes at him. "Doesn't your name mean 'sheep sheep' in Chinese?" 

"Okay, next question," Yangyang says quickly, hoping you don't notice the way his cheeks turn slightly red. "What's your favourite way to spend a day off?"

"That question doesn't apply since I'm always on the job, " You reply almost instantly, sighing put your face in your hands. "It's been a while since I got a day off and even when I have one, I'm still looking for work to do. The pandemic left me with too little work and now that I'm here I still feel like I'm not getting enough work. My boss is kind of a hard ass and I guess I haven't proven myself to him yet."

Yangyang frowns at your words as you continue. 

"Even getting sent here felt like I was some sort of second option. Another rookie to drive it forward with no loss. My boss literally said I was being sent since I'm 'young and single so I can afford to drop everything and go to the bubble'."

"You know, as a rookie myself, I totally get that." Yangyang inhales sharply before continuing. "Did I ever tell you why I was extra pissy after you reported me?"

You shake your head and Yangyang shoots you a sad smile.

"I was third pick, but I'm sure you already knew that." You smile impishly at him. "Being third pick, I thought that'd mean I'd get more time on the court and more opportunities to improve my playing but I feel like I'm just being complacent. It's like the team's happy with how I'm playing now so they don't push me to do any better, but I want to get better. I joined the NBA because it's where all the best players are and I want to learn from them but instead, I have some pressure to do well with practically no guidance. Even though I'm doing well right now, I feel like everyone's waiting for me to slip up. I didn't even realize you were there that night since I'd been dribbling in my room for a while. If I'd known, I wouldn't have done it but after having Kun chew my ear off about it in the morning-"

"Yangyang, it's okay." You hold up a hand as you cut off his sentence. "It really just is what it is and at the end of the day, we're all doing our best to get through life. Besides, I'd like to think we're friends now. Friends that get q-tips violently shoved up their nose because of chicken, stay together right?"

"Right."

Your words resonate in his head through the rest of the week and Yangyang can't help but wonder if he wants to stay just friends with you. Something about the idea of remaining complacent with your current relationship didn't sit right with him.

You and Yangyang are cleared to return to the court as quickly as the league policy would allow, meaning Yangyang was getting ready to go for his first playoff game this afternoon.

"A little birdy told me that you and Yangyang were talking during your quarantine period." Sings Ten as he slings an arm around your shoulders making you jump.

You could never quite understand how you never noticed Ten approaching you on the court. He was dressed in casual attire, his team having played their third playoff game yesterday afternoon, which you watched on a livestream while Yangyang called all the holes in their plays through Zoom.

"Jeez, do you ever make noise when you walk?" You whine as you move to hug the boy. "And yes, we've been talking."

Ten smiles softly at you.

"See, told you he's a good guy."

You roll your eyes and let out a short laugh.

"Yeah, he's not bad." You turn to look at Yangyang who's running some drills with Xiaojun. He notices you looking their way and shoots you a wave before grabbing the other boy and heading towards you and Ten. "But how'd you figure out we're talking?"

"Well Xiaojun sent me videos of Yangyang rapping Eminem off the balcony to you and Yangyang would not shut up about how cu-"

Ten never gets to finish his sentence as Yangyang claps his hand over the older boy's mouth before smiling innocently at you.

"Hey ___! Nice to see you in front of me and not from my laptop or my balcony."

He removes his hand from Ten's mouth, instead moving to envelop you in a hug. It's an unfamiliar feeling having Yangyang's arms around you, although not unwelcome. The smell of cologne and bubblegum fills your senses and you feel yourself fall into his embrace.

Xiaojun awkwardly clears his throat as Ten simply smirks at the two of you together. Flustered, you pull away from Yangyang and fiddle with the camera around your neck.

"Nice to see you too." Your voice comes out smaller than you expect and you feel your cheeks get hot.

"You two will be cheering for us while we play right?" Yangyang smiles at both you and Ten.

"Yup," Ten replies, making a basketball shooting gesture with his hands. "You'd better shoot a triple-double today!"

"Against the Lakers? Unlikely" Scoffs Xiaojun as he turns to look at the other team.

The Lakers were predicted to win the playoffs this year so you could see why Xiaojun was so dejected. Even when you'd spoken with some of the other players, it seemed unlikely that the Trail Blazers would progress all the way to the finals. Plus, Yangyang's team had also lost two of the three games he'd missed so far. Statistically, it wasn't very likely that the Trail Blazers would make it much further in the playoffs.

"Xiaojun, Yangyang!" Kun's call motions for the two to head over, the giant scoreboard above the court signalling around fifteen minutes till the game starts.

"Good luck!" You manage to call out.

You and Ten find a spot in the section reserved for staff and guests to watch the game. 

Despite the fact that you've seen Yangyang play in person a couple of times in the bubble and before the pandemic, he never fails to impress you. He handles the ball as if he's had years of playing professionally and is able to read the opposing player's movements well. You snap several pictures for your article that afternoon, much to your satisfaction, only noticing later while reviewing the pictures that out of the nearly 500 photos you'd taken during the game, around a hundred of them had been of Yangyang. You don't mention it to Yangyang who comes to your room later the next day to complain about his team's second loss.

"I could've totally scored more points if they hadn't set me up for so many fouls." Pouts Yangyang as he eats some of the room service fries the two of you ordered earlier.

"Learn how to shoot better threes and then we can talk." You tease, making Yangyang gape at you.

"Do you even know how to shoot a basketball? Oh my god, let's go." Yangyang pulls you up from your chair and throws a sweater at you.

"Where are we going?" You ask, saving your files before closing your laptop.

Yangyang grabs his jacket before shooting you a smile.

"I'm gonna show you how hard it is to shoot a three-pointer."

Admittedly, you've never been the most athletic person ever but you hadn’t anticipated just how bad you were at basketball.

“No offence but I don’t think you had any right insulting my three-point shooting ability,” Yangyang watches as another airball rolls past his feet. “You’re literally at the free-throw line.”

Yangyang had insisted you start from the easiest place to shoot first, which you’d argued was right next to the basket but he’d argued you may as well learn how to do layups if you wanted to shoot from there. Instead, you find yourself in the semi-circle that is the free-throw line, consistently missing shot after shot making Yangyang laugh maniacally from the side. 

“I like to consider myself to be more of an intellectual than an athlete.” You respond cheekily, moving to grab the basketball. 

Yangyang scoffs at you before moving to grab the basketball, dribbling to the free-throw line.

“Come here,” He nestles the basketball under his arm and uses his free hand to wave you over. “I’ll teach you how to shoot.”

You roll your eyes and take a swig of water before jogging to meet him at the free-throw line.

“What do I do coach?” Your tone is mocking but Yangyang can’t help but find you cute.

“Okay so line up like you’re about to take a shot.”

You do as you’re told, holding the ball in your hands above your head with your arms bent slightly.

You glance over at Yangyang who simply shoots you a weird look.

“That’s not okay.” He moves beside you and positions himself as if he were shooting the ball. “Copy me,”

You bend your knees and adjust your arms slightly, trying to adjust to Yangyang’s stance. He simply tsks in response, dropping his stance and moving behind you.

“Okay so first move your legs a bit further apart,” He moves his feet behind yours, trying to position you and you follow suit. 

“And then your arms,” He reaches up to lower your arms so that the ball is in your face, allowing you to see just above the ball.

He steps back to check your posture from afar and nods to himself. “Okay so just use one hand to shoot and one hand to position the ball, and then jump when you shoot.”

Taking a deep breath, you do as he says, jumping to shoot the ball and you watch as the ball flies from your hands to bounce against the backboard and lands in the net.

“Oh my god, Yangyang did you see that!” You cry before launching yourself into his arms.

Yangyang can only laugh as he wraps his arms around you and pulls away slightly to press a kiss to your lips. You feel yourself freeze and you can feel the moment Yangyang realizes his mistake, pulling away hastily.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry-”

“Wait no,” You walk towards him and cup his face, eyes softening as you look at him. “You did it wrong.”

You take your time connecting your lips with his own. Yangyang kisses you softly, quickly wrapping an arm around your waist and moving to cup your face with his free hand. He tastes like the fries the two of you had been eating earlier and you feel your eyes flutter shut as you smile into the kiss.

“Well, you may not be a great three-point shooter,” You say once you two have pulled away from the kiss. “But you are a great teacher and kisser.”

Yangyang scoffs as he smacks your shoulder and pulls you in for another kiss.

“So let me get this straight,” Xiaojun says as the two of them are running drills the next day. “You literally made out with ___ on the court and you didn’t think to make things official?”

Yangyang looks around the court guiltily and Xiaojun has half the mind to smack the boy into the next dimension.

“Maybe.”

Nothing really happened after the two of you had kissed yesterday. You’d both shared a few more flirtatious looks and maybe kissed a bit more before heading off to your respective rooms and Yangyang realized once he woke up that he never asked you out or asked if he could be your boyfriend.

“Just ask then.” Deadpans Xiaojun, passing the basketball to Yangyang with a bit too much force. “Be like ‘hey I’m an idiot but I could be your idiot.’”

Yangyang almost fails to catch the ball as he cringes with his whole body at Xiaojun’s terrible advice. “You’re gross dude. No wonder the two of us have been single for so long.”

“Hey!” Whines Xiaojun as Yangyang passes the ball back to him. “You literally have a chance now. I might be sad and lonely but you’re just pathetic.”

Yangyang can only glare at the other boy, knowing full well that he’s right. As the two of them continue their drills, Yangyang could only hope that he’d muster enough courage to tell you before you both had to leave the bubble.

You’re going through a similar situation and it pains you to say that you’ve gotten way too used to having Yangyang around in your everyday bubble life. 

Given the fact that playoff games were best four out of seven and the Trail Blazers had already lost three of four games, it was a given that Yangyang would be busy practicing. You just hadn’t realized just how much you’d miss him. 

It’s precisely for this reason that you end up seated on the side of the court with Ten and Winwin. 

You were proud to say the Raptors had swept the Nets with a four-game win, which also meant that Ten and Winwin were able to watch Yangyang’s basketball game with you. 

“You’re both idiots you know,” Winwin says as the announcer lists off player introductions at an ear-shattering volume.

You’re sandwiched between him and Ten as they sit on the seats beside you, eyes fixated on the court.

“He literally hasn’t spoken to me since that night. What am I supposed to think?” You sigh as Winwin and Ten turn to look at each other.

“You’re supposed to think he’s a coward that’s wildly in love with you and also a very busy basketball player.” Ten says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Even Yukhei knows he likes you and it took him three years to realize his girlfriend liked him back before they got together.” Winwin looks pained as he recalls the days of Yukhei and Yuqi’s terrible college flirting days. “Please don’t make us lock you in a closet like we did with them. She nagged my ear off for months.”

You laugh nervously at the idea of being locked in a closet with Yangyang. “Yeah, I don’t think it’ll come to that.”

“I sure hope not,” Mumbles Winwin as the referee approaches the center of the court for the tip-off.

It truly seemed as if the Trail Blazers had a chance, the game fairly close until the gap widened in the third quarter. It was painful to see the Trail Blazers lose to the Lakers in a 122 to 131 game but you could see that both teams played hard, Yangyang even scoring several points on his own. You watch as the few bubble interviewers scramble to get a word from the players. 

Xiaojun sees you, Ten and Winwin heading their way and nudges Yangyang.

“I’m not saying it’s now or never but it’s definitely now or when the playoffs are over or something.”

“Yangyang!” You call as the three of you begin to approach him and Xiaojun. “You played well today!”

His lips thin into a line, Yangyang thinks about Xiaojun’s words before throwing all caution to the wind.

"You know what, fuck it. I've lost too many things today." Yangyang runs towards you, wrapping an arm around your waist as he pulls you to his chest and cups your face before placing his lips on yours.

You feel your face heat up immediately but move to kiss him back making the other boys around you coo. Even though you’ve kissed Yangyang a couple of times now, you’re not sure that you’ll ever get tired of it. If one thing’s for sure, you hope you’ll get more opportunities to be with him in the future.

Yangyang grabs your hands as the two of you pull apart and looks into your eyes before speaking.

"Could you maybe give me one win today and let me be your boyfriend?" He shoots you one of his signature boyish smiles and you can't help but smile back as you give his hands a squeeze.

"I guess that'd be a win for me too.

“So yeah, my favourite bubble memory was meeting ____ and now we’re dating. Thanks for listening or reading this interview.” Yangyang smiles cheekily at the camera as you smack his arm.

It was safe to say that you didn’t think you’d be interviewing your boyfriend for a while—especially given the ending of the season and the promotion you received—but you were pleasantly surprised to see that the surprise guest that Doyoung insisted you had to interview was none other than your boyfriend, Liu Yangyang.

“Oh my god, you’re such an idiot.” You say, eyes sparkling as you move to give Yangyang a quick peck.

“Well, now I’m your idiot basketball boyfriend.” Jokes Yangyang as he interlocks his hands with your own, eyes softening as he looks at you.

“Yeah, I guess you are.” You ruffle his hair. “Mostly an idiot though.”

“Hey!”

thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed it :3 feel free to leave me a message to let me know what you think!

#nctcreations #ultkpop #nct-writers #kpopscape #czennienet #kconnet #neowritingsnet #starryktown #nct #yangyang #nct fanfic #nct fluff #wayv fluff #wayv fanfic #yangyang fanfic #yangyang fluff #yangyang x reader #nct x reader #wayv x reader #wayv #yangyang scenarios #yangyang oneshot #wayv oneshot #nct oneshot #*mine:oneshot

[labelneo]

Spending your break in a cabin with Jaemin and his friends was way more chaotic than you thought it would be.

OR | “I don’t want you to make snow angels with anyone else.”

PAIRING | bestfriend!jaemin x college student!reader

GENRE | fluff, romance, suggestive/ friends to lovers + pining + bed sharing + holiday au

LENGTH | 10.05k words 

WARNINGS | mentions of frat parties and being tipsy, Jaemin and reader being interrupted multiple times, oblivious young adults, cuddling, snow angels, and a love confession

AUTHOR’S NOTE | i haven’t written in a while, but finally was able to sit down and write this :) it ended up being way longer than i thought, but oh well. anyways, hope you guys enjoy!

𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞. 

Letting out a grunt as you attempt to push down on your suitcase to close it, you contemplate if the number of clothes you were taking was reasonable; you had about the same amount of clothes that it would take to have three new outfits in one day. However, it didn’t matter much as you finally manage to zip the suitcase, and it especially didn’t matter any longer when your ride was knocking out your door. 

Yelling out a quick “coming!” to the person waiting on the other side, you attempt to maneuver around the bags, your suitcase, and outfits that covered your dorm floor, outfits that hadn’t made the cut. Making it to the door had been a miracle in your mind, even though you were pretty sure you had broken at least two clothing hangers by stepping on them.

Once you reach the living room, the knocking on the door becomes louder and louder as you approach, making you shake your head at the person you knew was behind the door. And before you could even get on to him for making loud noises once you opened the door, he beat you with a greeting instead.

“Hey, you.” 

“You know,” you say, pulling your friend in by the arm, “you’re going to have to make it up to me for banging so loud on the door, you gave me a headache.” 

Jaemin gives you a knowing smile before reaching out to cup your cheeks and speaking to you in a childish tone. “I’m sorry, what can I do for you?”

Swatting his hands away from your face, you think about his question for a second before you move back to your room to grab and dump all your bags in front of him.

“Carry these to the car.” You lean against the door frame, pointing at them so he would know exactly what he would be carrying.

“You wish,” he says, walking up to your suitcase. “I’m taking this and putting it in the trunk, you can take the bags.” But, you and Jaemin knew that wasn’t going to happen. You would rather have it go your way instead of the way he wanted it.

“But,” you begin to speak, making him look away from you as you put on dewy eyes, “they’re too heaving.” 

Jaemin knew that you knew exactly what you were doing and after scoffing at your facial expressions, he pops up your suitcase's handle and grabs one of your two bags that were on the floor, hanging it from his shoulder. Feeling victorious, you grab the remaining bag and make your way towards the door.

“Hey, loser. Don’t forget your keys this time.” 

Jaemin knew that if no one reminds you to grab your keys, you might as well be wishing to spend a night sleeping on your welcoming mat when you got back (although he would never let that happen). So, with his reminder in mind, you grab the keys off the kitchen counter and wait for him to walk out of your dorm before making your way to the elevator. The both of you walk side to side as you make your way and you ask a question after pressing the down button. 

“How long is the car ride?”

“I don’t know,” Jaemin says. “Chenle wouldn’t tell anyone, he said it was more fun that way. He couldn’t convince Renjun to come though. He said he had better things to do. But, he convinced Jisung to come with us, well more like forced.” 

The elevator comes to your floor and opens in front of both of you. You chuckle as you walk in. You didn’t expect any less from Chenle, a boy who loved the element of surprise.  

“Renjun’s a smart man.” 

Jaemin takes a step forward to press the lobby button on the control panel and on his wrist you see the purple beaded bracelet you had made for him during the summer, making you smile as you admire his side profile. Not noticing your gaze, he moves to be next to you as the both of you listen to the cheesy Christmas jingle playing over your heads. 

“Nice bracelet,” you tease, bumping his side.

Jaemin looks at you with testing eyes, knowing exactly what to say next.

“Nice socks.” 

You couldn’t exactly remember what socks you had put on this morning, making you look down at your feet you see your red, white, candy cane inspired socks peeking out of your sweatpants.

“Thanks, picked them out myself.”  

Walking out of the elevator and then towards the outside, the self-opening doors blew a gush of cold air at the both. You shiver at the breeze. Jaemin, noticing, entwines his free hand into yours and shoves it into his jacket. Secretly, the gesture warms your face, yet you find yourself not saying anything. You especially couldn’t find what to say after hearing the voice of someone yell out to the both of you.  

“And the boyfriend of the year award goes to Na Jaemin!”

You look over to see none other than Zhong Chenle who is leaning against Jeno’s car, looking over at you and Jaemin, and raising his eyebrows when he sees Jaemin’s occupied pocket. 

“Finally! It’s been like 2 years, Jaemin! And you finally made a mo-”

Before Chenle could even finish his sentence, you see Jeno come up behind him and cover his mouth. He moves him out the way and pushes him into the car, before looking at you and Jaemin and giving you two a small wave.

 “Hi, Y/N.” 

You offer him a small, shy smile after witnessing the scene in front of you. 

“Hi, Jeno.” 

Jeno does the same thing Chenle had done and looks at you and Jaemin’s hands, except he decides to stay quiet, with Jaemin being eternally grateful.

𝐉𝐚𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜.

“Chenle just sent me the address,” Jaemin says, clicking on his phone to text the rest of the group. “Guess how far away it is.”

Rubbing your hands together in an attempt to warm yourself as Jaemin reaches out to turn on the heater, you look over at Jaemin to return the question. 

“How long?”

“I told you to guess.” 

“You suck,” you huff, looking over at him and smiling when you see him trying to keep a straight face.

 “One hour?”

“Nope.”

“Two?”

“No.”

“Two and a half?”

“Nu-uh.”

“Jaemin!”

The question is left unanswered until he finishes typing on his phone, turning towards you and placing his hand out towards you, making you instinctively entwine his fingers with his. 

“It’s three hours.”

“Three hours in the same car as you? I’ll pass.”

“Excuse me,” Jaemin says, pulling his hand away from yours, “last time I checked, I was the one who carried all your stuff to the car and you’re the one who couldn’t stand being in the same car as Chenle. So, you’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not.”

“Whatever,” you huff with a smile secretly on your face. “You’re lucky I like you.”

Jaemin shakes his head at you, putting the car in reverse as he hears Jeno honk his car, the signal that they were about to start driving. He steps on the accelerator and turns the wheel in one swift motion to guide the car out of the spot it was in, making you tighten your hands around your seatbelt as your body moves to the right. 

“I hate that you pull out like that.” You look over at Jaemin to see him smirking, making you raise your hand to shove his shoulder.

“Careful! I’m driving.”

“Drive more carefully!” You rummage through his console area. “I swear, I will never understand how you got your license with those turns you make.” 

“What are you looking for?”

“The aux cord,” You say, nonchalantly. “You know you have a lot of coffee shop receipts, they’re just thrown here like tras-”

“You’re not getting the aux cord.”  

In shock at Jaemin’s words, you gape your mouth at him before scoffing. “Excuse me?”

“You never put on any good music when I let you have the aux cord!”

“I can’t believe this,” you say. “You’re finally rebelling, two years of friendship and you’ve had enough of me.” Pressing your palm to your heart in fake sadness, you close one eye to see Jaemin reaching out for the now revealed aux cord, causing you to move quicker than him to successfully grab it. “Keep your eyes on the road, Min.”

Jaemin had never found the courage to tell you this, but the nickname you had given weeks prior was still something he could not get over. He found it endearing that you had given him the name during one of your movie nights; it had left your mouth so effortlessly like it had made just for you to say. 

Plugging the cord into your phone, you scroll through your shared playlist with Jaemin and click a random song to play. You ignore his protest to change the song, scrolling through your timeline and singing along to the lyrics. Another 30 seconds go by before you hear the music shut off. You scoff when you see Jaemin’s eyes drift from his phone to the road as he tries to connect to the Bluetooth of his car.

“This is how people die, Jaemin. Stop trying to play music and look at the road.” 

It takes another 10 seconds for Jaemin to connect, play a different song, and put his phone. You decide to stop distracting him with arguing about who got to play music, so you push your seat back and continuously sigh loudly for a good minute. Jaemin could hear you clearly from the driver seat, but he knew better than to give in to what you wanted. However, when you start to reach your arm out and shove his shoulder every time you sighed, he decides to grab his phone and toss it onto your lap. 

“You better not play any Christmas music.”

After, the car ride was then full of either you and Jaemin yelling lyrics together, you asking for bathroom breaks, or scolding Jaemin’s careless driving. Either way, the ride wasn’t as long and dreadful as you thought it would be, mostly since Jaemin had given you the aux cord privilege almost the entire ride there.

You are now about two hours into the car ride when Jeno takes a turn into a rest stop, making both you and Jaemin look at each other in confusement. You both remain silent as Jaemin turns and parks in the empty spot next to Jeno. In seconds, Jeno’s back seat doors swing open and two boys run into the main building’s front door. Figuring out why Jeno had turned into the rest stop, you eye the building’s windows to see the outline of vending machines before clicking off your seatbelt and running into the building. Jaemin decided not to question, instead, he leaves his seat and leans against his car to talk to Jeno.  

Swinging the doors open, you walk over to the vending machines, bending at the waist to see inside. When you begin to eye the chips, you reach into your pocket for your wallet only to feel your coat pocket empty. Desperately, you press the change button in hopes of it spitting money, not surprised when nothing comes out. So, realizing you had only one choice left, you run back to the car and stand quietly next to Jaemin, your hands cupped in front of you as you look at him. He eyes your hands suspiciously, eyes becoming smaller as a sign of confusion. It wasn’t until his eyes went back to normal and his lips became pursed that you knew that he had understood what you were implying. His hand reaches into his pocket to pull out his wallet, placing a $5 bill in your hand before shooing you off with his hand. You turn around before he can even say anything, knowing exactly what you were going to buy. The silent interaction makes Jeno chuckle before he continues his conversation with his friend. 

How could two people be so oblivious? 

By the time Chenle and Jisung had made their ways out of the bathroom, you were already pressing buttons quickly on the vending machine. Feeling a prickling feeling on the back of your neck, you turn around to see both of them, waving before turning back to the machine. Chenle skips to meet you, standing next to you as you put your hand into the flap to get your snacks out.

“Y/N! You should get me some food!”

“I can’t, Chenle,” you say, pinching his cheek. “I spent all the money given to me.”

“Given?” Chenle questions your wording, letting out a sound when he comes to a conclusion. “Of course! Jaemin gave you money, didn’t he? You know, I’ve known him way longer than you have and he has never even given me a dolla-”

“How did you even know it was him?” You raise an eyebrow at Chenle. “For all you know, Jeno could have given it to me.” 

“Y/N,” Chenle says, putting his hands on your shoulders and drooping his head to the side, “I’m not an idiot, that’s why.” 

Before you can even sass him back, Jisung is pulling the two of you away from the vending machines in an attempt to keep you all moving. From behind him, you and Chenle continue to bicker, not wanting to put the argument down as you struggle to keep your snacks from falling out of your hands. The bickering doesn’t stop even when you make it to the cars, making Jaemin grab you by the arm to put you in the car.

You let the snacks fall into your lap. Rummaging through them, you grab the bag you had gotten for Jaemin and hand it to him with a smile.

“For you.”

Jaemin gratefully takes the bag and opens the bag almost instantly, grabbing a single chip before placing the bag into the console. Once on the road, Jaemin opens his mouth and makes an ‘ah’ noise, signaling to you that you needed to feed him. Grabbing the bag, you feed him more chips and listen to the music playing in the background, freezing when Jaemin grabs your hand and places it on his cheek.

“Your hand is cold,” Jaemin says, hooking his fingers with yours and placing them on your lap. You had always admired how Jaemin had been able to do this kind of action with no shame, yet it still made you nervous how easy it came to him. Turning away so that he couldn’t see the shyness in your face, you hope the car ride won’t be much longer as you decide to close your eyes for the remaining hour. And it wasn’t until you felt someone shake you that you jumped and almost hit your head on the roof of the car. 

“Jaemin, what the heck?”

Jaemin, at your question, stops shaking you, resorting to pulling your arm to get you out of the car instead. Confused and still half asleep, you grab onto the seat to stop him from pulling you. It wasn’t until you saw the cabin in front of you that you let him pull you out of the car. 

The wooden building that you had been waiting to visit for weeks stood in your vision, its roof and ledges covered in snow. The rumble from the other cars pulling up makes you shake off your after nap daze as you hug yourself to get rid of the cold. 

You could hear music booming from inside the incoming car and you shake your head in amusement as you see the figures of Chenle and Jisung yelling in the backseats. The duo reminds you that Jeno definitely deserves a trophy for spending three hours in the same car as them. Then, another car pulls into the cabin’s area next to Jeno’s, the passenger seat opening up first that was then followed by the sound of snow crunching under the person’s feet. And in a few seconds, you see your friend, Ryujin, standing a few feet away from you. 

Not even taking a moment to say hello to the other boys, the both of you aggressively wave at each other in recognition as Ryujin runs over to you, pulling you away from Jaemin and placing you into the car she had come in.

“Tell me,” she says as she grabs both of your hands and looks at you impatiently. 

You turn your head to look in the rear view mirror to see the eyes of Yeji staring back at you, moving her eyebrows up and down as she also gives you a look similar to the girl holding your hands. 

“What are you going on about?” you ask, looking between the both of them. 

“You ditched our car ride,” Ryujin says, pointing between Yeji and herself, “to ride with Jaemin. So, did you make a move or what?”

You widen your eyes slightly at the question before crossing your arms, taken back by the bizarre question.

“I will have the both of you know,” you point out, mimicking the same finger movements as Ryujin, “that Jaemin is my friend. I don’t know where you’re getting these ideas from.”

A gasp leaves both of the girls' mouths unanimously, making you feel as if they had scripted the entire scene happening in front of you. 

“So are did you forget that you and him were literally mak-”

Before Ryujin could even finish her question, you cover her mouth with your hands, knowing exactly what memory she was trying to bring back. You pull your hands back when she pulls back as well, raising her hands in surrender as a signal she would drop the conversation. 

“Fine, but if you don’t do something about your little,” she says, flailing her arms around, “love affair situation, I’ll make sure he does.” 

You move your head from side to side to mock her expression as she does the same thing, the both of you stopping when you hear a knock on the window. Looking over, the ice on the window is wiped by the sleeve of the boy of the hour, him raising his eyebrows at you and the other girls in the car before looking back at you.

“Hey,” he says, “I’m kind of cold out here.”

“See! He’s waiting for you! He’s such a gentle-”

Ryujin is quieted by the ‘sh’ of you and Yeji and you silently thank the girl in the driver seat before opening the door to meet the cold air. Of course, not without seeing a wink come from Ryujin’s direction.  Shaking your head, you leave the car to stand next to Jaemin. The two of you silently decide that it was too frigid to attempt to bring anything in, making you both dash towards the door to get out of the cold, blowing wind. Making it inside, you see Chenle pressing buttons on the thermostat and hear the air system start. You look around at the space around you and continue to observe until you hear Chenle’s voice fill the room.

“Okay, so there are three rooms in total. However you split them doesn’t bother me, but you know I’m pairing with Jisung,” Chenle says, pulling the younger boy closer to him. 

The atmosphere quickly drops as everyone stops moving and eyes meet other people’s eyes in the living room. However, reactions came just as quickly as Chenle’s decision had been made as you feel both of your arms being pulled away from each other.

“I don’t think so,” you hear to your right, looking over to see Ryujin staring down at Jaemin while she clings to your arm. A string of curse words rings in your head as you realize what was happening, especially after looking forward to seeing Jeno, mouth wide open, looking offended at the entire ordeal.

“Dude! I thought it was going to be you and me!” 

Jaemin looks over at Jeno who has his arms crossed on his chest; realizing that rooming with Jeno may be best, he reluctantly lets go of your arm. Ryujin jumps up in happiness and quickly pulls you to her and Yeji’s side, much to Jaemin’s despair. 

After everyone had managed to grab their roommates, the rest of the evening was spent mostly in the living room or the kitchen, the speakers of the house filled with whoever could manage to connect to them first. And thankfully, Jisung had come more prepared than everyone else, pulling out multiple packs of hot chocolate powder from his hoodie pocket minutes after everyone had settled.

A loud song was playing on the speakers as you put a small pot and filled it with milk onto the stove to boil, looking over to see everyone interacting and laughing together. The sight made a small smile form on your face as you look back at the pot, jumping when you feel arms wrap around you.

“You know,” Jaemin says from behind you, “the microwave works fine.”

You turn in his arms and scoff, playful pushing his chest. “Microwaved milk is not the same as boiled.”

“Well,” Jaemin says, dragging out the end of the word, “some of us aren’t as picky as you.”

Maybe it was the heater that was making you feel warm -or maybe it was just you- but Jaemin seemed very close to you as he kept his arms wrapped around you. Maybe even too close. So close you could smell the peppermint he had been eating from the glass bowl that was on the living room coffee table. And a part of you wondered if he was thinking the same thing as you, if one of you would lean in a bit closer. You could feel his arms on your back, looking down at lips for maybe a second too long, something that definitely gets noticed by Jaemin. 

However, the two of you are interrupted by an ‘um’ sound coming from the entrance of the kitchen, looking over to see Jisung standing there, nervous and scratching the back of his next as he looks at you both.

“I-” he says. “I just wanted to, you know, know if the hot chocolate was...ready.”    

Jaemin and you pull away quickly at the realization of a third person in the room. Looking over to the pot and turning off the stove, you answer Jisung’s question. “Yeah. It’s ready.”   

The young boy nods aggressively as he heads back to the main room. You lean back against the counter, looking over at Jaemin who’s already looking at you, before pushing yourself off the counter and calling everyone over. 

𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠.

It’s midnight when you can see everyone struggling to stay awake, everyone quieter and less talkative than usual. You tell everyone that it’s probably best to head to bed and as they all get up to go to their rooms, you realize that all of your things are still in Jaemin’s car. The tired side of you told you to sleep in the clothes you had, but the warmer clothes you had bought for pajamas seemed to outweigh your tiredness. 

As everyone heads into the assigned rooms, you sneak up to Jaemin and poke his shoulder, making him turn around and look at you through half-asleep eyes.

“Can you come with me to get my bags?” you implore, tugging at the sleeve of his hoodie as he throws his head back at your question. A dragged ‘please’ leaves your mouth as you pull him closer towards the door, the both of you knowing that he would eventually give in. 

Your prediction was proven correct when you hear a jingling sound come from his hand and look down to see his keys, pulling him quicker to be able to be done faster. And just as fast as the door closed, Chenle's words came out just as fast.

“He’s so whipped.” The comment made Jeno chuckle. He was amused, but definitely not surprised. 

You don’t let go of Jaemin’s sleeve even when you reach the car, only letting go when you hear him unlock the car. You desperately wanted to get some sleep, knowing that all of you would most likely drain all your energy tomorrow. The thought makes you grab your things quicker, making Jaemin laugh at your attempt to carry all your things inside. When he sees that you're actually struggling, he reaches out to free one of your hands, looking at your face and smiling down at the ground.

“What are you smiling about?” you ask him, shuttering from the cold. 

“Nothing,” he responds, tossing a bag over his shoulder, “it’s nothing.”

“Well if it’s nothing, I’d like to go back inside. It’s freezing. Plus, I’m currently holding a grudge against you, so I shouldn’t be talking to you.”

“Woah, hold up a minute. What did I do?” Jaemin watches you as you head back towards the cabin, pulling his feet from the snow to catch up to you. He knows there’s only one thing that will break you, leading him to repeatedly call out your name as the two of you walk back.

“Y/N.”

Silence.

“Y/N.”

Silence again.

Jaemin isn’t one to give up easily, and an idea crosses his mind as he looks around him, miles of snow in his vision. Quietly placing your things on the ground, Jaemin picks up a ball of snow into his hands and chucks it at your back, making a gasp leave your mouth. Now, if Jaemin had placed your bags on the ground quietly, you did the complete opposite. You don’t think twice before letting your things fall, quickly ducking down and throwing snow back at Jaemin. 

The two of you look at each other with knowing eyes, knowing exactly what was going to happen next. As soon as you duck, Jaemin is ducking down with you. He’s able to form a snowball quicker than you, leading your flight to kick in and you find yourself running away from him.   

“Jaemin!” you yell out, “Please it’s too cold!”

You couldn’t even turn around to see if he had heard you, because in the blink of an eye you and him were both on the ground. He had managed to pull the both of you down, him on top as you laid on your back.

“You,” Jaemin begins saying, pressing the cold snow onto your chest as you squeal, “have a cold heart.“ 

“Okay! Okay! I’m sorry!” You grab onto his hand to stop him from grabbing the snow around you. “No more grudges!”

Even after the statement is made and the two of you stop giggling at each other, neither you nor Jaemin attempt to get up from the ground. The two of you -for the second time that day- were once again too close. You could see Jaemin’s nose turning pink from the cold and you felt your cheeks stinging from the cold wind. You could see each one of his eyelashes and how his bottom ones curved to hit the upper part of his cheeks. You could see the fog come out of each other's mouths as the two breathed. Jaemin brings his hand up to your face to take snow off your face, his cold fingers making you shiver even more. You think back to the kitchen a couple of hours ago, wondering if he would make the move that you had predicted hours ago. 

But once again, you don't have time to react when you hear the door open and a scream fills the area.

“Yah! Where are you two lovebirds? Did you guys freeze?... Hello!” 

Chenle’s screams make Jaemin huff as he pulls himself off you, reaching out a hand to help you up. You grab onto him, finding your balance before quickly picking up your things and heading toward the door; Chenle found it confusing when you walked past him, your things and back covered in snow and Jaemin silently walking behind you. 

“Thank you, Min.” You place a hand onto Jaemin’s chest before getting on your toes as you push yourself up and place a small kiss onto his forehead. “Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

Walking into your designed room, you roll your eyes when you hear Ryujin gasp from the bed as she eyes your back.

“Did you two do it on the ground-”

“No, Ryujin.” 

𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝟐:𝟑𝟎 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠!

You’re not sure what time it is when you hear a door slam somewhere in the cabin, the sound followed by harsh mumbles. The room is dark around you and you feel Ryujin’s limbs thrown over you, making you shove them off you. You attempt to fall asleep again, but the mumbles are getting louder by the second, and you knew it would only be a matter of time before the sounds would wake everyone up. So getting up using the only sleep you had gotten, you walk on the cold wooden ground until you step on something, something that yelps back at you.

“Yeji!” You say in a harsh whisper, “I’m so sorry.”

“What the hell are you doing awake?” Yeji flashes her phone screen that reads ‘2:30’ at you to create light, confused as to why you were leaving the room.

“Someone’s mumbling in the hallway.”

“It’s probably Chenle and Jisung, they’re probably calling off their wedding.” 

You slightly kick her side as you hold back a laugh, whispering you would be back soon. Opening the door, the whispers get louder and you squint your eyes to see Jaemin standing outside his and Jeno’s room, arms crossed and head moving as he continues to talk.

“We’ve been here not even a day, Jeno! A day! And you already have your console plugged up on the TV. I’m trying to sleep.”

“You could just play with me.”

“For goodness sake Jeno, I want to sleep! Go ask Yeji to play, yeah? You two do that a lot.”

“Go sleep with Y/N then, yeah? You seem to want to do tha-” 

“Dude! Shut up!”

“You started it!”

“How about both of you shut up?” You see the two of them turn their heads. Although you can’t see their eyes, you can see their figures in the darkness and watch Jaemin drop his crossed arms and Jeno take a step back in surprise. “We’re all trying to sleep.”

The two begin to bicker again, only this time they were whispering towards you in an attempt to get you on their side. But before they could say anything else, you bring your hand up and flick the hallway light on. 

“You two,” you say, pointing at both of them, “need to come to an agreement. An agreement that doesn’t involve me. Goodnight. See you tomorrow. Or today… just… whatever!” 

You walk back to your shared room, ignoring the feeling of two pairs of eyes on you. You probably wanted just as much sleep as Jaemin wanted. Ignoring the creaking sound of the door, you pull the knob and open the door, also ignoring the whine of the girls from the light in the hallway.

That same day, the group is awakened by none other than Chenle knocking on everyone’s door, yelling about going into town. You toss the sheets on you to the side and stumble over to your suitcase, throwing clothes left and right as you look for an outfit. As soon as you’re done dressing, the two other girls in the room finally wake up and you leave the room before they can ask you for help.

You walk into the kitchen and open the fridge to find it stocked with food: much thanks to Chenle’s mom. Grabbing the first thing that appealed to you, you close the fridge and turn around, jumping back when you to see Jeno come out of no where.

“Good morning,” he says quietly as he chuckles at your reaction. “Sleep well?”

You smile at the boy while sitting at one of the bar seats. “I slept alright. Did you sleep at all?”

“I slept as much as I could.” He laughs as you laugh with him. 

“Did Jaemin sleep any?”

“Always so worried about him,” Jeno replies teasingly, smiling at you. “He slept as much as he could too.”

“I’m guessing he’s still sleeping then,” you ask, shaking your head. You watch as Jeno nods, feeling bad for Jaemin.

You excuse yourself from the conversation and walk over to Jeno and Jaemin's shared room, opening the door slowly when you get there. You see him sprawled all over the bed and stifle back a laugh, wondering how he found the position comfortable. Climbing onto the bed and lying next to him, you move the hairs off his forehead and softly shake his shoulder as you try to wake him up. When he whines, you tell about Chenle’s plans to go into town and the only response you get is Jaemin wrapping an arm around your waist. He pulls you closer as you protest that he needs to get up and get ready. He hushes you when you continue talking, pressing your head into his chest as he kisses the top of your head.

“Just lay here with me for a second.”

At his request, the room becomes silent. You feel Jaemin wrap his other hand around you and you close your eyes tightly as you feel a smile form slowly on your face. Messing with the collar of his sleep shirt, you think about what the town shops would consist of. And due to how oblivious you are, you can’t see Jaemin’s internal struggle and how your fingers brushing his collarbones are making him feel dizzy. But, the alarm Jaemin had set goes off in the background, making you get up from the comfortable stop you were in. Your back is facing Jaemin, making you miss the way Jaemin instinctively had reached for you when you had gotten off the bed.

Reaching the door frame, you turn around to look at Jaemin who is already looking at you. “You should get ready.”

Realizing you weren’t going to come back, Jaemin nods and walks over to where his clothes are, taking his shirt off nonchalantly. You turn around nervously to look away, muttering how you would be in the living room waiting. Making your way, you bump into Jisung, saying good morning to the boy with bed hair as you pass him quickly. Jisung doesn’t question, especially after seeing the room you had walked out of. 

You sit in the living room waiting for the rest of the group to come out as you click through the different channels the TV had to offer. The majority of the things playing on the screen were old, 2000s Christmas movies you had seen multiple times. You continue to click for a couple of minutes, settling for a Rom-com Christmas movie you weren’t familiar with. The pair on the TV is in the middle of a confession in the snow when you feel someone grab onto your shoulder, making you jump in surprise.

“Getting ideas?” You look over your shoulder to see Yeji standing behind, proudness on her face from her joke. You squint your eyes at her as a sign that you weren’t amused, laughing when she did the same thing. Yeji takes a seat next to you, her face suddenly turning serious as she puts a hand on your shoulder.

“Can I tell you something? Like serious?”

“Of course,” you say, scooting closer to her as your curiosity peaks. “What’s up?”

Yeji grabs your hand and looks you in the eyes, making you nervous. She was at times intimidating out of the two girls, leading you to lose eye contact with her as you waited for what she was going to say.

“You know, it’s perfectly fine to have feelings for someone. No one is going to hate you for it.”

At her words, your body retracts away from her as you take in what she was saying. To be frank, you knew what she was talking about, but then again a part of you had never taken a moment to sit down and think about what your actual feelings were towards Jaemin.

“Yeji,” you say softly, feeling shy at the whole ordeal, “I don’t think it’s that.”

“What else could it be?” Yeji grabs onto your shoulders and shakes them. “This is not a bad thing, you know? He does a lot for you, and I’m not saying you should, well, like him because of that, but he’s a good guy. Jeno tells me that he talks about you like fifty percent of the time. The other fifty percent is the times when he's actually with you.”

You laugh in amusement with Yeji, the both of you straighten up when everyone else walks in at the same time into the living room. They’re talking amongst each other as they grab bags and shoes to leave, Yeji nudging you when you look over to see Jaemin handing you your coat. You quietly thank him as you take it from him, standing up to leave the cabin with everyone else. You look back to look at Yeji, who is giving you two thumbs up as you walk out the door, Jaemin talking to you about some dream he had.  

𝟐𝟓% 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐮𝐩.

Jaemin’s rambling voice fills the car as the both of you follow behind the lead driver, Jeno. You hum in response every once in a while as Jaemin continues talking, trying to act engaged in the conversation. However, your mind is somewhere else; you’re thinking deeply at what Yeji had told you. Did you have feelings for Jaemin? And if you did, did he reciprocate them? All these questions rang through your head. The train of thought only stops when you hear Jaemin call out to you.

“Are you okay? You seem out of it.”

“I’m okay,” you say, messing with the volume on the music. “Just thinking.”

Jaemin is not really sure on what to say, instead, he resorts to playing yours and his favorite song on the speakers. He uses his phone as a microphone, handing it to you when your favorite part comes on. Taking it gratefully, you start to sing with Jaemin, pointing to him for impact. 

You squeeze your eyes shut as you- attempt to- belt out one of the high notes. Jaemin stops his singing to admire you in your current state, smiling and shaking his head as you hold your throat after trying too hard. However, you stop after realizing that Jeno had just made a turn, making you point your finger aggressively to the left to signal Jaemin to turn. A bunch of little shops comes into your vision, all decorated for the holidays. The first thing that catches your eyes is a coffee shop at the end of the row. You’re already jumping out of your seat before Jaemin can even put the car into park, him worrying you would jump out the car as it was moving. When the car finally comes to a stop, you open your door and wait for Jaemin to come out to grab his sleeve and pull him towards the shop, saying goodbye to the rest of the group. 

Jaemin first balances himself before he can walk at your quickstep, looking around to see the other shops you had given no attention to. He was thankful that if someone was going to be his friend, it was you, someone who could understand his coffee addiction. 

A small bell rings over the two of you as you both walk into the barely illuminated shop. Both of you up to the counter, Jaemin already talking about what he was going to order. When the two of you reach the spot and begin to order, the barista smiles at the both of you, imploring a question.

“Hi! Are you guys here for the contest? Twenty-five percent off your order if you enter!”

Before you can ask what she’s talking about, Jaemin tells her that the two of you are in fact there for the contest, making you laugh as you look away from the both of them. The barista takes both your names and writes them on your cups, saying how the results would be announced in the evening in the center of the outlets. You cover your mouth to stop yourself from laughing as Jaemin pulls you away to a seat all the way in the back.

“Jaemin,” you say, completely taken back, “you don’t even know that the contest is!”  

“I’m sorry! The discount was too tempting not to take.” Jaemin tries to hold back his own laughter when he sees you hit your head on the table, too embarrassed to even ask anyone what the contest was about.

When the two of you receive your drinks, you and him begin to talk about your classes from the freshly ended semester. Jaemin talked about how not having you in any class made the days seem unbearable; no one was there to thump his head when he was falling asleep, nor to give him the notes when he actually fell asleep. You told him that not everything could be like the class you two had shared freshman year, Jaemin nodding in agreement. But, maybe that’s why the two of you were closer now. Not sharing a class made the two of you reach out for each other, something you had always told him you were grateful for. The morning rides to school and the once in a while breakfast “dates” were the things that made your mornings better. You weren’t sure if you could handle anyone else except for Jaemin in the mornings.  

At one point, the drinks you two had bought become empty. Neither of you noticed, too focused on the conversation to really care. Furthermore, neither of you even saw the barista leaning over the counter looking at the two of you. 

When more people began to walk into the shop, Jaemin decided to leave and look around other shops. Jaemin motions for you to hook your arm around his, you not thinking twice before doing it. The bell rings as the both of you walk out, somewhat like the signal of something new. 

You both joke around while walking around in the cold air, Jaemin pulling you into random shops that caught his eye every once in a while. He had pulled you into a candy shop, a bookstore, and a bakery, buying you whatever it was you wanted. A part of you felt guilty when he had offered to buy you the newest edition of the book series you had just started, but Jaemin called it an early Christmas present.

Everyone now and then, you would cross the rest of the group, their hands also filled with different bags and coffee shop cups. Sometime in the afternoon, when the sun begins to go down, everyone meets in their parked cars. Everyone began to talk about where they had gone, what they had done before the air began to be filled with music. You look around to see the darkness become illuminated with holiday lights on the light post, the tree in the center of the outlets turn on as people take pictures next to it. A small stage had been placed next to the tree, a band played music that filled the area. A group of people began to huddle to listen to the music and your group slowly makes their way with everyone else. While those around began to pull their phones out to record, your group listens intently to the music, enjoying the peacefulness of the area. Jaemin stands next to you, looking at you as you listen to the music. Reaching out for your hand, he spins you around in your spot, making you smile. He had never seen someone look so pretty under Christmas lights. 

Jaemin stops looking at you when he feels someone tapping on his shoulder. He turns around to see the same barista from before looking at him with a big smile, two sashes in her hand. 

“Congratulations!” The barista puts a sash over Jaemin. She walks over to you as well and does the same thing. 

You look at the sash she had just put around you. Reading what it says, you panic and look over at Ryujin who is already taking her phone out.

Cutest Couple.

Saying thank you to the barista, you pull Jaemin’s arm and make your way towards his car. The both of you don’t say anything to each other, too busy laughing to get any coherent words out.

“I told you! This is exactly why you need to ask things before you say yes to anything!” 

“Well,” Jaemin says, pressing you against the door of the passenger seat, “I think we’d make a cute couple.”

Jaemin looks at you with sparkling eyes. You feel his lips close to yours as you speak. “I think we would too.” 

𝐖𝐞'𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫. 𝐀𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬.

After winning the contest (and taking pictures of you and Jaemin’s matching sashes), the group made their way to the cabin. The interaction between you and Jaemin had been interrupted by a yelling Ryujin and Chenle, nothing too surprising. Reaching the cabin, you said a quick goodnight to everyone before walking to your room. Ryujin was once again asking questions, and you had to hold back a smile to not give anything away. 

You’re the first to wake up in the room the next day. The room is full of light now and you're able to step around Yeji as you make your way out of the room, wondering if Jaemin had gotten any sleep last night. 

Your question is answered when you see Jaemin sitting at the kitchen bar with his eyes closed and face resting on his propped up hands. Shaking your head in amusement, you pull out the seat opposite of his and say good morning, making him open only one eye to see who it was. 

“I’m guessing you didn’t get any sleep.” Jaemin slaps his hands onto the counter at your obvious statement. 

“No, I actually slept like a baby.”

“That’s good to hear.”

Jaemin leans back in his seat and mocks your statement by making exaggerated facial expressions. As you expected, he also starts to complain. 

“He’s ridiculous. Who plays video games at two in the morning?”

“You do.”

“That’s not the point!”

You laugh at his hypocritical statement, standing up from the seat and stretching your arms out, luring him to follow you. Once he’s next to you, you grab his hand and lead him to the biggest couch in the living room. Sitting down at the end, you pat at your chest. Jaemin understands what you’re signaling, happily lying on your chest and closing his eyes.

“Why couldn’t I room with you?” Jaemin moves his hand to touch yours, playing with your fingers as he talks to you.

“Well,” you say, running your hand through his bed hair, “you gave me up too easily.”

“I can just kick Jeno out, make him sleep on the couch.”

“He’s not your husband. You can’t just kick him out.”

“Doesn’t matter, I just want to be with you.”

Jaemin’s statement makes you raise your eyebrows, taken back by his words. You feel your chest compress, not because he was laying on you, but because the words had made you nervous and the adrenaline made your heartbeat faster. However, before you could even worry if he could hear your heartbeat, you heard small snores break the silence and you’re then able to let out the breath you had been holding.

 It only takes you a couple of minutes for you to fall asleep, not wanting to wake him up from his sleep. You figure someone else will eventually wake up before everyone else woke up as well. However, you were proven completely wrong when you hear camera shutters and quiet giggles sometime later. Opening your eyes, you see everyone standing next to the couch, phones out, and stupid smiles on their faces. You can’t move because of Jaemin’s weight on top of you, so you grunt as you cover your face with your hand, giving them the hint to leave you alone. They don’t move away until they have enough pictures, Jaemin finally waking up when they had all moved away, their faces glued to their phones as they analyze the pictures. 

“They’re so cute!” Ryujin squeals as she shows the pictures to half-asleep Yeji. “Too bad they’re too oblivious, and ignorant, and -”

“That’s enough.” You walk over to her and look down at her phone, shaking your head for the second time that day. You didn’t see a point in trying to grab her phone and deleting them, knowing that another 4 people had the same pictures. Looking back, you see Jaemin doing the same thing as you, looking at the pictures on Jeno’s phone. 

The two of you share a glance, giving each other smiles of amusement and small embarrassment. You couldn’t tell by looking at him, but Jaemin already had a plan up his sleeve. 

𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫.

It’s early afternoon while you, Yeji, and Ryujin all lie in the bed of the shared bedroom. The three of you giggling and showing each other random videos to entertain each other for the past couple of minutes. In the middle of it all, the door swings open and you see Na Jaemin come in with a goofy smile. He walks over quickly to where you are, picking you up bridal style and taking you out of the room, Ryujin hot on his trail.

“You can’t just take her! She’s my roommate!”

“Too bad! She’s staying with me now.”

Ryujin dramatically turns around to look at Yeji who is looking back at her with an emotionless face. “It had to happen sooner or later, no?”

In the meantime, it takes Jaemin approximately 5 seconds to take you into the room he was sharing with Jeno, throwing you onto the bed when he was close enough. Your confused expression makes him throw himself next to you, getting on his back as he looks up to you.

“I convinced Jeno to sleep in the living room. He can connect his console there and play all night. Plus, Yeji was complaining about sleep on the floor the entire time during breakfast. So it’s a win for everyone!”

Letting out a teasing scoff, you begin to tease Jaemin. “I never said I wanted to room with you.”

Jaemin frowns at your words, crossing his arms and turning to have his arms propped on the bed. “Too bad, that’s the deal.”

“Guess I’ll suffer.” You throw yourself back onto the bed, smiling while knowing Jaemin was still frowning. It’s quiet in the room for the next couple of minutes, you and Jaemin laying on your backs as you both stare at the ceiling.

“Do you remember,” Jaemin begins to recall, “that frat party we went to like a month ago?”

“How could I forget.” You sit up in your spot, looking over at Jaemin who’s deep in thought. “We touched lips-”

“I hate it when you call it that!”

“What else are you supposed to call it?”

“Making out, Y/N. That’s what it’s called.”

“Well, I like my way better.” You look over at Jaemin who is shaking his head at vulgar phrasing; you fall back into the back to continue the conversation. “Why are you bringing it up, Min?” 

“No reason, I was just remembering.”

Not wanting to pressure him, you stay quiet and stop asking questions. You look out the window to see snow falling again, an idea coming to mind.

“Jaemin,” you say, pushing his shoulders, “let’s go out in the snow.” 

Jaemin stays quiet for a few seconds after your request, looking at you for a second as if he was planning something before nodding once and getting off the bed. You don’t question it; instead, you make your way towards the door and walk towards the main entrance. 

When you open the door, you’re surprised to see more snow piled up than the day before. Running down the steps, you step into the snow and feel your feet sink with every step. You cling your jacket tighter to your chest as you walk farther into the yard; Jaemin stomps into the snow behind you. Taking small jumps to create warmth, you continue walking until you reach open space before falling on your back. 

“Let’s make snow angels.” You start first by moving your arms and legs, smiling when you see Jaemin smiling too, shaking his head.

Jaemin sits in the spot next to you, drawing shapes into the snow rather than copying you. First, he spelled out his name, drawing doodles and tiny hearts. Then, he spelled yours, drawing stars and a smiley face around it. When he finishes, he grabs the snow around him, staring at the names on the ground. You had stopped making the snow angel; staying on the ground and looking up, you stick your tongue out to catch falling snow. Jaemin finds your expression endearing, before getting up and walking towards one of the trees. You don’t really question him, knowing Jaemin had a curious mind. 

Snow keeps falling, less than a while ago, but slightly covering up over the print you had made in the snow. Stretching out your limbs again, you make a fresh one. A couple of seconds go by before Jaemin walks over with a stick in his hands and tells you not to move.

“What are you going to do? Stab me?” 

Jaemin chuckles, walking around you in a non-circular manner, tracing something into the snow around you. When he finishes, he steps backs and looks around whatever he traced around. In the same amount of time, you see him panic and step towards you.

“You know what, don’t get up.” You can hear the panic in his voice and your curiosity makes you stand up quickly, ignoring Jaemin’s protest.

Around you, you can see a heart traced around your snow angel.

Your eyes continued to be placed on the ground, not noticing Jaemin aggressively rubbing his face with his hands, embarrassed and disappointed. He couldn’t even confess correctly. And overall, he was disappointed at the fact that he couldn’t keep his impulsiveness in check. 

“Min, what is this?”

“I,” Jaemin says, “Gosh, I’m sorry. I’m an idiot.”

You watch as Jaemin turns his back towards you, making his way back to the cabin with his head down. Maybe you were feeling the same impulsiveness as Jaemin because you jog up to Jaemin and pull at his hand. You weren’t sure what to do, just as confused as Jaemin. But when he turns to look at you, you place your hands on his checks and look him directly into his eyes.

“Use your words,” you say to him softly. “What are you doing?”

Jaemin grabs your hands and gently pulls them off his face, holding them at waist level. “I remember,” he begins to say, “when I met you during our freshman year, how you would show up in a rush every morning. And how one day you sat next to me and made fun of my drink, saying it was definitely too dark to not be poison. How you would doodle on the corner of your paper and then one day you wrote your number on my notes.”

You laugh as you recall the memory, remembering how bold you had felt at that moment.

“And then you said that you knew I wasn’t paying attention, so you would send me the notes after you got home. You’re the only reason I passed that chapter quiz.”

Jaemin stops for a second, thinking before continuing. 

“But I think it was the day when you asked me for a ride and then forced me to stop at that boba shop that I realized that we were... destined? Is that too cheesy? Y/N, I don’t know what I’m saying. But you ordered that nasty boba and I knew that if someone also had gross drink orders like me, we probably were meant to become something.”

“My boba order is not nasty.”

  “My point is,” Jaemin says, ignoring you, “I-”

Jaemin looks at you with complete uncertainty on his face, not sure if he was rushing himself. But, he already felt as though he had made a fool out of himself more than he would have liked, so his only option now was to keep going. 

“I don’t want to keep giving you car rides if I can’t hold your hand, I don’t want to have to fight over you sleeping in the same room as me, and I definitely don’t want to make snow angels with anyone else… I don’t want you to make snow angels with anyone else.”

Shyness completely takes over you at this point, making you cover your face and burrow your head into his chest. For a second time, you reach out a grab his cheeks pulling him in closer. “I don’t want to make snow angels with anyone else.”

Jaemin gives you a toothless smile, the apples of his cheeks becoming more prominent on his face and you can’t help but press a small kiss to his left side. When you move to his right cheek, Jaemin meets you halfway, capturing your lips. 

You had kissed Jaemin once before, at that frat party the month before. The two of you,  somewhat tipsy, had found a ‘private’ corner and had started kissing out of nowhere. You couldn’t remember much of the details, but you do remember it being awkward the next morning when Jaemin had picked you up to take you to class. 

However, the kiss the two of you shared right now was definitely different now. It was full of admiration and years of holding back feelings. It was the warmth of hot chocolate and the cold shivers from a snowball fight. Jaemin’s hand on the back of your neck, pulling you closer was right, better than any frat party kiss.

When the two of you pull away, Jaemin rests his forehead on yours, having trouble containing his smile as he sees you beaming. “Did we just-” 

“Touch lips.”

“You know what,” Jaemin says, lifting his eyebrows with a smile, “I think I take it all back.”

That night, Jaemin lays next to you on the bed. His hands are around your waist, his face in the crook of your neck as he whispered sweet nothings to you. Jaemin had waited for this moment for months. 

“You have no idea how happy you make me.”

Although Jaemin had always been emotionally close to you, this way of behaving seemed more intimate now. His hands around you felt different and the feathery kisses he left on your collar bone were definitely something new. There was so much space on the bed, but he had chosen to remain as close as he could to you. The room was silent as you two laid there until Jaemin got up and put himself over you, pressing small kisses all over your face. His gestures made you dizzy to the point where you had pulled at his collar and pulled his lips to connect with yours. 

Your hands roamed down his chest to lay on his stomach, his hands pinning you down onto the bed. When he had finished kissing your lips, he moved his down to your neck leaving small bruises as love marks. Your hands move to his head as you roam your fingers through his hair. He removes the blanket that had been covering you as he tries to, somehow, get closer to you. The cold air was no match for the warmness that Jaemin brought you as his kisses and breath made your neck warm. 

Jaemin stops when you begin to pant and you can feel his smile ghost over your skin as he speaks.

“My snow angel.” 

#neothestars #starryktown #nctcreations #jaemin #jaemin fluff #nct dream au #nct fluff #nct dream fluff #jaemin au #nct au #jaemin x reader #nct dream #nct #jaemin scenarios #jaemin imagines #jaemin fic #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct fics #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #nct dream fic #jaemin suggestive #nct x reader #nct dream oneshot #kpop #msa ❄️ #ash’s works

[thatmultifandomhoe]

Otherworldly Lovin’

Pairing: Alien Taehyung and Human Reader

Word Count: 6,319

Genre/Rating: NSFW - Alien AU - Friends to Lovers AU - Smut - PWP - Fluff - Rated R

Overview: Not only did he crash land into your yard, but he also crashed right into your heart...among other places.

Warning: oh boy. Alien sex - masturbation - tentacles - light bondage(?) - throat fucking - breast and nipple play - oral sex (fem and tentacle receiving) - Taehyung has the ability to extend his tongue - size kink - Taehyung can change his dick to any size - there’s slime from said tentacles - multiple orgasms - multiple penetration - breeding kink - cream pie - tiddie fucking(it’s a tentacle mushed between boobs having the time of its life if that counts?) - unrealistic sex - hentai, it’s basically hentai - swearing - dirty talk - maybe some sub (fem) and dom (Tae) undertones if you squint - cum play - talk of pregnancy.

Main Master List:

Wish Upon a Star Collaboration Master List

Tagging: @thedarkwinterrose​​ @thatlongspringnight​ @ggukcangetit​ @ezralia-writes​ @hidinginmycupboard @ifntelyinspirit​

©thatmultifandomhoe 2021. Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without permission.

The breeze felt like chilly kisses along your skin during the late-night walk home. It had been fun to see your friends, but as the house party grew in numbers and space became limited, that was your cue to head out before there had been a visit from the men in blue to break it up.  It wasn’t Cara’s first time throwing a party that climbed into the triple digits, and despite being on a first name basis with law enforcement in regards to her wild parties, it wouldn’t be her last party.

Kicking at the gravel, you gathered up the hair off the back of your neck with both hands, leaning back your head to look up at the night sky while still walking. The stars were bright, brighter than diamonds, and not for the first time you found yourself grateful that you had made the decision to move to the outskirts of Arizona. Was it hot? Of course. Were people behind the wheel absolutely insane? Fuck yes. Was it risky living on your own, in the desert, in an area where crime was going up again? Extremely. Maybe it was childish and stupid, but between the sunsets and mother nature’s natural landscape, it was all worth it in your eyes.

By the time you reached the front door, you barely glanced at the ten-foot ditch that was only a few feet from the side of your house as you went inside. The ditch hadn’t always been there, and as you turned the three set of locks behind you, a cooling sensation wrapped around your calf to begin its ascent up your bare leg.

“How was the party?” it asked.

You raised an eyebrow, unphased with having a conversation with the green blob.

“Alright,” you said, holding out a hand for it to jump on to like it usually did. This time, it simply shook its little nub of a head. “I mean, it was nice to hang out with her and have a few drinks, but her house filled up fast.”

“And it’s not good for humans to be surrounded by so many people?”

The corner of your mouth lifted as you walked to the kitchen, feeling him climb up to your knee this time. “I mean, it can be dangerous when there are over a hundred people partying in a small house while intoxicated, a lot of people don’t care though.”

“But you care.”

“I do.”

Opening the cabinet, you pulled out a glass and went to the water cooler to fill it up, dropping in a few ice cubes for that extra chill, trying not to think about how cooling and enticing it felt to have the little alien crawling up your bare leg, nearly reaching your thigh. He was a slow mover but he got around.

It was this little green blob, no taller than a hand, who had been the one to create that lovely ditch in your yard, and had succeeded in scaring the absolute shit out of you at four in the morning when it happened. The last thing you ever expected in the world was for aliens to be real – yes, you had been one of the many who was a non-believer – but Taehyung had been the one to convert you quite quickly.

“You don’t look like an alien,” you said, watching as the green, see-through blob slid around on the kitchen table.

“And what does an alien look like?” it asked.

“A crap ton taller,” you immediately answered, rubbing your eyes to try and see just how it was able to talk, let alone have a voice. You could see the wooden chair that was behind it, and there was nothing inside of it. It was just a blob about the size of a softball, from space.

Apparently, that offended the creature, as it suddenly formed two small nubs – what you assumed to be arms, which were promptly placed on its side - and a nub on top for its head. “Excuse me, I don’t know what it’s like here, but where I come from, it’s extremely rude to point out someone’s size. And I’ll have you know; On my home planet I am quite larger than this.”

You blinked.

Maybe it was because you were still wondering if you were insane to be talking to a green blob claiming to be an alien, but a sudden pang went through your chest at having hurt the little guy. Sighing, your footsteps papped against the tile floor as you pulled out one of the chairs at the table to sit down.

“I’m sorry,” you said softly, leaning your cheek in the palm of your left hand to look at it. “You’re right, it was rude of me. Let’s start over. What’s your name?”

It stared up at you. At least, you assumed it was as it turned its body to face you. For a moment, the green blob stood there until finally taking a few steps towards you.

“Taehyung.”

These last few months had been an unforgettable experience, but it would be a lie to say that it hadn’t made life more interesting. The ship he had been flying in was a small metal contraption that could have easily been mistaken as a toy drone. At his request, you had brought it in the house that next morning, and after inspecting it, Taehyung announced it to be completely damaged, but not unfixable. Since then, there had been several times where you stumbled upon him trying to form the arms that he needed to try to patch it up himself, but the crash had forced him into his smaller form for protection, and made it impossible to expand himself the way he needed to.

Only a few days into his stay, you learned that his people – the Flubbers – were similar to that in regards to human height and features. Unlike measly humans, they were able to turn their bodies into this green blob at will, but mostly it was used as a defensive measure to protect themselves or when they were traveling in their small ships. As a result of the crash, Taehyung had trouble returning back to his regular form and with nowhere else to go, he became your new roommate.

But as he began to crawl underneath the fabric of your shorts, the coolness of his body was enticing in more ways than one. Your breath turned shaky as you hurried to reach down and remove him from your thigh.

“How was your night?” You suddenly asked, not wanting him to question why you removed him.

He tilted his body, but settled down in your palms. “I watched more of those shows on your Netflix account.”

“Which ones?”

“Black Butler.”

You gasped, narrowing your eyes at him as you carried him back to your room. “Come on, we were supposed to finish that together.”

“But you were gone, and I wanted to watch it,” Taehyung only remained still for a few more seconds before stretching out himself to begin crawling up your arm.

It was perhaps the weirdest sensation in the world, but it reminded you of the end result of making slime when you were back in college and your roommates dragged you out to the craft events put on by campus. Taehyung was sturdier, more solid, and less gooey. Okay, he wasn’t gooey at all. But as he crawled his way around your arm and shoulder, you were suddenly awfully aware of the fact that you were only wearing a skimpy black tank top with spaghetti straps, allowing him to feel every inch and curve of your body and soak in your body heat. He was naturally cool but he usually warmed up after crawling on your arm for a while.

The fact that he was crawling up to you wasn’t unusual. Tonight however, it was like he was attached to your body and trying to feel every single part of you.

“That’s not nice,” you murmured, shakily inhaling as he slid a tendril-like arm across your neck, his body slinking across your chest. You kicked off your shoes and glanced at your reflection in the full-length mirror. Cheeks flushed, throat bobbing as you swallowed, and you could see that he was forming another limb, stretching it out to wrap around your bicep.

“You said I could watch whatever I wanted. And I wanted to watch Black Butler.” Taehyung said.

In the mirror, you could see his small head glance down, his body suddenly pausing at the discovery that there was something underneath your shirt. He was an alien. Since his arrival, you made sure to get dressed in the bathroom so that he didn’t see certain things.

In addition to that, you hadn’t been entirely sure if he slept or not, so you had created a small bed for him on the floor of your bedroom out of a box you had and thrown in a bunch of soft towels to make it comfortable for him. He seemed to enjoy it since he slid to his bed every night, even tucking himself underneath some of the towels. So not only had you been sharing a room with an alien, but these last few months had been incredibly, touch starving, especially since you were single. It wasn’t like you could suddenly make yourself feel good when Taehyung was right there and would probably ask what you were doing and why.

And now…now you were feeling incredibly horny.

You watched him create another limb, only to close your eyes to feel it softly slide down your sternum, heart racing as it followed the curve of your breast, your pussy clenching around nothing. A second – or was it a third? Maybe a fourth? - limb slipped underneath the shirt to encircle your other breast, but this one was more curious, feeling the size and tightening around the boob when it suddenly ran over your nipple. You stumbled back against the foot-board of the bed until you sat on it, accidentally pressing yourself against the frame and hitting your clit, resulting in an audible gasp.

His limbs suddenly retracted at the sound and before you could stop yourself, you whined at the loss of them only to realize what you had done. He was an alien. You were a human.

“Did I hurt you?” Taehyung asked.

You shook your head, opening your eyes to remove him from where he had wrapped himself around your neck and set him on the bed. Not once did you glance at the mirror, already knowing how flustered you looked. “No, I’m fine.”

“Then what was that sound?”

Damn him for being so curious. “Don’t worry about it. Why don’t you go to bed? I’m going to get dressed.”

Before he could ask another question, you grabbed the spare bed and hurried to the bathroom, taking several deep breaths when certain that you were, in-fact, alone. Not once during these last few months had he touched you like that, and now that he had, you found yourself craving more. It reminded you too much of those hentai videos you occasional stumbled upon while on the hub, and as you hurriedly kicked off your shorts to slip your own hand underneath your panties, you softly moaned when you felt how wet your panties were.

He had created those limbs like it was nothing. Easily curling and wrapping himself around you like second nature, and as you ran your own finger over your clit to take care of yourself, you couldn’t help but imagine what he would have done had you let him crawl up your shorts like he had started to do. Taehyung typically kept himself in the shape of a blob, but you were certain that he would have no issue in filling you up completely.

You pressed yourself further against the wall, another soft moan escaping you. Eyes closed, you were so focused on getting off, that you missed how underneath the doorway, a flat green blob slid its way underneath the door. A limb shaped itself, watching your general direction like it was absorbing your reactions, only to disappear the same way it came when you were satisfied.

A few nights later, you sighed as you shifted under the blankets once again. The fan had done its job and made the bedroom chilly, but you still couldn’t fall asleep. You tried warm milk, listening to instrumental music, counting sheep. Nothing seemed to work.

“You’re not sleeping?” Taehyung asked.

You glanced at the box on the floor, seeing his towels shift as he moved around. He hadn’t spoken about what happened the other night and neither had you, and for that, you were grateful. He was a friend. The last thing you wanted to do was ruin the only friendship he had while he stayed until his ship was fixed.

“Just having a hard time,” you softly answered.

He was quiet for a moment. “Would you like to talk about it?”

A soft chuckle slipped out of your lips and you rolled over, holding a hand out over the edge. In seconds he was wrapping himself around the limb and crawling on to the empty space next to you.

“Do you miss it?” You asked, slipping an arm underneath your head. “Your home? Your friends and family must miss you a lot.”

“Parts of it,” Taehyung admitted. For being a small green blob – or a small green Flubber – he had a deep baritone voice, and when he spoke softly, there was a calming effect that washed over you. It was the type of voice that not only promised protection, but had the power to be absolutely sinful. “There’s my family and friends that I do miss, but it was a strict place. We’re not a species that was intended to survive you see. A long time ago, the very first of my kind had been created here on your planet by someone…a doctor Jacob, Philip, or Robin, someone at least made a mistake, and from that the first Flubber was born. Over the decades we’ve evolved and managed to repopulate ourselves, but even I can’t remember how we managed to leave this planet and end up on our own. Some poor Flubber had probably been somewhere he shouldn’t have been.”

He shifted and for some reason, if he had facial features right at that moment, you could imagine him lifting an eyebrow with the smallest of smirks. “That’s why our society is strict. We were a mistake yes, but we quite like being alive and would rather keep it that way Flubbers are expected to do as they’re told and I wanted to explore. To see other worlds and galaxies. Granted, crash landing in your back yard was not at all part of the plan, or ruining my ship, but things have had an unexpected way of working out. After all, I did go off in search of the unexpected.”

Gently smiling at him, you nodded in agreement, wetting your lips. “Do you think you’ll go back? Once you fix your ship and explore for a while?”

“Good question. Maybe. I’m not entirely sure. The human race is, well…you people are certainly the most complex creatures I have ever met. I could spend a century here and still be trying to understand everything.”

You rolled on to your back with a laugh, feeling him slide his way up onto your stomach, the sensation sending shivers running through your body since the night shirt rose up at some point. Glancing down, Taehyung stretched a limb out, running it along your waist.

“Humans are very complex,” Taehyung repeated, his voice turning husky as if this was affecting him as well. “Complex, but perhaps, the most fascinating of all creatures to exist.”

No words came from you. Once again, your breath was stuck as he extended his other limb and you watched it crawl its way underneath the shirt, this time rubbing itself right over the nipple. Like he had memorized your reaction to it last time. You shakily gasped again, but you didn’t stop him. You could barely think, unable to look away as his body shifted, expanding itself to a larger version of himself.

“I’ve been practicing to regain my normal form,” he said. “It’s been hard, but I believe I can finally go back and stay in it permanently again.”

The two short nubs he had for legs elongated and thickened with his body. No longer was he a small blob, but he was taking on a new shape. One that was leaner, taller than you, and for the first time, he was gaining features that individualized him. The more he changed, the less green and see through he was. Instead, it turned into a very dark green tint on sun kissed skin, with dark brown eyes delicately painted with streaks of green. Looking down at you - like you imagined - a smirk had found its way home on his face while at the same time, a thumb harshly squeezed and rubbed against your nipple again. You moaned and leaned back into the pillow, wanting him, wanting more.

“Like I said before, us Flubbers are very similar to you humans, only we have…something extra.”

“And what’s that?” You forced out; eyes closed as another moan slipped out when his hands grabbed both breasts. He didn’t need to answer though, because as he played with your chest, something wrapped around your leg. It was similar to his limbs that he normally curled along your body, just as cool and thick to the touch. The thing making its way up your thigh was nearly forgotten about when Taehyung suddenly yanked off the shirt you were wearing, not wasting a second to kiss and suck at your breasts.

Chest heaving, it was impossible to think straight. Parts of your body had chills running across them while others felt hotter than the desert. He wasn’t letting up. Once satisfied, Taehyung gave his complete attention to the other, determined to leave behind a purple and wet path of where he had been. Every now and then there was sharp pain, but he was quick to quiet your whimpers by running his tongue over the marks and leaving a sweet kiss. The thing that had been crawling along your leg was at mid-thigh when it tightened, drawing your attention to its existence when suddenly, something else was sliding inside of your shorts.

Your eyes immediately opened and when you looked down, common sense went out the window as you swallowed the saliva building up in your mouth, pussy clenching. The limbs that you were used to seeing were back. One was coming out of the middle of Taehyung’s back, another appeared to be coming from his side, and as you watched, two more were forming and extending themselves. Unlike the rest of his form, they were completely green, nearly see through.

“We call them Extenders,” Taehyung murmured as he left thick kisses on your skin. “Extra limbs to help carry items and with everyday tasks.”

He lifted his head, eyes searching yours as his eyebrow quirked at you. “But I believe the term that you’re more with, is, tentacles.”

Oh. Oh, you were absolutely fucked.

A soft whimper slipped out when the tentacle that had been sneaking its way underneath your shorts purposely rubbed hard over your underwear. Taehyung must have heard it because his grin widened, and his Extenders were moving your legs to cage him against you.

“Usually I’m not like this,” he continued. “I think my body is still adjusting to this planet but thinks I’m back home. During this time of year, this is normally our season when we mate. That’s something you humans don’t have here, do you?”

Despite how much you wanted the tentacle to slip underneath the underwear, it stayed right where it was, content with teasing you. “We do that whenever we want,” you finally answered. Your gaze met Taehyung’s just in time to see his eyes light up in curiosity.

“Really?”

An ache was growing the longer you remained empty, and if the Extender underneath your shorts continued rubbing the way it was, you weren’t going to be lasting much longer. So, without caring about the consequences, you cupped Taehyung’s face and kissed him deeply. The sudden action allowed the tentacles around your legs to loosen just enough for you to wrap them around his hips, pulling him closer to you. Something thick pressed against your pussy, much larger than the other Extenders growing out of him, made both of you groan at the sudden pressure.

“Mate me,” you breathed out in-between kisses. His form was solid like a human, and his hair was soft when you ran your fingers through the locks. “Please Taehyung, please mate with me. I’m begging you.”

For a moment, Taehyung just stared down at you. Even the tentacles that had been sliding along your body paused at your words. It only lasted for that one moment. The corner of his lips curled upwards and the green streaks in his eyes darkened before he kissed you again, pressing himself completely against you.

Taehyung’s normal form may have appeared human, and besides the tentacles that moved on their own and were currently crawling their way up your sides and arms, it seemed that he was able to extend not just them, but every part of his body. The kiss was a frenzy from the start, and when the tentacle finally slipped underneath the underwear like you wanted and began to rub your clit earnestly, butterflies swarmed as your lower belly tightened, the orgasm that had been building was now forced from you.

He abruptly broke the kiss and pushed himself up, his hungry gaze running down the length of your body as you gasped in the fresh air. There was no break for you because he ripped away the remaining clothing and threw your legs over his shoulder to lick at your pussy. You lost track of how many tentacles were wrapping along your body, barely noticing that it wasn’t Taehyung holding you open as he ate like a starved man. Tears pooled at the corner of your eyes from over-stimulation, but when he suckled at your clit and something long entered your pussy, you cried out in pleasure at finally being filled. It was different from the tentacles caressing your body, more tapered and thinner, and when your walls squeezed around it, Taehyung groaned and every vibration sent your nerves into overdrive.

Glancing down at him, you realized that what was inside you was not another tentacle. There were two green Extenders holding your legs in place, and one currently held your wrists together bound above your head as numbers four and five slid along your body. One of them curled around your chest, leaving behind a slippery green slime in its path that felt cool to the touch as the other made its way closer to your face. You dropped your head back down on the pillow and tried to lift your hips to grind against Taehyung’s face, but a harsh suck made you gasp and stop all movement.

The tentacle reached your face, lazily poking your cheek until you rewarded it with undivided attention. Its movements were gentle as it traced the shape of your lips, the slime it left behind smearing across your face elicited a moan from the alien that was on the receiving end of you being turned on. This was one wet dream that you had never thought would become a reality, and now that it was happening, you didn’t want it to stop. Relaxing against the bed, you wet your lips out of habit before opening your mouth. Like you hoped, the tentacle went in to inspect this new place.

It was slippery as you ran your tongue against the tentacle, discovering it had some weight to it, and the slime that it oozed was sweet like the honey you used in teas. Out of curiosity you swallowed around the limb. A strangled groan came from Taehyung, and it twitched within its confines but didn’t try to remove itself. The more you sucked, the more it appeared to lubricate itself, forcing you to alternate every so often.

“Fucking hell,” Taehyung moaned. Sitting on his knees, he gazed down at you with eyes dark enough to appear black, those green streaks bright enough to glow in the dark. He was finally able to see what his tentacles had gotten themselves up to while he had been busy having his own meal, his chin wet as his tongue shrunk back to normal size.

Taehyung stared at you as the tentacle went further in your mouth, his chest heaving when you relaxed yourself to take it even further. All of the tentacles tightened at your actions, but his gaze went to your chest where one Extender had succeeded in wrapping itself around your breasts to squeeze them together and was currently rubbing itself between the small space, creating a slippery mess that made your skin tingle until it was numb.

“Look at you,” Tae murmured, lowering himself back down to your lower half. “You’re a mess darling.” He kissed your hip sweetly, quite the contradiction to everything else as one of his tentacles was in the midst of thrusting itself down your throat. Butterflies fluttered when he kissed his way across your belly, following the path of slime that had been left behind until his lower half was firmly pressed against yours, his hips grinding against yours so his cock rubbed along your lips.

“An absolute, fucking mess.”

You were so used to the jokes and pleasantries from Taehyung that to hear him swear, to call you darling as he rubbed himself against you, to have him use you as he wanted, it made your head spin until there was nothing but pure desire and need on your mind. He had already gotten you to orgasm twice without cumming himself and you still felt empty. He had yet to give you what you really wanted.

He went higher, not stopping until he was leaving wet kisses on your throat. “Such a beautiful, fucking, mess, and we’re not even done. Think you can keep up with me and my friend’s darling?”

The tentacle pulled out of your mouth then, allowing you to sharply inhale as Taehyung wiped away the string of saliva connecting you to it. He was patient as you caught your breath, amusing himself by continuing his kisses up to the back of your ear. Strands of hair were plastered to your forehead and despite everything, you felt more alive than you ever had.

 “More,” you softly whispered, throat a bit sore.

Taehyung softly hummed. Palms trailed up your sides, smearing the slime all over and up on your breasts, not caring that there was a tentacle obsessed with loving them.

“I don’t think you know what you’re asking for,” Taehyung taunted. There was a shift in his hips and this time, the head of his cock was now pressing against your pussy.

You tilted your head, capturing his lips in an open mouth kiss. Out of habit you tried to wrap your arms around his shoulders, but the Extenders tightened around your wrists. He didn’t even try to coax his tongue in your mouth. He slipped in with ease and you groaned when you realized that you tasted yourself on him. His hands settled on your hips and this time, to your pleasure, he pushed his cock in. The stretch stung but after finally having him in like you wanted all along, it satisfied the ache of being empty that had been growing since this all started a few nights ago.

“Fuck,” Taehyung groaned, knuckles turning white from his grip on your hips. “So different. You’re so warm.”

His cock moved but his hips remained pressed and still against yours, drawing your curiosity to look down. Taehyung had pushed himself balls deep, but you felt his dick changing within you. It was growing thicker, longer, and when he pulled back to thrust back in, you gasped as the new ridges that were along his shaft. He was accommodating himself to fit you perfectly. A one true fit that was made just for you.

The green in his eyes flashed, the tentacles still wrapped around your body tightened to hold you in place as Taehyung’s pace picked up, the ridges rubbing against your inner walls with each stroke became more prominent. You closed your eyes as you pressed back against the pillow, and when there was an eager poke at your lips, your mouth simply opened for the tentacle to slip inside. You were just as eager; the honey flavored slime was addicting to the taste. It was only when there was new wiggling pressure on your clit that you looked down, past the tentacle that was fucking your tits with a newfound passion as it tightened around them to make the space smaller, to see that there was a new Extender rubbing itself on your clit. The pressure was enough to make you moan, legs shaking even in Tae’s grip, but as you watched, it appeared that it didn’t plan to stay there very long. With every thrust from Taehyung, your pussy grew slicker, allowing this appendage to nudge its way into your pussy alongside his dick, all while still rubbing against your clit with each thrust.

Your cry was muffled, the stretch almost becoming overwhelming when more tentacles appeared to cover your body in an attempt to soothe and draw your focus away from the pain. Two more latched themselves on your nipples and by some magic he was able to shape them into mouths that pinched and sucked the same way Taehyung had done earlier. Another two appeared in the palms of your hands with similar ridges to his cock, and not wanting you to be too empty, a thinner tentacle slipped inside your mouth as well. You were completely and utterly stuffed, and had lost count of how many of them there were now with all senses on haywire as your nerves felt like lava with his every touch and yet, somehow, something was still missing.

The headboard thumped against the wall as Taehyung went faster, almost erratic as he chased his own high that he had been holding back from. In the darkness of the bedroom, a green light radiated from Taehyung and the Extenders that were wrapped around you, and when his gaze locked on yours, even his eyes took on the faintest glow. It was otherworldly. For a brief moment, everything slowed around the two of you as the tentacles in your mouth suddenly removed themselves. He swooped down to replace his lips where they had been, his kiss sweet and gentle as he cupped the back of your neck.

A chill racked through your body as the tentacles hugged your body, but your mind was focused on the softness of Taehyung’s lips, and how they made your heart flutter. For a split second, he pulled back to press his forehead against yours while murmuring a foreign word. Despite not knowing what he said, you softly hummed and brushed your nose against his, making him smile. He tried to kiss you again but kept breaking out into a smile that you found yourself unable to resist.

It was when he recaptured your lips in a kiss that the glowing grew brighter, lighting up the room completely. A tingling sensation ran through your body, the temperature skyrocketing as beads of sweat dotted along your skin. Taehyung thrusted one last time, his hips hilting against yours as he reached his release filling you with a green tinted substance that also spurted out of the tentacles, coating your body in goo. You would have been grossed out, but the cum that oozed out of his tentacles along with the slime from earlier was cooling to your feverish skin.

You moaned into the kiss, the Extenders that had curled and twisted around your arms suddenly dropped down to the pillows spent and exhausted. Now free, you were able to tangle your fingers through his hair. Neither of you cared how the goo dripped down your wrists or matted itself in his locks when he leaned down to leave several kisses on your cheek among the sweet words of endearment that he whispered along your skin. This gentle and tenderness was reminiscent of the Taehyung you had known while he was still in his blob form.

All of his Extenders had released you from their grip, simply resting themselves on your bodies before Taehyung called them back. You had gone to kiss him once more when his hips pressed further against yours, his dick still inside you as some of his cum spilled out from around him and down your thigh.

“Shit,” Taehyung murmured, glancing down at where the two of you were still connected.

You softly chuckled. “Is mating season usually this messy?”

He looked back up at you, a boxy smile appearing. “Sorry about that. It’s meant to ensure a successful mating, which entails with the female being pregnant by the end of the season. But it’s never been this pleasurable before.”

Even though you had never met a female Flubber in your life, a sense of pride flashed through you. You weren’t his first apparently, but you were the first to make it feel good at least. “Does that mean you have kids back home?”

“No,” he shifted his weight, lifting an arm to shove his fingers through his hair and off his forehead. “I had only come of age five winters ago, and it’s expected that Flubbers who participate for the first time are not likely to have a successful mating. This would have been my sixth attempt.”

“Sixth attempt?” You asked, leaning your head back against the pillow.

Taehyung carefully sat up. He was mindful this time of his dick keeping his cum inside you, the last thing he wanted to do was risk losing another drop. “When there is a successful mating, the two Flubbers then join in unity until their deaths. If they can produce children the first time, then they’ll be able to have another successful pregnancy next season.”

“So, if I get pregnant, you’ll stay?”

The room fell silent. The glow that had been emanating from Taehyung dimmed now that he was no longer caught up in the moment of his orgasm, but you could still see the way he pressed his lips together. One of the tentacles curled around your arm once more, slightly squeezing you in a gentle manner that reminded you of a hug.

You didn’t want Taehyung to go. Even before tonight, you had enjoyed his company greatly, and if he were to leave, who were you going to finish watching Black Butler with? There wouldn’t be anyone who would spend hours asking about what it was like to be human, who offered help around the house, or would tell you stories about what it was like where he was from. Even going to bed wouldn’t be the same without his check ins, wondering if you had enough blankets, a glass of water on the nightstand, and not so casually reminding you that if you scrolled through your phone until three in the morning again, you’d be cranky when having to go to work the next day.

It wouldn’t be home without Taehyung.

“Actually…” his fingers dug into the fleshy bits of your thighs, his thumb moving in circles as it rubbed some of his cum into the skin. “I was hoping that I could stay. Even if you never got pregnant. If…if that’s okay with you of course.”

Not able to really move, you stroked the length of one of the tentacles still on you, watching Taehyung’s body shiver at the touch. “Nothing would make me happier than that Tae.”

His thumb stopped moving, the green streaks in his eyes once again brightening as he leaned down to capture your lips in a kiss. The Extenders came back to life then, each one slipping underneath your body in a tight hug as Taehyung lifted you off the bed when he stood. Your legs squeezed his waist but he merely laughed.

“What are you doing?” You asked when he carried you to the bathroom. With the help of one of his tentacles, the light flickered on.

He lightly nipped at your collarbone. “If you hadn’t noticed yet darling, I am still lodged inside you, and we are covered in various liquids. We are in desperate need of cleaning ourselves.”

Glancing in the mirror behind Taehyung, you were finally able to see the result of tonight’s love fest. The slime had left a clear green tint that had dried down to your skin, and the release of his cum had even gotten in your hair. Tae had not been lucky either and was fairly covered in the goo himself.

“Besides,” he murmured, recapturing your attention as the water from the shower head suddenly turned on. You however, were focused on the way his eyes darkened and his smile curled into a sneaky grin that sent your heart racing. “Like I said earlier, my body is still adjusting and thinks that it’s mating season here. This is not a one-night occurrence my darling.”

One of his tentacles roamed over your chest, paying particular attention to your breasts as Taehyung stepped into the shower, the hot water only seeming to help his Extenders in their movements. At least with a shower, the result of this round of love making would be easier to clean than your stained and ruined bed sheets.

#btsbookclub #btswriterscollective #kwritersworldnet #starryktown #wkcnet #kconnect #taehyung #bts kim taehyung #bts taehyung #taehyung smut #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fanfiction #taehyung fluff #taehyung fic #bts taehyung fanfiction #bts #bts fanfiction #bts fan fic #bts fandom #bts fan fiction #bts fanfic #alien taehyung au #alien au #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #bangtan sonyeondan fanfiction #bangtan sonyeondan fanfic #bangtan fanfic #taehyung x reader #kim taehyung

[hongism]

belated - c.san (ft. jwy) 18+

↦ pairing: san x reader (ft slight san x reader x wooyoung) ↦ genre: pwp, smut, 18+, non idol au, friends with benefits au ↦ wc: 2.8k ↦ summary: san feels guilty for missing out on wooyoung’s birthday dinner, so he enlists your help in creating the perfect present for wooyoung as a belated gift | part 2 out now ↦ warnings: explicit smut, oral sex: f + m, fingering, filmed sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism mention, subspace mention, dirty talk, cum eating/swallowing, unprotected sex

“And you’re sure this is a good idea?” It’s a bit late for you to be backing out at this point; you and San have both completely stripped to be as naked as the day you were born, and San is fiddling with the tripod near the edge of the bed. He’ll start recording soon, though that isn’t the thing you’re hesitant about. You are more hesitant about San’s promise that Wooyoung will even like this. While you have entertained the thought of fucking Wooyoung on occasion – it’s not like he didn’t get the fucking best genes in the universe alongside San – you never thought that the feeling would be mutual or that he would ever see you in such a light. The two of you have a strictly neutral friendship through San: both having met the man at school and thus become friends through him being your mutual friend. You don’t think it to be the most extreme or strange thing to happen, but still, that doesn’t lessen your surprise the moment San asked if you would be okay with the offer.

Your relationship with San is far different from Wooyoung’s mainly due to the fact that you and San fuck frequently with no strings attached, and as far as you’re aware Wooyoung and San don’t do that in their spare time. Thus you had no issue agreeing with San’s suggestion, which has led you to this beautiful standstill with San’s toned and lean body on full display before you. You must be too enamored by San’s body before you to pay any attention to what he’s saying because moments later, his fingers come before your eyes and snap several times to pull your focus back.

“Hm?”

“I said I’m certain this is a good idea. Wooyoung has entertained the thought of you – well us, for that matter – many times, and he’s admitted it to my face. I’m positive that he’ll love the present.” San brings a finger under your chin and lifts your head a bit so that you can look him in the eye. “Besides you look so fucking gorgeous with my cock in you that I’d have a hard time believing he wouldn’t like it.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you grumble as you try to fight off the sudden surge of embarrassment rushing up your neck and face. San clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

“That’s what I plan to do to you, sweetheart. Not the other way around.”

“Well hurry it along then.” 

San only huffs out a laugh in response this time, but he steps away from where you’re perched on the foot of the bed to go fiddle with the camcorder a bit more. Seconds later, a small red light starts flashing at the edge of your vision, and you do your best not to stare directly at it as San walks back to you. He pushes your thighs open with his knees, slotting himself between your legs with ease, and leans over you to press a wet, open-mouthed kiss to your lips. You greet him like it’s second nature, and it practically is with the amount of times the two of you have done this. The only difference now is that there’s a camera present with you two, but as San’s tongue pushes into your wet cavern, you find yourself quickly forgetting that it’s there. 

“Wanna give him a good show,” San murmurs, slipping away from you and leaving a thin strand of saliva between your lips. 

Before you know it, he has dropped to his knees before you. His hands roam the expanse of your thighs, caressing the soft skin under his fingers, and he spreads you wider open with little resistance on your part. Two fingers sneak further upward and drag over the front of your folds. A bit of wetness has already pooled there, enough to make your core glisten as San pushes your lips open and exposes it to the camera. He’s managed to find the perfect angle to capture the action for the time being, but you know that will quickly change as the two of you lose yourselves in the arousal and sex-driven high. You drape a leg over one of San’s shoulders and lean back on one hand. The other finds purchase in San’s dark hair, combing through the soft locks as he presses closer to your heat. He greets your folds with a single, tentative lick at first, and the instant arch of your back under his tough encourages him to repeat the motion. 

“Look at the camera,” San commands in a soft tone. The words aren’t loud enough to reverberate against your cunt, but it is enough to cause your arousal to heighten, and you don’t waste any time in obeying the command. “Don’t even think about keeping quiet. I want Wooyoung to hear every last sound that comes from your lips.” 

You offer a quick and shaky nod, glancing down at San only once before bringing your gaze back up to the camera. San’s tongue finds your folds again – this time with more force than before – and you keen under his touch, a small moan ripping from your mouth before you can stop it. Your first instinct is to reach up and clap a hand over your mouth, but San hisses against your clit. It’s a warning, and you recognize it as one in an instant, pulling your hand back down to his hair with a bit of hesitation. His deft muscle teases your hole a few times before circling back up to flick over the bead of your clit. Even the slightest touch has you gasping under him, and his hands pressing down hard on your thighs are the only things keeping you firmly planted to the bed, otherwise you would be bucking your hips up into his tongue. It doesn’t keep you from begging for more. It should be shameful how desperate you are for more of his touch already, but the feel of his smooth tongue running over your folds is too good to be thinking about shame right now.

The next sound to fall from your lips is merely a whimper, and it comes out when San sets two fingers against your tight hole. He doesn’t even have to push them in for you to moan. It’s lewd and resonates through the quiet room, accompanied by the dry chuckle that falls from San’s lips, and this time, the sound sends vibrations across your clit. You writhe under his touch, and your elbow buckles under you. You slip backwards, tugging a bit too hard at San’s hair, and he groans from the sharp pull at his locks.

“Fuck, baby girl, if you keep that up, I won’t be able to finish the foreplay like I want to,” San hums. You offer another tug to his hair – an action more meant to tease him than anything else – and San responds by plunging a single finger into your hole. A gasp leaves you at the sudden stretch, which quickly breaks into a drawn-out moan as San sucks gently at your clit. You can’t keep yourself up any longer thanks to the sensation, and moments later, your back hits the mattress with a soft thud. “If you aren’t gonna look at the camera, then you had better tell Wooyoung how much you wish it was his tongue on you and not mine.”

“San,” you whimper, a bit breathless already. San slips a second finger into your tight heat rather than responding with words, and you squirm under the touch, hand tightening around the hair close to his scalp.

“Wrong name, sweetheart,” he teases back after a few seconds of terse silence. You nearly roll your eyes but a third finger pushes in beside the other two in you, and you see stars in the edges of your vision. “Whose fingers do you want in you, hm?”

“Woo – oh shit, Wooyoung’s!” You cry out, thighs squeezing together as San’s fingers brush over your sweet spot. 

“And what do you want him to do to you?” San is straight-up taunting you now, and if you weren’t so full of pent-up arousal, you would probably kick him for being such a brat at the moment. 

“W-Want his cock, I want it so bad.”

“That’s not good enough, baby.” San curls his fingers further, robbing you of the tantalizing sensation in mere seconds, and you whine in protest. You know that it won’t get you anywhere and he fully expects you to follow his orders like you always do, and once glance down at his face between your thighs pushes you further into that sweet headspace you love to be in while he’s fucking you. It doesn’t send you all the way there yet though, but it does cause you to beg.

“I want Wooyoung to f-fuck me hard. I want him to fuck me until I forget my name, I need his cock in me so badly. Just need to be f-filled up and – and fucked into the mattress, please.”

“There we go,” San coos while slipping his fingers out of the tight warmth of your cunt. “Such a good little girl for Wooyoung, aren’t you? Such a shame he can’t be here to give you that now.” San pushes himself up, one hand lingering at your hip and the other that was just between your legs sneaking up to your lips. You take the wet fingers between your lips without waiting to be told, and the taste of your juices on his digits has your body burning with shame. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll fill you up for him. On one condition—” San stretches his fingers in your mouth, spreading your lips wider as your tongue laps over him “—you have to call out his name instead of mine. And if you mess up, then I’ll stop fucking you.” He retracts his hand from your mouth, and you immediately try protesting to his demands once you can speak freely.

“S-San, no, pl-please—”

“No.”

It’s only one word but it hits harder than anything he’s said before tonight, and you sink your teeth into your lip. 

“Will you do as told?”

“Yes… y-yes, I will,” you agree quickly, trying to shroud your face from the camera in your shame. San catches hold of your chin and pulls you forward once more. 

“There’s a good girl. I’m proud of you, sweetheart.” He speaks the words with just enough softness and affection to have you preening under him. His cock brushes through your folds, teasing your hole a few times before he properly aligns himself and sinks into you with a shaky sigh.

“O-Oh, fuck, San,” you moan out before you can stop yourself. San’s member disappears from your heat quicker than you can process it, and you blink dumbly at the man above you in disbelief. 

“Get it right, baby girl. You know whose name to say.”

“Wooyoung,” you mumble, walls clenching around nothing as you remember who and what this is for. San pushes back into you halfway this time, dick rubbing pleasurably against your slick walls, and you have to bite your tongue to keep from calling out his name again. You only release your tongue once he has bottomed out in you. He pauses there to let you adjust to the stretch of his member, chest heaving in an unbalanced rhythm as he tries to catch his breath. “Fuck me, pl-please, fuck me already.” 

Your hands claw desperately at San’s shoulders in attempts to bring him closer to you, but San stays upright, fingers digging sharp crescents into your hips as he pulls out about halfway. His next thrust is so sharp that you feel your whole body slide backward on the bed, a startled moan breaking through your lips, and your hands fall uselessly by your sides. It’s with frantic grasps that you grab for the comforter, and all coherent thought leaves your mind as San begins to fuck into you at an increased rhythm. 

“Sa–Wooyoung. W-Woo, pl-please,” you beg to the thin air above you, barely able to get the right name out in the haze of your pleasure. San chuckles above you. The sound of skin slapping skin fills the air along with the grossly lewd noises coming from your cunt as San thrusts into you. You can hardly think about that though, too focused on chasing your pleasure. Then all of a sudden, San slips a hand from your hip to your cunt, and he drags the pad of his thumb over your clit in small circles. “Fuck, gonna cum, please, I can’t – I can’t—” 

You can’t even finish the sentence thanks to the mind-blowing sensation. San continues his staggered motions, tugging you closer to his body and holding you as close as possible as he approaches his high as well. He must not be expecting you to cum so quickly though because when you do cry out and squeeze hard around his member, walls pulsing as the orgasm ripples through your body, he releases a surprised grunt. His hand returns to your hip so that he can properly fuck you through your orgasm, but he doesn’t opt to cum yet. Instead, he slips out of your fluttering hole and pulls you forward until you’re forced to slip off the edge of the bed. The carpet is rough under your knees but you aren’t in a mindset to complain about it, still a bit dazed from the pleasure. 

“Where do you want it, sweetheart?” San grunts the words out, hand jerking over his slick cock, and you brace yourself on his thighs. You don’t reply verbally, but the way you stick your tongue out and blink up at him through batted eyelashes is enough of an answer. Within seconds, hot ropes of cum spurt from the tip of his cock, lacing your face and tongue with his seed. You flinch under the suddenness of the action. With eyes squeezed tightly shut, you wait for San to finish milking his cum out onto your face. 

What you aren’t expecting, however, is the sudden touch of his lips against yours, cum intermingling between your mouths and dancing over your tongues as he pushes his tongue into your mouth. You greet him with a pleased moan and dig your fingernails deeper into his thighs just to draw one last moan out of him before you’re satisfied. When San pulls back, there’s still a hefty layer of cum on your face, but he doesn’t let you clean up the mess yet, telling you to hold on a second. All you can hear is him shifting things a few feet away, then the heat of his presence returns to you.

“Show off for Woo, baby girl. Show him how pretty you look covered in cum like this.” Even though you can’t see San, you’re certain that he is dangling the camera in front of your face right now, and that thought alone causes you to stick your tongue out again and display the full extent of San’s cum on you. Fingers brush your cheek, collecting a few beads of cum before bringing them to your mouth and fucking the digits into your wet cavern. Once he’s satisfied with the amount of cum he’s pushed between your lips, he pulls back to examine his work. “Open your eyes.”

You do as told in a second, eyes fluttering as you make immediate eye contact with the camcorder. 

“Now wish Woo a happy birthday, sweetheart,” San coos from behind the camera. You can barely make out the twisted smile playing at his lips.

“Happy birthday, Wooyoung,” you say, voice a bit raspy from the burn of the cum in your mouth and throat. 

“And tell him that you hope he can join us next time.”

“I… I hope you can join us next time,” you repeat. A smile overtakes your lips at the pride in San’s expression. He doesn’t say anything else, fiddling a bit with the camera, and the red light stops flickering after a few seconds. “Is that all?”

“That’s it, baby girl,” San hums in response. “You did so well for him.” His thumb finds your chin once more, caressing the skin under a calloused finger. “I’ll get a rag, and we can get you cleaned up. Then we can send him the video and wait anxiously for his response. How does that sound?”

“Perfect,” you murmur back, eyes falling shut as San presses a quick kiss to your forehead. “I can’t wait to see his reaction.”

“Neither can I,” San chuckles before stepping away from you to head for the bathroom. “Neither can I.”

...

↦ a/n: part 2 anyone? jkjkjk unless? okay but also it’s been awhile since i’ve written something like this so i hope you guys enjoy pls let me know what you think also this was written and prepared before my break so please continue to be patient with me as i work on coming back and spending time away to recover and heal!!

#atzinc #kpopuniversenet #kwritersworldnet #kpopscape #starryktown #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez imagine #ateez imagines #ateez drabble #ateez drabbles #ateez scenario #ateez scenarios #san x reader #san smut #san imagine #san imagines #san drabble #san drabbles #wooyoung smut #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung imagine #wooyoung imagines #wooyoung scenario #wooyoung scenarios #wooyoung drabble #wooyoung drabbles

[adorablele]

what about a really fluffy domestic jaemin???? 👀💕

hickey tw (nothing explicit, simply the mention of a hickey)  boyfriend!jaemin, fluff, wc: 400

[10:52 pm] “excuse me!”

you raised your brows at your boyfriend’s exaggerated words as he bumped his hip into yours. shaking your head, you continued to brush your teeth. he smiled widely as he applied toothpaste on his toothbrush.

together, the two of you stood shoulder to shoulder in the bathroom, brushing your teeth. you made eye contact with jaemin in the mirror. he winked in return.

you chuckled, eyes looking down when you felt heat trickling into your cheeks.

“scoot over,” you told him, gently nudging your shoulder into his.

“what?” he hummed, scooting closer to you with a grin full of toothpaste.

“I will spit on you,” you threatened.

“so violent,” he tsked teasingly.

you rolled your eyes and pushed him a bit harder. he complied, giving you space to finish brushing. once you were done in the bathroom you went to go lay down in bed and closed your eyes. only a few seconds later did the bed dip and jaemin pulled you into his arms.

you snuggled closer into his chest.

“goodnight,” you murmured, consciousness already fading away.

“sleep well, my love,” he replied, kissing your forehead. seconds before you entered dream land, you wondered why his lips lingered on your forehead.

when you awoke the next morning, jaemin was already in the bathroom splashing water onto his face.

you yawned a sleepy ‘good morning’ to him while rubbing your eyes. he mumbled the greeting into the towel he was using to wipe his face. following in his footsteps, you too washed your face.

as you applied toothpaste to your toothbrush, you heard jaemin giggle. you started to brush your teeth with a curious glance at your boyfriend through the mirror.

he shrugged, but the amused quirk of his lips did nothing to defuse your suspicion.

you turned your attention back to yourself, mind drifting into nothing before you started focusing on a spot on your forehead—more specifically, on the spot where jaemin had kissed you goodnight.

leaning closer to the mirror, you squinted at the mark.

“is that a hickey?” you asked, toothbrush still in your mouth. you quickly casted your eyes towards jaemin in the mirror and the twinkle in his eyes revealed all you needed to know.

you placed your toothbrush on the sink and raised your brows at your boyfriend doubled over in laughter.

“did you seriously give me a hickey on my forehead?”

#nct-writers #kafenetwork #neowritingsnet #neothestars #starryktown #nctcreations #jaemin fluff #jaemin blurbs #jaemin timestamps #jaemin x reader #nct dream fluff #nct dream timestamps #nct dream blurbs #nct dream scenarios #jaemin scenarios #nct fluff #nct blurbs #nct timestamps #nct scenarios

[kimseokin]

BLACKPINK

#femaleidolsedit #femaleidol #ggnet #kgoddesses #kpopgfxnetwork #blackpinknet #parkchaeyoungnet #starryktown #blackpink #lisa #rosé #jennie #jisoo #gifs* #mine*

[blossom-hwa]

Breathe, and Live - m.list

None of you are ready for the pure amount of fluff in this au, I guarantee it :D This post will be updated as I think of new ideas because this au is by NO means over >:) 

This series is dedicated to @deathbykpopboys​!! Truly, without Sunny, this au wouldn’t be where it is - there are so many scenes here that I never would’ve written with without her ideas and input!

All drabbles are listed in chronological order of the story progression, though I’ll be sure to indicate whichever drabble is the latest when I post a new one :)

Main pairing: Chan x fem!reader (reader is Minho’s sister, however, you can assume they’re adopted/not blood related!)

Side pairings: to be announced :D

Genre: fluff, slight angst, slice of life, single parent!au

Triggers: some cursing, allusions to sex, mentions of death

You and Chan learn, together, to care for the little boys you love.

SKZ Masterlist | Touching Stars (TBZ teacher!au)

Prologue (Chan)

~ Chan is lost, so lost, and sometimes it feels like the walls are caving in. But he’ll make it, he knows. He has to, for the two little boys cradled in his arms who he loves more than anything he has in the world. 

Prologue (MC)

~ You’re angry, terrified, and it feels like the world wants to break you down. But you’ll stay standing, you know. You have to, for the little boy you love with sparkles in his eyes who melts your heart with his smiles. 

On Loving a Child (It’s Something So Beautiful)

~ For all the morning mayhem in your small homes, neither you nor Chan would give up the sweet chaos of laughing children for anything in the world.

Apologies (And Just Maybe, Friendship)

~ A fight between toddlers ends in tears, smiles, and a hint of a blossoming relationship between two parents trying to protect their children from the world.

And the World Feels Like It’s Falling Apart (But I Have You)

~ Chan’s forgotten how it feels to rely so much on someone else, but you remind him that you’re there to share the burden, no matter how heavy it is.

You Look So Lovely, Darling (I’ll Love You for Lifetimes)

~ Chan just wants to give you a picture perfect proposal - why is that so hard?

Spinoff: The Floor is Lava! - NEW

~ One night when Seungmin feels a little lonely, Minho teaches him a game. (Minho-centric)

Spinoff: Catch Me If You Can (You Can) - NEW

~ You decide to record a little experiment with Chan and your boys. 

#inkidz #starryktown #stray kids #stray kids chan #skz #chan #stray kids scenarios #stray kids chan scenarios #skz scenarios #fluff #single parent!au #breathe and live #breathe and live masterlist #scriptura-delirus

[danishmiilk]

𝙜𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚 - lee taeyong. for @lebrookestore || love letters pt.1

type: enemies to lovers!au, highschool!au, childhood friends!au

synopsis: the door closes. a click. a turn of a key in the lock. and you’re locked in the storeroom with lee taeyong, your sworn enemy of... how many years again?

taglist: @lebrookestore ; send a dm or an ask to be added to the taglist for love letters.

wc: 1k

“what?” you hiss angrily at your classmate, who’s currently trying to shove a box of gym equipment into your hands forcefully.

“oh, come on. i’m asking you to go and return the stuff with taeyong— it’s not like i’m asking you to marry him!” doyoung rolls his eyes, flashing the prefect badge pinned to the front of his robes at you, “besides, i have prefect duty. fair you well, my lady y/n!”

“i hate him and we both know it!” he doesn’t even turn at the sound of your voice, merely jogging over to join donghyuck outside the gym and walking away together.

fine. fine, you should’ve known from the beginning that he wouldn't be a good friend. sighing, you pick the box up and set off towards the PE storeroom, totally looking forward to crossing paths with lee taeyong.

your feud with lee taeyong ran deep and ancient— okay, not deep and ancient exactly, but he’d broken your favourite colour pencil back in kindergarten and everything he did after that just got annoying. childish, you knew, but lee taeyong was so perfect and everyone liked him so much that you thought he deserved at least one person who didn’t think the world revolved around him so as to not feed the stretch marks-filled ego of his.

brushing past taeyong without so much as a glance at him, you quickly threw the stray skipping rope in a nearby box and moved to keep the volleyballs on the… top shelf. great.

you sighed, dragging a nearby step-stool over so you could reach the top, but someone’s foot stepped firmly on it, preventing you from moving it. lee taeyong. he wasn’t very tall for a boy himself, but he was still, sadly, taller than you by quite a bit. meaning he didn’t need the stool to reach the top shelf and was just doing this to annoy you.

“can you pass that stool?” you spat through gritted teeth at him, struggling a little with the weight of the box.

taeyong glances down from the top of the stool, stepping down from it and dusting his hands off, “no. i need it.”

“you’re not even using it anymore?” 

he plucks the box neatly from your hands and places it in the right place. you’re not sure how to feel about that. the lee taeyong, sworn enemy of yours for 75% of your life, helping you put away PE equipment? so believable.

“thank you, i guess,” you mumble, making a move for the door.

and speaking of the door, it slams shut with a click, signalling the turn of the key in the lock outside. your day really only gets better. not only did you have to go and put away PE equipment with lee taeyong, you were also locked in the PE storeroom with the aforementioned!

“give him a chance, y/n!” you vaguely hear doyoung’s voice shout infuriatingly from outside the room. what was he even talking about?

turning around to face taeyong, you give him a quizzical glance.

he smiles softly at you, looking shy and a little apprehensive, “hi, i’m lee taeyong, and i hope you can give me a chance.”

you cock your head, “okay? go on.”

“i like you, y/n,” taeyong confesses, “i’ve liked you for quite a long time, but our enemyship got in the way of everything, and i’m sorry i broke that colour pencil of yours back when we were five but i hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me. but you know, y/n, i don’t actually think we’re so different after all, you know? just… just give me a chance, and i promise i’ll show you i can be as good of a boyfriend as i can an enemy.”

he’s fiddling with his hands, looking everywhere except at you, but he chances a glance at you and says slyly, “after all, the reasons for us being enemies were petty and stupid. just like you.”

a disoriented you decided that the issue to be resolved first wasn’t the way your heart fluttered at his confession, but that he’d called you petty and stupid. scoffing, you crossed your arms, “how are you going to be a good boyfriend if you keep calling me petty and stupid?”

with a straight face, taeyong begins to defend his cause. “well, firstly, it’s very cute for your boyfriend to always tease you jokingly and— wait, did you just agree that i can be your boyfriend?” he gasps, pointing a finger at you, “i always knew you were a huge softie who couldn’t resist me!”

you rolled your eyes, feeling heat rush to your face, “what made you come to the conclusion that i would be willing to give you a chance?”

taeyong sidles up to you with a grin, “tell me, y/n, were you just being enemies with me for my attention all these years? was my confession so heartfelt that you couldn’t resist? hmm?”

glaring even harder at him, you placed both palms on his shoulders and pushed him back, “i’m going to hold that confession against you for the rest of your days! but also… i guess you have a point. it’s not like we had legit reasons to hate each other, you know?”

the door swings open to reveal doyoung standing in the doorway, triumphant.

“thank you, y/n! i knew you would agree to give him a chance! you’re such an angel, really, it’s so nice of you to finally relieve the boy of his sad 10+ years of pining— oh my god, what have i just walked in on?” doyoung’s eyes linger on the way your hands are on taeyong’s shoulders and the negligible space between taeyong and the wall, then looks back up with a grin, “i will leave you two alone to do whatever you want to do. don’t worry about me! carry on!”

slamming the door shut again, doyoung screams, “i want your first child to be named after me!”

and then there’s silence again.

grinning at taeyong’s steadily reddening ears and cheeks, you start teasingly in a sing-song voice, “lee taeyong, you’ve been pining after me for ten years?”

“shut up.”

©danishmiilk, 2021.

#cznnet #nctcreations #starryktown #kpopscape #taeyong x reader #taeyong scenarios #taeyong imagines #taeyong fluff #taeyong enemies to lovers #taeyong fanfic #nct fanfic #nct x reader #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct enemies to lovers #nct #nct 127 #nct 2020 #brooke <3 #moots!

[dreamystuffers]

wayv 🐝 nectar 🐝 beyond live

#that first xiaojun gif killed me okay i am deceased u are speaking to my spirit #also i will dedicate this to luvdsc LOL #wayv #wayvnet #nctinc #nctcreations #ultkpop #kconnet #starryktown #nct #nct gif #wayv gif #nct 2020 gif #nct beyond live #nct beyond live gif #hendery #kunhang gif #yangyang #yangyang gif #yukhei #lucas #xuxi #yukhei gif #kun gif #ten gif #ten #dejun gif #sicheng gif #*mine:gifset #tw:flashing

[feliix]

Hush ↠ Han Jisung (18+)

↠ jisung x reader

↠ genre: PWP, smut,

↠ rating: M ↠ word count: 914

↠ warnings: explicit sexual content, dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie, exhibitionism, rough sex, begging, teasing, light degradation, dom!jisung, sub!reader

↠ requested by @hanflix​

↠ A/N: this is pretty unedited I’m so sorry lol

“You have to be quiet,” Jisung whispers, smirk evident on his face as he rests his forehead on yours.

“I’m trying to.”

Another soft whimper slips past your lips as you let your head fall backward and onto his shoulder. Just an innocent night of spooning has lead you here – Jisung fucking into you from behind as you stare out at the empty bed across the room. What’s worrying is that Jeongin could be back any minute now; he went to go shower and get ready for bed not too long ago. It’d be quite a shame if he walked in on you two...

There’s no time to fool around tonight, you don’t have the privilege of taking as long as you’d like to – so it has to be quick. In a house full of people it’s nearly impossible to 

Jisung’s hands grip tightly around your waist as he thrusts into you, his hips colliding with the skin on your ass with each move. One of his legs parts between yours to keep you still from squirming too much. 

“Fuck”

The word draws past your lips before you realize it’s out. You can hear an annoyed huff push out Jisung’s nose in response, “Shhh.”

“Sorry, sorry.” 

Jisung’s lips trail up your neck sensually, making sure to leave small marks in his wake. The pace that he’s kept is slow, steady, making sure that you feel every ridge of his thick cock inside of you with each of his movements. Your mouth is watering as you ache for more, pussy squeezing hard around his erect member as you beg for more.

Anxiety riddles your mind as your orgasm grows near. The longer it takes to finish, the greater the chance that you’ll be walked in on; and that's not something you’re looking forward to tonight. Swallowing thickly, you clench around him, arching your back slightly to let him thrust deeper into you. Jisung responds to your actions with a throaty moan, but the pace he moves remains the same. 

Impatience is beginning to get the best of you. With a harsh breath pushed through gritted teeth you mumble,  “Go faster.”

“What's the rush?” He whispers into your ear, the raspy tone in his voice sending a chill down your spine. In an instant, his movements stop to taunt you. An agitated groan grumbles in the back of your throat at the loss of friction, squeezing your thighs together as hard as you can to make up for it.

“Jeongin’s gonna be back soon, that's the rush.” 

An annoyed sigh leaves Jisung’s lips as his grip tightens around your waist. “Have it your way then,” his voice is harsh, leaving an edgy bite at the end pricking up the hairs on the back of your neck. 

Jisung’s eyes darken with lust as he begins to thrust into you harder, a startled gasp leaving your lips at his sudden movements. In an eager attempt to hold on, your hands quickly scramble to find the bedsheets underneath you. His thrusts are rough, this time knocking the headboard against the wall behind you as the tip of his cock presses against the sensitive spot deep in your core.

“Is this what you wanted, slut?” Jisung’s voice follows another noticeably hard thrust. 

A breathy moan escapes your lips as your eyes slam shut in reaction, “Y-yes.” 

You clench harder around him each time his cock meets your g-spot, instinctively squeezing him as hard as you can. The power of Jisung’s thrusts has your orgasm just out of reach; with each rock of his hips you can feel it growing closer. His brow is furrowed, leaving concentrated lines on his forehead as he focuses on holding you firmly in place. 

“I-I’m close.”

In an instant his hands are wrapping completely around your waist, hugging you tight as he fucks into you feverishly. The knot growing in your stomach is twisting and tightening with each of his thrusts, your teeth clenching together as you brace yourself for your high.

With your eyes slamming shut, a muted shriek leaves your lips as you unravel beside him. The ongoing spams from your cunt send him into overdrive as he plunges into you one final time. Jisung stills inside of you while his heavy breathing pants down the back of your neck. His arms tighten around your waist while white-hot spurts of his cum paint your walls, mixing with your own orgasm. 

It takes a moment for your breath to catch up with you after coming down from your high, along with Jisung whose a panting mess just behind you. “That was good,” he smirks, his head positioned on your shoulder so you can just see him out of your peripherals. 

“Just good?” A snappy tone is evident in your voice as you gain the strength to turn your body over to face him. “If it was just good then-”

“Are you guys done fucking now? Can I come in?” an annoyed voice is followed by repetitive knocks at the bedroom door. 

Your heart races in disbelief, jaw dropping as you meet Jisung’s wide eyes. “I didn’t think we were that loud,” you whisper yell in hopes that Jeongin doesn’t hear you from the other side. Embarrassment is written across both of your features; Jisung’s ears red while your hand moves to cover your gaping mouth.

“Well,” Jisung utters, eyebrows raised while a blush tints his cheeks, “I told you to be quiet.”

‘Hush’ is copyright 2020 @chaangbin​​, all rights reserved. Please do not repost on any platform or translate without permission.

taglist: @xiaojunssmile

#jisung smut #han jisung smut #stray kids smut #kdiner #kwritersworldnet #stayracha #kafenetwork #starryktown #skz x reader #stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfic #jisung x reader #jisung fanfic #han jisung fanfic #jisung scenarios #han jisung x reader #skz jisung #han jisung oneshot #skz smut

[dreamystuffers-archive]

blackpink 💔 lovesick girls 💔 colour palette

#blackpink #blackpinknet #forjennienet #ultkpop #ggnet #femaleidolsedit #starryktown #lisa #rose #jisoo #jennie #lisa gif #rose gif #jisoo gif #jennie gif #blackpink gif #kpop #girl group #lovesick girls #*mine: colour palette #w: flashing #w: guns

[labelneo]

mission accomplished

summary: although ten liked tracking down the bad guys, he also liked tracing his hands down your waist.

pairing: spy!ten x spy!reader/ spy + domestic? au

genre: romance, suggestive, fluff, angst

length: 2.1k words

warnings: poison, guns, wine, death (of the bad guy), reader gets hurt and Ten takes care of them

Ten couldn’t keep his eyes off you. He stood on the other side of the expensive bar as he watched you lean against the bar counter, tucking your hair behind your ear to showcase the earrings your disguise team had given you. He could feel jealousy pooling his stomach when he saw you batting your eyelashes and giving your signature glowing smile - the same one that drove him crazy - to the CEO in front of you; he knew then that he was being very unprofessional. 

But he couldn’t control his emotions when you did your job so enticingly. His job wasn’t to find everything you did captivating, his job was to take criminals down. Looking back at you, he watches as the man that had been standing in front of you moves towards the washroom area. He had worked with you for years now, and he knew your movements like the back of his hand. 

You pull your handbag closer to you as it stands on the counter, opening the bag and pulling out a small glass container with a clear liquid inside. You both had done missions like this a thousand times before. But he sees the surprise cover your face before you can pour the liquid in, confused as to what stopped you. Turning in the direction you were looking at, he sees the man returning to his original spot. He tenses up at the fear of being caught, watching as you place the container behind your bag. He knows you’ll figure something out, but he still worries as he traces his finger over the gun in his inner suit pocket. 

He watches the two of you talk for a couple more minutes, and Ten somehow hears the clock ticking on the other side of the room. You both know that time is running out.

Looking at the man in front of you, you falsely smile at another lame, political joke he had given. There are times where he touches his pocket to grab his phone, making you instinctively reach for the dagger that was wrapped around your thigh. And even though you were trying to do your job, you wish you could look at Ten and how good he looks in his suit, the top two buttons that were open exposing his sculptured collarbones. But you refrain from doing so, knowing it would blow you and Ten’s covers.  

By now, Ten can tell you’re getting antsy as you began to pull on the straps of your perfectly fitted dress as if they were falling. He wonders what he can do to help you, but his mind is drawing blanks. This was entirely up to you. 

Going back to watching you, your figure, your hands as they fix the tie of the man in front of you, and your legs as they cross perfectly on the high chair, he wonders how he gets anything done with you as his partner. The sudden movement of your fingers to where the container stood caught his attention, watching as you remove the top and dip your finger to put the poison on it. Your finger moves to rub the ring of your glass seductively as you keep eye contact with the CEO. Ten is surprised to see you pull out your phone, knowing phones were considered a distraction in your line of work, he then sees his phone light up and reads the words you sent him.

Make a distraction. 

Without even thinking, Ten gets up from his seat and makes his way to the door, making sure to run into another businessman and spill his drink on the other guy’s shirt. The sound makes everyone and the man next to you turn their heads, allowing you to switch your drink with his. While Ten is distracted by the yelling of the other businessman in front of him, you make a sultry movement with your head to guide your subject into a backroom. He nods too excitedly in your opinion, but you continue to guide him deeper into the bar.

After the scene dies down, Ten realizes he had been so distracted that he didn’t know where you had gone, making worry fill his mind. He knows you can take care of yourself, but that doesn’t he couldn’t worry. However, he knows he knows the both of you can’t be seen leaving together, so with slow strides he makes his way out of the building.   

When Ten makes it out of the bar and makes his way to the car that is parked about a block away, he jumps in surprise when he sees the back door of the bar slam open, seeing you make your way out into the dark alley. He knows it's you because of your figure, the shape he knew too well. Staying still in his spot, he watches you run over to him in your heels, grabbing his hand tightly as you guide him further away from the scene.

“You should already be in the car.”

As both of you walk back, Ten notices that you are keeping yourself in the dark part of the walkway, trying your best to not have eye contact with him. Although, Ten did feel something deep towards you, but he had been your friend before anything else had happened, making him stop his walking and look back at you.

“What happened?”

“It’s nothing.”

Of course, both of you knew it wasn’t nothing. But for the sake of not making you uncomfortable, Ten keeps walking back to the car. When both of you get in, you pull two wine glasses and a suit tie out of your handbag.

“We’ve got to get rid of this.”

“Let’s go back to the apartment and change first, then we’ll go get rid of them somewhere.”  

You don’t say anything to Ten, nodding before looking out the window. Ten finds your behavior strange, knowing you liked talking about your assignments when they were completed. You and Ten had been tracking the man down for almost two months now, waiting for the perfect opportunity to corner him. And after spending all that time together, you had caught him tonight.

And it came to no surprise to Ten that he began to grow feelings for you, finding the entire ordeal too domestic for him to not fall for you. You two had to share a house while on the assignment. You would wake him up in the mornings with the breakfast you had made, eating with him as you two talked about anything. Ten isn’t even the type of person who wakes up and has breakfast, but for you, he was willing to do it if it meant spending the mornings talking with you.  

He stops thinking about the scenarios in his mind as he parks into the lot of the apartment you both had been placed in, watching as you quickly opened the passenger door and made your way inside. Ten gets out of the car at the same speed as you. When he goes inside, he sees you pressing the elevator button, your arms hugging your body. He walks up to you before placing his hand on your back, immediately placing a hand on both of your sides as you jump from the sudden contact.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

 If Ten hadn’t been so worried about you, he would be freaking out at the fact that he was holding you so tenderly, his chest pressed against your back as he whispers his question into your ear. And although Ten isn’t able to process the position the two of you are in, you do. It makes you confused at how nervous it’s making you. Years of staring evil men in the face, yet Ten, your partner, was making you nervous. 

When Ten walks into the elevator with you in front of him, he realizes he hasn’t seen your face ever since he lost you from his sight at the bar. 

“Look at me.”

“I can’t.”

With that, the elevator ride is completely silent and the walk to the door is as well. Ten doesn’t want to push you, but when both of you are inside the apartment, he moves quickly to stand in front of you before you can process his movements. He turns you around so your face shines under the light coming from the kitchen, seeing your dainty features he had memorized still intact. He’s not sure what’s wrong, and it isn’t until he looks down to see a long, fresh scratch on your neck that he realizes why you had been trying to hide in the dark. When Ten reaches to touch it, you move away quickly. You’re not sure if you want to speak or not, but knowing Ten would probably bombard you with questions, you decide to speak.

“The poison kicked in and I think he realized what was happening as I tried to leave the room. He-”

You grab the wound on your neck and even as your partner, all Ten can do is watch your back as you talked.

“He grabbed my neck as he was falling, scratched me on his way down. I’m fine, though. I cleaned the skin off his nails. I just...”

You stay silent for a couple of seconds. “I just didn’t expect it. That’s all.”

Ten watches you as you make your way to the bathroom, probably to clean off the wound. When his mind tells him to move instead of just standing there like an idiot, he walks into the bathroom you were in to check on you. He sees you going to the medical drawer, walking over to you, and tenderly taking your hand. 

“Sit on the counter, I’ll clean you up.” Ten knows you like doing things for yourself, which is why he turns around before you can argue with him. He smiles coyly when he hears you huff behind him as he grabs the items to clean your wound. When he turns around, he sees you sitting on the counter, your elbows propped on your thighs as you wait for him. He brings the cotton ball closer to your neck. Knowing that you know it will sting, he doesn’t say anything as he starts to carefully wipe your neck. You hiss and reach out to grab Ten’s side, your touch causing his stomach to flex. Both of you pretend not to notice, too overwhelmed by each other’s presence to say anything anyways.

You had always been the one to care for Ten, cleaning his wounds whenever he got hurt. Ten had never gotten the chance to take care of you like this before, so close that he could see every single one of your eyelashes and how they flutter against your bottom ones when you blinked. He tries not to overthink what is happening while he places a patch over your neck. 

While Ten focuses on your features as he cleans you, you were trying not to focus on the feeling of Ten’s touches on your neck. He was being so gentle, touching you like you would break at any time. And whdn Ten finally patches you up and rubs your thigh when he’s finished, you feel jitteriness takes over you. 

“All done now.” 

By the time he was finished, Ten was once again too overwhelmed by you. He still hasn’t moved away from you even after saying he was finished. You made no attempt to move either, the both of you just staring at each other in the poorly lit bathroom.

“Ten.” You call out to him, making him leave the haze he had been in. “What are we doing?”

Ten isn’t sure what takes over him, he hadn’t drank at the bar and he wasn’t tired, but he just couldn’t spend another day in the same room as you without doing anything about it.

“I don’t know.” Ten leans closer to you, noses touching and when you don’t pull away, he begins to voice his feelings. “I just know that I want you.”

He sees a shy smile form on your face and lifts his hand to cup your cheek, feeling his heart race faster when you lean deeper into his touch. Years of special training, tracking down criminals, and yet he still didn’t know how to act in front of you. Moving his hand from your cheek and guiding it down to your waist, Ten begans to feel euphoria as he realizes his finally gotten the chance to have you this close. 

“Ten? Are you still there?” You giggle when Ten seems to come back down from whatever cloud he had been on. You run a hand through his hair and place your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him in. 

Ten had always been too focused on your actual presence that he had never thought it would feel this good to kiss you. Keeping one hand on your waist, the other one hooks under your leg. His rings are cold, but his kiss is warm and you wonder why you waited so long to kiss him. When the both of you can no longer breathe, you pull away, your lips hovering over his and Ten can feel the nerves in his lips send sparks through his body.

“You know,” you say, looking him in the eyes, “our boss isn’t going to like this.”

Ten rubs his hand up and down your side as he pecks your lips multiple, making you smile and bury your hand into his neck. Ten kiss the top of your head, closing his eyes as he speaks.

“I don’t care. My mission is accomplished.”  

#neothestars #starryktown #nctcreations #ten #ten fluff #nct au #nct fluff #ten x reader #ten scenarios #nct scenarios #ten au #wayv au #wayv fluff #nct #wayv #ten imagines #ten fic #wayv scenarios #nct imagines #wayv imagines #nct fic #wayv fic #ten suggestive #nct x reader #wayv x reader #nct oneshot #wayv oneshot #kpop #ash’s works

[moonbeamsung]

Winter Nights & City Lights

Because nothing says ‘Christmas’ like spending the big day (and not to mention the whole holiday season) in the Big Apple living with your high school friend-turned-roommate, Mark Lee.

member: mark (featuring johnny)

au: roommate!mark x gn!reader, college roommate au, christmas au, ‘the gift of the magi’ au/inspired

word count: 9.5k

genre: fluff, angst, slice of life

warnings: profanity, underage drinking, hangovers, insecurities, mentions of food and drink, money issues, embarrassing moments

author’s note: This fic is close to becoming my favorite that I’ve ever written. It’s also almost twice as long as I planned, not to mention that tumblr crashed right as I tried to post it so here I am, two hours later. Overall I had a blast writing it and I hope you enjoy reading it! Please let me know what you think, too! :,) Happy holidays! <3

taglist: @astroboy-lele​ @kisshim​ @radiorenjun​

network tags: @kpopscape​ @neo-constellations​ @starryktown​ @culture-cafe​ @dreamlab-nct​

“That parade was so cool! I mean, did you see the size of all those balloons? They were huge! I’ve never seen so many people all in one place before,” Mark chatters away like an excited child as you navigate through the crowd that always seems to grow bigger year after year, gathered along the curbs of the New York streets to watch the famed Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.

“How are you not more excited about this?” He questions, and you stifle an amused giggle. “I’ve lived in the city for over a year, Mark. I’ve seen a thing or two.”

“Oh, right. I knew that.” The cold air only accentuates the blush on his face as he remembers that particular detail about you. It isn’t often that it’s demonstrated, however, considering you spend so much time cooped up inside of your shared apartment cramming in university work and studying. There are hardly any opportunities during the year to take in the sights of the concrete jungle you live in the very heart of, but luckily, one of your long-awaited breaks is coming up soon.

Thoughts of Christmas vacation are the only things keeping you going, along with countless cups of steaming hot coffee, as you prepare for exams in just a few weeks, weeks that seem to go by in a flurry of snow.

There’s less than three days left until your first one, but you’re nothing short of drained after pulling so many all-nighters, and you need a break. A breath of fresh air seems like just the cure for your burnout, so you slam your textbook shut and lethargically drag yourself off of the soft comforter you’ve been sitting on for the past two hours. You grimace at the deep imprint left behind.

Trudging through the living area, you knock softly on Mark’s bedroom door. A tired “Come in” sounds from the other side, and you push it open, immediately noticing his disheveled state. Eyes heavy with fatigue and lacking their usual sparkle of youthful innocence, he blinks back at you, “What’s up?”

“You look like you need a break just as much as I do,” you insist. His already-open mouth widens a bit more, “But... our first exam is on Monday, we can’t just—”

“Mark, come on, you’re one of the smartest people in our class. If anyone’s going to pass, it’s you.”

He huffs, “Maybe you have a point.”

“I do have a point, and you know it. A little walk in the park never hurt anyone, right?”

Mark rubs his eyes with the back of his hand, fingers raking through his dark locks before he musters up enough strength to push himself off of his bed and into a standing position.

“I’ll get my jacket.”

Central Park is a sight to behold on its own all year round, but something about the Christmas season makes it even more magical. You and Mark step at the same pace, your paths lined by metal benches blanketed in fresh snow. Even through the many layers of warmth you’re both wearing, the chilly air still nips at your skin. It’s Mark’s first time experiencing the holidays in New York City, and you’re determined to show him everything this real-life winter wonderland has to offer.

The story of how you two came to be roommates in the first place is an extremely lucky one. You met in high school, and had been part of the same group of friends along with six younger boys. Both Canadian, you’d been hoping to get into the same New York college since what felt like forever. The day that you received your acceptance letters in the mail was full of joy and celebration, but not even a week later, Mark got an unexpected scholarship to a local but prestigious university not far from where you lived that he simply couldn’t pass up.

Parting ways after graduation, you had thought you might never see each other again until you got a call from him. It was the day after your last exam of the spring semester in college and you were sitting on your two-person couch, feeling rather lonely. The number seemed too familiar, too good to be true, and scrambling to pick up the phone as it blared throughout your fairly small apartment, you answered with a shaky voice. Mark’s recognizable tone met your ears, and a wide smile met your face. Though he couldn’t see it, he could hear the happiness in your words.

As it turned out, his college had given him the opportunity to transfer to yours for the remainder of his four years, as their programs were closely linked and on similar levels. Graciously, he had accepted, and wanted you to be the first to know.

“So, uh... are you living with anyone?”

The question he dreaded asking more than anything else. Call him cliché, but he had the biggest crush on you in high school, much to his dismay and to the rest of his friends’ excitement. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to like you, but he feared that college could tear a potential relationship apart, regardless of whether or not you went to the same one.

As a result of this, he had never acted on his emotions. But he’s older now, and wiser, which leads him to believe that maybe it wouldn’t be so hard to maintain one, should he ever gain enough courage to ask you out.

“No, actually, I have my own apartment.”

Silence.

“...Are you looking for somewhere to stay?”

“Yes! Yes,” he replied a little too quickly, eager to accept what would hopefully be an invitation from you. He wasn’t disappointed.

“Well, my place isn’t the biggest, but you can live with me if you want to. Plus, we could split the rent between us!”

You’ve always liked Mark. He’s hardworking, kind, and humble, maybe a little too much of all these things for his own good. Even back in high school, you spent endless nights and very early mornings on the phone with him, trying to convince him to go to bed after he refused to stop studying. To reassure him that he did the right thing by ending that friendship, or to insist that he tell the teacher no one worked on the group project, so he did everything himself. You’ve been his shoulder to cry on for years, you’ve seen a side of him that he’s never been brave enough to show anyone else because they expect so much of him.

Mark knows he’s blessed to have had a picture-perfect childhood, a good family, and an education that was rigorous yet rewarding enough to prepare him for his next chapter in life. The pressures that came with being so lucky just got to him sometimes, and they made four years of high school seem more like fourteen.

You, on the other hand, didn’t quite have all the same luxuries that he did, but you still managed. He’s been there for you plenty of times, too. In your opinion, though, he’s the much more vulnerable one of the two of you, mainly to his cumbersome insecurities and shortcomings, however rare those shortcomings may be.

So in your mind, Mark Lee deserves the entire world and then some. The least you can do is share your apartment with him, either until he finds what you’re sure would be a much more desirable place to live, or if he wants to stay with you indefinitely.

What you don’t realize, and will eventually struggle to admit to yourself, is that your admiration for his perseverance and endless generosity is teetering rather precariously on the edge of blossoming into something more than just platonic.

“Sounds good, then. Thanks so much!” He had exclaimed, the sound of his pure excitement and gratefulness bringing a wave of heat to your face, and you were glad he wasn’t there in front of you to see it.

You talked a little bit more for the next few minutes, catching up and enjoying a lighthearted conversation about what you had both been up to. These sessions on the phone began to occur more and more frequently, turning into weekly, and soon daily, affairs. Mark planned to move in a couple weeks before school started again, giving himself some time to settle in and adapt to urban life in general. The calls became a highlight of your summer vacation, and every day without fail, you found yourself waiting to hear the unique ringtone you had set his contact to.

Less than twelve hours before Mark was scheduled to arrive at New York’s largest airport, you were on the phone with him just like always. The clock in your apartment chimed eleven o’clock, and as reluctant as you were to hang up, you knew you should turn in for the night. After all, the sooner you went to sleep, the sooner the morning would come. The morning you would meet him at the airport.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?” His voice was hopeful. Slightly unsteady, but hopeful all the same.

“I guess so. What time does your plane land, again?” You confirmed the time you had scribbled down onto a neon yellow sticky note a few days earlier as he repeated the short string of numbers, nodding to no one in particular. Why did you feel so nervous? It’s just Mark, you had told yourself.

“Have a safe flight!”

He bade you goodnight in return, accidentally throwing in a “sweet dreams” before he could stop himself. When you put your phones down, you were both too busy trying to calm your racing pulses, however, so it didn’t matter. Mark collapsed onto his bed, hand bumping his duffel bag and heaving a sigh. You sank down into the couch cushion, closing your eyes and leaning your head against the back of the furniture. Neither of you could find the strength to stand in those moments, scared that your legs would give in from the unsteadiness of your nerves, your hearts, your emotions.

A singular worry occupied both of your minds from that point on until you greeted him in the JFK airport terminal the next morning, shy smiles on your faces: is it dangerous to enter into the impending situation of living together? Are you really ready to be in such constant close proximity to the object of your affections, however oblivious you might be to them?

Before his brain could talk his heart out of it, Mark had wrapped you in a tight hug, extra thankful for the welcome since you were all he had here, in the city. You wouldn’t have missed his arrival for the world, and you told him so. You also wouldn’t have missed the chance to make him flush a deep but adorable shade of red, reaching from his rounded cheeks all the way to the tips of his ears.

In your long-term rental car, you drove him back to your apartment, enjoying the quiet sounds of surprise and amazement that spilled from his lips, generated by the city’s sights. As you passed underneath towering skyscrapers, navigated bustling avenues, and caught glimpses of world-renowned landmarks that you both had seen only in the movies when you were younger, you just knew Mark’s eyes held their signature sparkle, despite your inability to see the dark brown orbs glimmer with wonder. You kept yours on the road ahead.

His first day was spent unpacking his suitcases and bags full of possessions, one of which was his most prized: an acoustic guitar.

It had been a gift from his parents when he finished the eighth grade, and all throughout high school, he had turned to music as an escape whenever he needed it. As any new musician does, Mark had played around with chords, experimenting and seeing what sounded good, and before you knew it he had composed a song. Another one followed, then another, and by the end of his freshman year he had written enough to fill an entire album if he so wished.

The guitar had heard every note, every lyric, carried every melody from his heart into the world. It had grown to be a part of him, a worldly sliver of his soul in the form of a simple musical instrument that could convey every hope and every dream, every concern or every frustration. Every love confession. Though that wasn’t saying much, since he only had eyes for you. You didn’t know it, but one of those songs was about you. For you.

You and Mark’s circle of friends tried to set you two up one day in the school’s band room after hours, with the excuse that the second-youngest of the group, Chenle, had forgotten his piano sheet music in there. They sent you to retrieve it, which you only agreed to do after being persuaded by the boy’s intimidating but still lovable pout.

With no sheet music in sight, your eyes landed instead on a diligent Mark that appeared to be the only sign of life in the room, plucking away at the strings as the sun set outside. You had sat with him for a while, neglecting your task and listening to him strum gracefully, softly murmuring lyrics that sounded like your name at one point. You didn’t think much of it, though, not making the connection behind the rest of the words coming out of his mouth and accompanying the chords. His love song was left unacknowledged by the subject of it themselves, and that was both the first and last time he ever attempted to confess to you.

He wondered if now that you were sharing an apartment, he would let something slip by accident. What would he do then?

University had other plans, though, and his fears were temporarily relieved. So fortunately and unfortunately, you were so occupied with schoolwork that trying to balance dating, or even mere thoughts of doing so, with all of your other responsibilities would have been exhausting, not to mention impossible.

Snapping out of your memory-induced daze, you realize that you nearly wandered off the path into a deep snowbank, only aware of this fact because Mark catches you by the wrist and pulls you back toward him to walk at his side. His fingers stay curled around your forearm as you approach a famous bridge, stepping to the side and gazing down at the icy waters below, calm and rippling with the chilly breeze.

“What do you want for Christmas?”

You honestly haven’t thought about it yet, so you can’t give Mark a definite answer. The same goes for him, both of you leaning against the brick railing in a comfortable silence.

In Mark’s mind though, he knows what he wants to give you: something to complement your own equivalent of his guitar, a large collection of handwritten letters and notes from your childhood and school days. Sentimental by nature, you had saved every colorful post-it note one of your friends would slip through the narrow slats of your locker, every birthday card received over the years, every thoughtful postcard from someone’s vacation.

Your favorites are undoubtedly the always-awkward Christmas cards that your friends’ families consistently mail out each December, by far the most humorous parts of your growing collection. You always found yourself chuckling at the pictures displayed on the front. Eyes bright with mirth, you would observe their forced smiles and arms slung carelessly over siblings’ shoulders, their eyes flickering between the camera and something going on behind it, probably the family pet getting into trouble across the yard. You pitied the photographers, surely beyond frustrated as they would try to get everyone to stand still for more than five measly seconds. Mouths were clamped shut and for a brief moment, the air was void of complaints of how itchy someone’s sweater was.

Then the camera would snap, capturing an image that was simply “good enough.” They’d plaster it on the card and in a few days, it would magically appear in the mailboxes of relatives and close friends. Grandparents would overlook the uncomfortable expressions and focus instead on how fast the kids were growing up. You didn’t blame them. Even in four years’ worth of cards, so much could change. In between fits of laughter, you’d stare in awe at the way your friends grew into their features, only becoming more handsome with time and some growing so tall that they even towered over their fathers. You always kept the letters they included, too, detailing the highlights of the year that was soon to come to an end by the time they dropped it into a nearby mailbox.

And like he could read your mind, Mark makes an offhand comment right then and there. “My folks texted me the other day to ask for our address. You know, for the Christmas card.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “Shame I couldn’t be there for the family photos this year.”

“Is it really a shame, though?” You prod, tilting your head a bit at the boy. “You always told me you couldn’t stand waiting around for the so-called ‘right lighting’ and all that.”

“Well, I couldn’t, but now that I’m not there I wish I could go back to those days. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, you know?”

“Right,” you sigh, thinking about how the same saying could easily apply to the way you felt about Mark all throughout your first year of university.

You have a box, made of a dark mahogany wood and lined with elegant golden trim, where you keep all of these letters, these handwritten memories and souvenirs from some of the happiest moments in your life. A gift from a past Christmas, your family had your initials engraved onto the front in a loopy cursive font, making it truly unique and utterly irreplaceable. And, you’ll soon come to realize, valuable.

Mark remembers it well, remembers the many times you’ve shown him its contents, remembers how his eyes sometimes land on the delicate container resting beneath the windowsill in your room, sunlight catching the accents. He knows how much those letters mean to you, and he also knows how much you love returning the favor.

That’s why he wants to give you the tools you need to do just that, and to do it well.

You’ve always been one for writing thank-you notes for any and every gift you receive, your parents having ingrained the habit in you since you were very young. Slowly, crayons turned into pencils and lead became ink. To this day you remain unfazed by the increasing amount of yellowing papers residing in the letter box, but the words imprinted on them never quite fade, strong enough to withstand the test of time.

Too many times in high school Mark would find you, hunched over your dining room table in frustration with a stack of letters beside your arm that you deemed “failed” because your handwriting was bad, or something of the sort. Usually it was the other way around, him being the one in need of comfort, but on those days your roles were reversed.

He had always wondered why you didn’t have fancier supplies that were more suited to your task, but he supposes now that maybe it simply wasn’t an option for you and your family. So a stationery set seems like the perfect gift for you this year.

On a similar note, you’ve already decided what you’re getting him: a guitar case. You happened upon a sleek leather one while browsing the website of a popular music store, coincidentally with a location not too far from your apartment.

Now it’s no longer a question of what to get the other, but how. As university students living on your own, money is scarce. Unknowingly, you both contemplate this concern as you walk side by side, returning to the start of the path that you set out on at least a half hour ago.

This stroll of yours was supposed to clear your minds, but why are they racing even more than before?

There’s no time to worry now, though, and for the next week, your thoughts are forced to shift back to the topic of school and midterms and all your academic endeavors.

Your exam week is over before you know it, and the two of you return to your apartment after the last one only to collapse onto your respective beds, beyond exhausted.

The dreary Friday afternoon clearly calls for a nap, but unbeknownst to you, Mark decides to seize the opportunity that has so conveniently presented itself to him: a chance for him to go out and buy your gift without suspicion. He drops his backpack on the carpet next to his dresser and sighs, wondering if what he’s about to do will be worth it. But it’s you, of course it’ll be worth it.

Thus, his next move is done with a heavy heart. He’s been forced by a lack of funds to come to a decision about your gift, and a difficult one at that. The only thing he can think of doing to even come close to affording a nice stationery set is to sell some things in exchange for cash. Namely, the most valuable item he owns: his beloved guitar. He doesn’t really want to, but deep down he knows that a true friendship warrants the occasional sacrifice. He’s done some research on a nearby pawn shop, and however sketchy those kinds of places may seem, it’s his only feasible option at the moment, with just a week left until Christmas Day.

After making sure you’re fast asleep, he not-so-stealthily slips out of your shared flat, his actions far from silent but even so, you don’t wake up. Mark winces at the unintended high volume of pulling the front door shut behind him, sticking his hand into his jeans pocket and relaxing when he feels his keys at the bottom of the fabric compartment. Guitar strung over his shoulder by the flimsy, fraying strap, he sets off.

With his phone in hand and directions to the pawn shop displayed on the screen, he strides through the lobby of the apartment building and pushes the revolving door, stepping onto the busy sidewalk and into the cold winter air. Shoppers crowd the pavement with hands full of department store tote bags, crinkling loudly as they pass by one another. Shoulders knock together and heels click against the concrete, just some of the many sounds of the city that Mark is still growing used to hearing.

A few blocks and several wrong turns later, he finds himself on a quieter street, standing in front of the shop. It’s dimly lit inside and looks almost abandoned, the letters painted on the window chipped and faded from the wear and weather of past years. A soft bell rings when he lets himself in, searching for some sort of employee.

From behind a cluttered shelf a tall man emerges, the shabby name tag pinned to his vest reading “Johnny.” Well, he’s not some shifty-eyed, balding man wearing a muscle shirt stained with grease. New York continues to be full of surprises.

His dark hair looks neat, the jacket he’s wearing free of any wrinkles and face young but chiseled, high cheekbones prominent.

“How can I help you today?” Johnny booms, stepping behind the counter and absentmindedly sifting through some loose change in bottom of the cash register.

Mark gulps, “I’d like to sell something.” Still not entirely sure he wants to do this, he instinctively tugs on the strap resting atop the fabric of his wool jacket.

“Well, you’ve come to the right place,” Johnny assures with a small laugh. “What did you have in mind?”

Taking a deep breath, Mark slides the guitar off his shoulder and holds it near his chest for a moment, before extending his arms out towards the counter.

“A guitar, huh? We don’t see many of these,” the tall man comments. “Are you sure? It seems pretty valuable to you in more ways than one.”

Mark’s fingertips trace the strings for the last time and he decides to just get it over with, before he can change his mind. His hands are shaky as he gently places the instrument down on the counter in front of Johnny, taking a step back once he’s done so. “I don’t have much of a choice. I need the money to buy a gift for my… uh, my friend.”

Johnny raises an eyebrow, “Just a friend? Or a special someone?”

“They are special,” Mark confirms, noncommittal to either title that Johnny suggested.

“They must be if you’re willing to give up something like this for them. Okay, that’ll be…”

Johnny tells him what the guitar is worth, matching the amount with a stack of cash and a few old coins, rusty but still holding their value.

Despite the pain of letting something so meaningful go, a bit of joy creeps into Mark’s heart as he realizes that now he can give you a gift that will hopefully become just as meaningful to you as his guitar was to him.

He thanks Johnny and bids him goodbye, step lighter than when he entered, much to his surprise.

It’s the next day when you and Mark find yourselves getting into the Christmas spirit for the first time this season. After he had returned yesterday, you were still out cold on your bed, so he chose to follow your example and do the same. The both of you had slept the rest of the day and almost the entirety of the following morning away, waking up just before noon.

With a sudden burst of energy you spring up from the sheets, overtaken by your excitement for the nearing holiday as you dig out the artificial Christmas tree you had bought last year from your closet. Sure, it may seem lazy of you, but let’s face it: there was no easy way to find a real one in New York City, let alone lug it down the streets, through an elevator and down a narrow hallway to a door it wouldn’t even fit through.

Mark hears the loud rustling of various decorations as he begins to stir, leisurely getting out of bed and checking one of his dresser drawers to make sure he hadn’t merely dreamed up his shopping adventure of the previous evening. There the stationery set sits, tucked safely at the back of the wooden cabinet.

The bookstore he stopped at on his way back last night had many different options to choose from, so he made sure to get one that both matched your box of letters and reminded him of you, with its color scheme and style. A surge of pride brings a smile to his features, pleased with his choice, and he pushes the drawer shut before joining you in the living area.

Your knees brush as he sits down next to you to help unpack the large but manageable box, taking out the tiers of the tree to eventually stack on top of one another. Working more quickly than usual (and probably necessary, there are six days left after all), you assign Mark to stringing the lights across your small balcony while you finish setting up the tree. You knew you shouldn’t have let him do it alone, though, because when you look over at his progress you find more lights wrapped around his body than the metal railing.

“Do you need a hand?” You question, holding back a laugh at the way the cord restricts his arm movements to the point where he can’t even reach for the handle on the sliding door.

From outside he opens his mouth to reply, but pauses, looking down at himself and the mess he’s made of the lights before meeting your eyes once more. His voice is muffled by the glass, but you hear him shout playfully, “I’m the tree now! We don’t need that one.” He tries to gesture to the one you’re currently decorating, but fails, and this time you aren’t able to contain your amusement.

“Let me help you,” you offer, joining him on the balcony and helping him untangle himself from the glowing strands. “Thanks,” Mark replies, sheepishly rubbing at the back of his neck. With your combined efforts, you manage to thread the string of lights through the railing with little to no mishaps, and both of you continue decking out the apartment with other seasonal items for the next several hours.

At some point during the afternoon one of you decided to connect their phone to a speaker and play some music, all Christmas songs of course. As the classic version of “Jingle Bell Rock” begins to blare throughout the living room, Mark abandons his task momentarily to walk over to you. He extends a hand down to you, sitting on the floor, and you accept the invitation to stand up with a questioning look.

“Dance with me?”

It’s hardly a platonic request, Mark realizes once the words leave his lips, but even so you don’t shy away, glancing down at your feet with a slight trace of bashfulness in the action.

He intertwines your fingers somewhat loosely, placing his non-dominant hand on your waist and beginning to sway, slowly at first but then his movements become more exaggerated, shoulders tilting dramatically to one side after the other and straying from the rhythm of the music. You join Mark in drawing out the jesting movements, losing yourself in laughter and leaning forward to bury your face in his shoulder, the heat of your breath hitting his skin through the thin t-shirt he’s wearing. In one last attempt to keep the joyful smile on your face, he steps back a bit and holds your wrist above your head to twirl you in a circle.

The electric guitar in the song fades as you collapse onto the carpet, recovering from your fit of giggles. The sun has begun to sink in the sky, you can tell by the gold and orange glow that your apartment becomes bathed in as it sets, inching closer to the horizon and eventually becoming hidden by tall skyscrapers in the distance.

Satisfied with your progress so far, you both decide to call it a day, though in truth there aren’t many decorations left to put out. A few stray ornaments and some garlands remain, still packed up in boxes that you would need help reaching. You’re also eager to get your mind off of the way your heart was palpitating as you danced with Mark, your roommate and friend but nothing more, nothing less. You have enough to worry about at the moment, not wanting to add potential feelings for the boy into the mix. Shit, you think, you still need to buy his gift.

“What should we watch?” Mark asks, scrolling through the list of movie choices on the TV screen.

“I don’t really care, anything’s fine.”

His finger presses a button on the remote to select a film at random, the intro playing as you scan the refrigerator shelves for a frozen meal. Hopefully it’s not one of those cheesy holiday romances.

Settling down on the couch a few minutes later, you with the warmed-up container in your lap and Mark holding a cup of ramen noodles, both of you fall into a comfortable chatter about the movie. Thank god it’s a comedy.

Occasionally you find yourself diverting your attention from the harsh display and directing it over to the panes of floor-to-ceiling windows, where you watch more and more lights flicker on in the distance, illuminating the urban landscape as night falls. The view is breathtaking, but so is the way your face softly glows with their warmth, even from blocks away. Not that Mark would ever tell you that, of course.

“I’m going out!” Mark hears shuffling from outside his bedroom the next morning, your voice instantly bringing him to his senses. Curious, he shoots out of bed and flings the door open to find you, one arm stuck through the sleeve of your coat and the other buried in a bag, but it’s not the one you usually bring when you leave the flat. Eyes wide and panicked at the boy’s unexpected appearance, you clutch it to your chest with a visible amount of difficulty, Mark notices.

“Where are you off to?” He squints at the brightness of the living room, the early morning light pouring in through the glass on the far wall.

“...Maybe I can’t tell you,” you respond with a huff, slinging the heavy bag over your shoulder and pulling the rest of your coat on.

“What do you mean, you can’t—oh.”

“Nice going, genius,” you shake your head, feigning disappointment. “It’s not like it’s Christmas this week or anything.”

“My bad, sorry.” Mark winces and rakes a hand through his bedhead, abashed.

“I’ll be back soon, okay?”

With that, you step into the hallway and offer a parting smile over your shoulder, shutting the front door behind you.

At least your being out of the apartment gives Mark time to wrap your gift. All he has to do is figure out how.

Johnny gets a familiar feeling when he sees you enter the pawn shop, fumbling with your things and reluctantly gazing at whatever’s in the tote you’re holding. Are you also about to make an exchange you could potentially regret?

“One second,” you excuse yourself as you step up to the counter, placing the heavy bag down and removing the large item from inside: your letter box, minus its contents. Of course you would never get rid of those, but despite the letters and notes being so special to you, the box they were always kept in is also a significant part of your attachment and the memories you hold dear.

With a thud you set it down, Johnny glancing between the hesitation on your face and the wooden container on the counter in front of him. “Let me guess, you want to exchange this for cash?”

“Yes, sir, that’s exactly what I—” You pause, biting your tongue. “Hold on… Look, I know this is a pawn shop and that’s what people do here, but how are you so sure?”

Johnny’s gut tells him he shouldn’t give away the fact that a boy wearing the very same expression and with the same sense of purpose and determination was in here just two days earlier. So he corrects his mistake with a simple “Lucky guess” and a hearty chuckle.

Without Johnny even asking, you tell him that you’re also looking for some extra cash in order to afford a gift for your “friend,” and you say the word with so much conviction and certainty that it’s almost laughable. The information given to Johnny helps him fully connect the dots in his mind, realizing that each of you are the one the other talked about.

Before handing you the money, Johnny tears off a sheet of paper from a nearby notepad and asks you to fill out your information, most importantly your address. He has to lie a bit, saying it’s for contact purposes, but his heart is in the right place nonetheless. Just in case something goes south (and the sinking feeling in his stomach tells him that it will somehow), doing so gives him an option, even if he doesn’t know what that option might be yet.

“Thank you, Johnny, and Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas!” He returns your wish cheerfully as you push the door open to leave.

“Good luck finding a gift for your ‘friend,’ too.”

You feel heat rise to your cheeks when you see his teasing use of air quotes, but still smile.

On your way back to the apartment Mark texts you and asks you to check the mail, saying he forgot to do so yesterday. When you arrive in the lobby and make your way over to the cluster of mailboxes, you’re instantly shocked to find a large cardboard box shoved into the small cubby with your and Mark’s name on it. You’re already struggling to carry the guitar case you bought for him, so you decide to make a second trip later.

A few moments after stepping out of the elevator, you knock on the door to your apartment, hoping with all your might that Mark won’t actually open it and instead just answer with a “Come in” as he always does. Your wish is, thankfully, granted, but it’s quickly followed by “Wait, wait, wait!” As it happens, he just finished wrapping your gift and needs another minute or two to tuck it away somewhere until the big day arrives. “Can you stay out there until I say?”

“Sure,” you reply, “but I’m going to have to ask you to do the same.”

“How about I stay in my room while you come in and do… whatever you need to?”

“Sounds good.”

With his door closed, Mark hears the front one open and shut as you enter. Trying not to make any noise that would give away the size of the item you just bought, you finally settle for hiding the leather case underneath your bed, concealed by the drapery attached to its frame that hovers just above the floor.

Mark had hastily placed the now-wrapped (though not elegantly so) stationery set back into his dresser, so he’s already out of his room by the time you leave yours. “Any letters or packages?” He questions when he sees you.

“Oh, right!” You snap your fingers, “We do have a package but my hands were full, so I’ll bring it up right now.”

“Eggnog?”

While the box had looked fairly ordinary from the outside, upon opening it and glancing at the return address you learned it was actually anything but that. Mark’s and your parents had sent a holiday care package of sorts, including both of your families’ Christmas cards and a carton of eggnog, along with some small gifts that are meant to be saved for the morning of the 25th. Also mixed in are a few small decorations (not that you need more), some baking supplies complete with a copy of the recipe for the cookies you make every year, and a soft pair of mittens for each of you. He hopes you don’t realize that one of the items is a sprig of mistletoe.

“You don’t like eggnog?” You ask, stunned. Mark shrugs, “I don’t really care for milk but it’s the thought that counts, I guess.”

That evening you and Mark take another stroll, this time choosing to stay on the streets and admire the festively adorned buildings and shops as you pass by them. Admiring Christmas lights at this time of year is nothing new to you and Mark. In fact, when you lived in Canada you would do the same thing. The only difference is that back then, it involved driving through quiet suburban neighborhoods and not ambling through crowded city streets and alleyways on foot.

Snowflakes begin to cascade from the heavens as you make your way back around to the block where you live. Mark sticks his tongue out to catch one of the small crystals, and it immediately melts in his mouth, eliciting a high-pitched laugh from the boy. Snow is also something you both are more than used to by now, having grown up with white Christmases all your lives. It makes you wonder if the holiday season would be the same without it.

“You know what we should do?” Mark turns to you just as you’re about to enter the apartment building again. “Go ice skating at Rockefeller Center.”

“Mark, c’mon, you know stuff like that is overpriced. And besides, I can’t skate to save my life. Remember—”

“That time in sophomore year? You bet I do,” he laughs as he remembers how you clumsily fell not even two seconds after stepping onto the ice with your skates, and then refused to let go of the railing for the rest of the day. The elevator whirs to life, climbing floor after floor with ease.

“Hey,” you offer, “we can still go and watch people skate, I’m sure there’s some place to sit.”

“And we can look at the Christmas tree, too,” Mark adds, eyes brightening at the idea.

“Right. I forget you haven’t seen it in person before.” The cabin doors open with a ding and you step out, your eyes landing on the door to your apartment a few yards away.

When you turn on the TV, Mark becomes mesmerized by the movie that’s playing, since it takes place in NYC and he recognizes so many places from actually being there. He scrambles to remove his jacket and beanie, plopping down onto the couch once they’re safely hooked on the coat rack.

Watching him, you sigh. Would anything really change if you were dating? Assuming your feelings were returned, of course, but you can’t imagine that your relationship would differ much. You certainly wouldn’t go on extravagant dates, or buy expensive gifts for each other, but that’s not what love is about, anyway. With the exception of a few extra hugs and the addition of kisses, along with more forms of physical affection in general (actually, scratch that, Mark’s always been awkward with those kinds of things), you’d still be by each other’s side just like always.

As you sit down next to him and feel an arm wrap around your shoulder, you don’t shrug it off, instead embracing the warm and fuzzy feeling in your heart that you can’t blame on the holiday season this time.

Mark’s glad, too. He’s been working up the courage to do that all day.

Late that night, you quietly tiptoe into the living area, retrieving an old box from your move-in last year that will fit his gift perfectly, and won’t give away what’s inside. Your hands fold and tape the wrapping paper with care, tying a neat ribbon once you’re done. Sure, you had to give up something that meant a lot to you in order to afford Mark’s present, but the gains outweigh the losses. You find comfort in imagining the way his face will surely light up with pure joy on Christmas morning, drifting off to sleep with ease once you’ve hidden the rectangular parcel back underneath your bed.

A few days pass and soon it’s the 23rd, and you join Mark at the railing of the ice rink, of course on the side with solid ground. “Ice is solid ground,” Mark had corrected, but you stood firm in your words. “More like slippery ground, if you ask me.”

Luckily you had been allowed to stand here for free, because god only knows what small, simple thing someone would be charged for in New York. It’s happened to you before, and you’re not even a tourist.

Mark’s dark eyes gaze up at the 75-foot-tall tree in wonder, pupils dilating and reflecting the tens of thousands of bright lights strung through the dark green branches. They seem to sparkle with sheer amazement. Just then someone skates a little too close to the section of railing you’re leaning on, startling Mark out of his LED-induced daze and putting the most adorable look of surprise on his face.

His focus shifts to the people on the ice, wearing sweaters and jackets of every color imaginable, and the sight is still as beautiful as the looming Christmas tree above. He notices some couples, holding onto one another or skating hand-in-hand, and it makes him wonder if that could be you two someday, at a future Christmas, or if it’s an idea absurd enough for an alternate reality.

Mark sees you shiver out of the corner of his eye, and it’s his cue to suggest returning home for the evening. In a very cliché and boyfriend-esque gesture he offers you his jacket, but you decline, insisting that it’s not far and assuring him that you’ll be okay.

Back in your heated flat, you twist open the lid of the eggnog carton and pour a small glass for yourself. “Are you sure you don’t want some?” You call out to Mark from the kitchen, snatching one of the cookies you made the other day and finding a paper plate for the thin shortbread wafer, lined with elegant white icing and dusted with sprinkles.

“I already told you, I don’t like eggnog!”

“Have you even tried it before?” Mark grumbles at your nagging. You really sound like his mom right now.

“No…”

You appear at the other end of the couch, holding out a small cup with just a sip or two of eggnog in it. “Try it. You never know.”

He knows you won’t leave until you see him lift it to his lips for yourself, so he does. Immediately the sweet drink overwhelms his taste buds, and also leaves a slight sting on his tongue.

“What’s in this stuff?” He coughs, nose scrunching a bit from the strong taste. Surprisingly, though, he doesn’t hate it. Following you back to the kitchen, Mark pours a full glass this time, already gulping it down.

“Uh,” you scan the ingredients on the back of the carton once he sets it down on the counter, “milk, cream, sugar, eggs…”

“...whiskey? What the hell?”

“It has alcohol,” Mark slurs, his giggling interrupted by a hiccup. Having never drank before, he’s undeniably a lightweight, and even a little bit can get him wasted almost instantly.

“Mom and Dad must have mixed something up, because they definitely didn’t mean to send us alcoholic eggnog.”

Sure enough, back home in Canada your parents are wondering why they only have the kid-friendly stuff in their fridge.

Mark latches on to you, arm curling lazily around your waist. Great, he’s one of those people that gets clingy when they’re drunk. “Try some,” he whines, nuzzling into your shoulder a little.

“Are you crazy?”

“No one will know,” he laughs, hiccuping again. Giving in to his adorably drunken pout, you take one sip from your original glass but no more, an unpleasant buzz taking over your whole mouth.

Not looking forward to finding a hangover cure on Christmas Eve of all days, you pray that you’ll stay sober enough to take care of the tipsy boy, who’s currently pressing his face into the back of your neck and—shit, did he just kiss you there? You really don’t need this right now.

“Mark, you’re drunk, okay? Stop it,” you caution.

“But I love you,” he murmurs, warm breath fanning your skin, and you want to kick yourself for almost saying it back. Does he even mean it, though? Alcohol makes people say crazy things, things they don’t mean, so you shouldn’t get your hopes up. You unhook his arm from your torso and turn around to push against his chest, frustrated. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He seems to have just remembered something, because he ignores you and instead goes over to where the care package was still sitting, digging into the bottom and pulling out something you hadn’t noticed before. “Look,” Mark declares in a nasal voice, “mistletoe.”

You exasperatedly hang your head, desperate to slam it into the nearest wall. With much difficulty, you eventually manage to get him tucked underneath the blanket, leaving a glass of water on his nightstand for when he wakes up. “Get some sleep,” you say simply.

He tells you goodnight with a fond mumble of your name as you shut the bedroom door behind you. Rubbing your eyes, you yawn before turning off the lights and heading to bed yourself, trying to block out the events that had just taken place.

Your head aches when you wake up the next morning, and you feel like garbage, so you can only imagine how much worse Mark must be doing. Quickly chugging a water bottle, you reluctantly go to knock on his door, hearing a pained groan once you enter. He’s sitting up, chin resting in one hand and the other anchored onto the heavy comforter covering his legs.

“How are you feeling?” The obvious question with an even more obvious answer makes Mark wince. “Awful.”

“Sorry.” It’s silent for a moment, Mark pressing three fingers to his throbbing forehead and you staring aimlessly at the wall. “I knew that eggnog was a bad idea.”

“You were the one that told me to try it!”

“I didn't know it had alcohol in it!”

You sigh, dejected. Something tells Mark that your head isn’t the only thing hurting.

“Hey, I know that look. What’s wrong?” He prods, voice soft and gentle and altogether unlike how it had been last night. You meet his eyes for a moment, about to speak but biting your lip at the last second. Mark’s brain puts two and two together at your expression.

“Oh god, did I say something? Do something?”

“Yeah, actually,” you reply in a huff. “First you kissed my neck, then you told me you loved me, and then you held up a clump of mistletoe and implied that we should kiss underneath it.”

His memories of the previous evening are all a blur, so he truly would have no idea what happened if you hadn’t just said something. Mark knows he screwed up, bad.

You tense when you feel him place his hand over yours, but you don’t snatch it away. After collecting his thoughts, Mark clears his throat.

“Look, I… I know that’s not the best way for you to find out how someone feels about you. But I’m completely sober, and I can tell you that I meant what I said last night.”

“You promise?”

“Promise,” Mark replies.

“...Can you say it again, then?”

He blushes, “That I…?”

You nod, the corners of your lips lifting into a small smile.

“I love you,” Mark tells you for the second time in the last 24 hours, but this time you know you can believe him. The pain of your hangover goes away for a moment as he takes your jaw in his hands and connects your lips, just barely retaining the buzz of the alcohol but not enough to bother you. Slowly you kiss him back, sinking down onto the mattress beside him.

Mark pulls away for air a few seconds later, thumb grazing your cheek lovingly. “Does this mean we’re—”

“Dating? If you want it to, then sure,” your finger traces swirly shapes on the small of his back while you assure him that neither of you need to rush into anything if you aren’t ready.

“I don’t want things to change, though.”

“Who said they have to? I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and we’re already pretty close, you know? Making it ‘official’ doesn’t necessarily mean ‘different,’ so...”

Mark hums in agreement, “You’re right. Okay, I can live with that.”

“And I can’t live another second without food. I’m making breakfast,” you quip, reverting back to the usual banter between you and him.

“I’ll cook the eggs,” Mark insists as you both make your way out of his bedroom and into the kitchen.

“You absolutely will not!”

The night before Christmas had started out unlike any that you’d ever experienced before, with you confronting your now-boyfriend about a drunken love confession the previous day. But now, it’s ending just like every year, with you cozy and curled up in front of the television as the last few segments of the news play.

It’s the coldest Christmas Eve in years. You learned this after the meteorologist had informed viewers of the record only a few minutes earlier, inadvertently planting an idea in Mark’s mind.

Right as you’re about to turn in for the night, setting a plate of decorated cookies and a glass of milk down on the end table (as is tradition in your families, no matter how old you are), Mark holds out his arms like a child might. “Can we…?” He asks in a quiet voice, nervous to finish his sentence.

“Huh?”

The boy inhales sharply, “It’s freezing. Do you wanna sleep in my bed tonight?” His cheeks flush a deep red that’s almost the color of Christmas itself.

You’re slightly taken aback, and then you remember it’s just Mark. “Sure, why not,” you answer with a light shrug and a smile on your face.

“But no funny business,” you inform him as you climb under the sheets together, instantly happy with your choice to join him because double the people means double the body heat. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Mark replies, pecking your lips. His wrist finds the warm skin of your neck and you flinch away.

“Your hands are cold!” He just snickers at your whining.

The two of you fall asleep more quickly than you ever have on Christmas Eve, usually overcome with nerves and excitement, but now, as two college-aged kids, you’re comfortable and not rushing the morning’s arrival at all, content in each other’s arms for the moment.

You feel like you’re 10 years old again as you rush into the living room at 8am the next day, the bright, early morning sky lighting up your entire apartment. At the base of your Christmas tree sits a humble amount of presents, composed of the two that you bought for each other plus the half-dozen small ones from your parents.

You hand Mark one of the cookies from the end table and grab one for yourself, taking a bite of the sweet treat as you sit down and motioning for him to do the same.

“Open yours first,” you say eagerly, referring to your gift for him. Mark shakes his head and points to what he got you, “No, you go first.”

“Fine, we’ll open them at the same time.” Mark nods, satisfied with the compromise and handing you both the packages.

“On three. One, two…”

The final number barely leaves your lips before you both begin tearing into the paper excitedly, Mark reaching for the flaps on the box and you unfolding the tissue paper.

When you each see what the other gifted you with, it’s completely silent, save for the TV playing a Christmas Day special in the background.

He gazes blankly at you, licking his lips as his eyes dart between the guitar case and your expression.

“I appreciate the gift, but I…” Mark pauses, unsure how to tell you this.

You don’t say a word, raising your eyebrows as a signal for him to continue.

“I sold my guitar to pay for your gift,” he breathes.

“You what? Mark, that guitar means everything to you! Why would you do that?”

“Because you’re worth it, of course!”

“Well, I did the same thing,” you break the news with an unamused expression. “I sold my letter box to pay for that case.”

His eyes become impossibly wider at that, nearly bulging out of their sockets. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.”

You groan and lie down on the floor, beyond discouraged. “Let me guess, the pawn shop on 23rd?”

“Yep.”

“Hey, wait a minute.” An idea hits Mark like a rush of cold air. “Maybe we can work out a deal or something.”

“Meaning?”

“We go back and see if we can trade in our new gifts for enough money to get our old things back.”

“One, I doubt it’s that easy, and two, pretty much everything is closed on Christmas Day.” You’re half tempted to laugh because of how ironic this situation is.

Mark sighs, “I guess that makes sense.”

“We can still try, though.”

Sure enough, the pawn shop is dark, even more so than usual, and the door doesn’t budge. A sign taped to the window from the inside confirms your fear: Closed on Christmas. Gloved hands pressed onto the glass, you and Mark admit your defeat. You had been bested by the giving spirit of the holiday season, almost too generous for your own good.

But it’s the message that the day itself stands for after all, for putting aside material value and doing something out of the kindness of your heart just to make someone else happy. That’s what it’s all about, and you and Mark had personally experienced it this year.

So you’re surprised to find two boxes leaning on the wall beside the door to your apartment the next morning, shapes oddly familiar. Could it be?

Just hours earlier, the hallway surveillance cameras caught a tall man striding down the corridor, carrying those exact packages under his arms. In the video he pulls out a scrap of paper and a pen from his coat pocket, scribbling a short message before tucking it underneath the ribbon of the larger parcel and leaving the building just as quickly as he came.

You and Mark’s only clue as to who had returned your items is a messy ‘J’ at the end of the note attached to the box containing his guitar. Exchanging knowing glances, you both grin, squeezing your intertwined hands with the same name in mind.

...So what if Johnny had to take a bit of money out of his own paycheck to cover the cost of the items? Besides, it’s Christmas. And his boss never has to know.

#kpopscape #neo-constellations #starryktown #neoculturecafe #nctmentary.net #nct #nct au #nct fanfic #nct dream #nct 127 #wayv #nct dream fanfic #nct dream scenarios #nct dream au #mark lee fanfic #mark lee fluff #mark lee angst #mark x reader #mark scenarios #mark imagines #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 fanfic #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct oneshot #nct fluff #nct angst #fluff #angst #mark lee oneshot

[silverlightqueen]

part eight - barbie

prom committee📚 - ot8!skz x reader, highschool!au, crack comedy, angst, fluff

warnings: none | rating: pg

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a/n: hope you’re all staying safe, happy and healthy! here’s the eighth instalment of prom committee, my first skz smau! lmk what you guys think so far and hmu if you wanna be on the taglist! x

taglist 💕: @lovelymultiwrites @localjisung @sunoo-luvs @brinnalaine @gdaystays @scriptura-delirus @anothershorthuman @cookielino​ @pinkporto @ijeekies​ @silverlightprincess​

#kwritersworldnet #starryktown #kpopscape #stray kids #skz #stray kids imagine #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #stray kids imagines #stray kids au #stray kids smau #bang chan #lee minho #lee know #seo changbin #hwang hyunjin #han jisung #lee felix #kim seungmin #i.n. #yang jeongin

[hongism]

the little things - k. yeosang

↣ pairing: yeosang x reader; mentioned poly ot8 x reader ↣ genre: sfw, fluff, slight angst, fantasy au, witch ateez au ↣ wc: 2.5k ↣ summary: as it turns out, even you have a breaking point. yeosang is there to pick up the pieces as you fall apart.  ↣ warnings: a lil language, talks of stress and anxiety

If there’s anything for you to pride yourself on, it would typically be your ability to handle any amount of work handed your way. Your shop is not the only one in the area – plenty of people have a need for herbalists and alchemists these days – but that doesn’t keep you from being busy nonetheless. This time of year is the most busy for you. Between holiday orders and people who get sick when the colder weather strikes, you find it quite reasonable to say that you are drowning in your work.

As such, it pulls you away from the coven and your eight lovers more and more with each passing day. It isn’t that you don’t want to see them or that you are attempting to push them out of your life; simply put, you are busy, even if San refuses to believe that each time he comes to visit. Your mood, which is already sour as it is, has been considerably worse today thanks to a visit from said familiar this morning. Not because of anything he did, however; no, you only have yourself to blame for being in such a bad mood because when he fluttered in through the window and shifted on your kitchen counter, he just so happened to shed a few feathers on the floor. Something that isn’t typically a big deal. Something that happens regularly. Something even Seonghwa, a damn hearth witch, doesn’t mind.

Yet apparently, this morning was the straw that broke the camel’s back (it’s you, you’re the camel), and you snapped at San so quickly that the familiar stumbled backward and hit his hand on the knife you left out on the counter. And if that wasn’t bad enough, the man retreated back into his raven form and flew straight out the window before you could even offer to help clean the wound and apologize.

So yeah, today has been an absolute shitshow from start to finish, but you have so many orders on your plate that you can’t even spare two seconds to cry from the pressure of it all. Even midway through the afternoon, you are still laboring over all the concoctions and potions that you have to make despite having worked for well over nine hours already. Half of these orders are not even due until next week, and it would be perfectly reasonable for you to space them out or schedule them differently, but your stomach is in knots at the mere thought of waiting to start them any longer.

You don’t hear the door creak open moments later, too engrossed in the steaming cauldron on your countertop. When there is a whoosh of air and a sudden burst of magic in your entryway, you snap into action, whirling to face the intruder with a metal ladle in hand.

“Yeosang,” you sigh, equal parts exasperated and relieved. The blond stands before you with a gentle smile painting his sharp features, and those cat-like eyes blink several times in your direction, pupils relaxing back into their natural feline slits. Honestly, you should be more confused about the hybrid’s appearance in your home. It is rare for him to leave the premises of the coven’s cottage, and even rarer for him to do so alone, but you push that thought to the back of your mind in favor of returning to your work.

“That’s all the attention you’re gonna give me?” Yeosang quips as you turn away from him. Another sigh slips from your lips without you intending it to, and you have to bite down hard on your tongue to keep from snapping back at him. “Y/n…”

“I’m busy, Yeosang.” Tone flat and biting, not even the sharp pressure of your teeth can keep you from spatting the words over your shoulder. “These orders won’t finish themselves.”

“We’re worried about you, angel.” Yeosang’s presence pushes closer to the kitchen but he doesn’t step any further than that, eyes trailing over your hunched form from the doorframe.

“Yeah, well, save the lecture for later.”

“I’m not here to lecture you.” If you were to glance at Yeosang now, you are certain that you would see his delicate cat ears twitching with annoyance just from his tone of voice. “You know Seonghwa or Hongjoong would be here if that were the case.”

“Surprised they aren’t here given what happened with San this morning.”

“They – just like the rest of us – know that you have a lot going on right now. We can’t fault you for being stressed.”

“You could fault me for being a bitch,” you scoff, dropping your ladle back into the cauldron and stirring its contents to busy yourself.

“I would never claim you to be something you’re not.”

The words are sickeningly sweet – far too sweet compared to what you deserve to hear at the moment. Part of you wishes he would just be cruel and tear into you so that you could actually cry and get the building emotions out of your system.

“So what? You’re just here to distract me from my work and say you’re worried about me?” This time, you actually do see Yeosang’s ears twitch in annoyance because you shift to look over to where he’s standing. He doesn’t let the emotion shine in his eyes though, biting it back in favor of smiling at you.

“Yes.” He folds his lithe arms over his chest and levels you with a determined stare. “That is precisely what I am trying to do.” A step closer. “Is that a problem, Y/n?” Another step towards you. “I can stand here and pester you until you get frustrated enough to kick me out, or—” he paused beside your counter now, slipping around it so that he can be directly across from you “—you can admit that you need a break.”

Your fingers tighten around the handle of your ladle, and it’s certainly leaving the indentations of the metal on your palm but you don’t let up for a second. Yeosang’s gaze searches yours, begging and pleading for some sort of give on your part. You are nothing if not stubborn though, and you absolutely refuse to give in that easily. He’ll have to try harder than that to get you to break. Yeosang seems to realize that in less than a second because he dips around the side of the counter to join you where you’re standing now. You pay him little to no attention this time.

Then, as you are in the midst of reaching for an empty vial, a hand darts out to snatch the vial out of your grasp. You open your mouth to snap at Yeosang for disturbing your work yet again, but he doesn’t give you the opportunity to because he darts behind your back and snakes a hand forward to take the ladle from you as well. It leaves you completely helpless: stuck in the cage that is Yeosang’s arms as he brings them around your shoulders and begins to do your job for you. The heat of his breath is rushing down the back of your neck, the feel of his arms around you is suffocating in its warmth, and the mere gesture of watching him pour the potion into the empty vial nearly causes you to break.

Yeosang hums as he works, a gentle and soft tune that he sings to Wooyoung when trying to get him to fall asleep or to Hongjoong when the man is overworking himself as usual or even to Jongho during their afternoon naps on the couch. Now he gives it to you, humming directly in the shell of your ear as he peaks over your shoulder to make sure he doesn’t spill a drop of the mixture.

“How many do you need filled?” He asks once the first tube is full and sealed with a small cork. You are so overwhelmed in that moment that you can’t even find it in you to respond. Yeosang barely has time to react and set the ladle and vial down safely before you’re reeling on him and shoving your face into his chest. The air leaves his lungs in a huff, then the small clatter of him releasing the ladle into the cauldron resounds behind you. You can’t see a thing past the soft cotton of his tunic.

“S-Shit,” you mutter. The tears are already welling you against your will, and your throat seems to be closing in on itself. Yeosang drapes his arms over your back without needing an explanation, letting you push him back until his tailbone hits the counter behind him. He settles against it without complaint though and tucks his arms further around you until every single one of your senses is completely full of him. He smells of fresh lilacs and lavender, clothes soft on your skin, hands warm in your hair. He doesn’t even need to say a word for you to shatter completely. Within the next two seconds, you are sobbing into his chest, well past your breaking point in terms of stress and anxiety.

This is a first for Yeosang, even if it seems to be something regular for you. When it comes to comfort, Hongjoong or Seonghwa are the first to be at your side to ease your concerns and worries. Yunho after that, then maybe Mingi. But never Yeosang. That just isn’t the type of relationship the two of you share. The dynamics among all of you are different but the same, all ending in a place called love. And even if this is not something Yeosang typically does for you, you feel the love and warmth in it nonetheless.

His hold on you doesn’t let up for a second, and he simply lets you cry against his body for quite some time before he adjusts your position and pulls you away from the kitchen. You pay no attention to where he’s taking you, only that he guiding you away from work, but the intensity of your sobs would keep you from working anyway. All you can do is let him tug you along until you feel him drag you down to the couch, pulling your body over his and tucking you under his arms once more.

“Just let it all out, angel,” he murmurs, lips dancing over the column of your neck. “I’m here, you don’t have to suffer alone.”

“I-It’s just so much,” you sob. The waterworks are already out and ready to play, but you were hesitant to open up about the causes of your stress until Yeosang whispered those words that seemed to give you permission.

“I know it is, love. You have so much on your plate. So much to deal with.”

“It’s too – too much. I c-can’t do it all.”

“You can, Y/n. You can do it. You know why?” Yeosang shifts his head up a bit to press a warm kiss to your temple. “You always handle everything with such grace and determination. You work so hard and get so little in return, but I promise you – Y/n, I promise you that your efforts do not go unnoticed. It may feel like you are doing this all for nothing, but it will all pay off in the end. Your hard work will pay off.”

“It doesn’t feel like it will. I feel like I’m not good enough, not smart enough, not talented enough… I just f-feel like I’m not enough.”

Yeosang pulls back upon hearing those words, hands reaching up to cradle your face and look you in the eye. His gaze is absolutely unreadable, and you don’t have it in you to make an effort to figure out what emotion he is harboring there. His words do more than enough to explain it to you.

“No matter what you do, what paths you travel down, what choices you make in life, you are enough. You are smart enough, talented enough, good enough. You are capable and powerful in so many ways, even if you can’t see it yourself. And you always have at least one person at your back, cheering you on and rooting for you when you can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel any longer. Because no matter what, you deserve to feel like you’re enough. Everyone deserves that, and I know you can see that in others yet when it comes to yourself, you feel like it’s selfish to give yourself that much. It’s not selfish or egotistical or wrong to let yourself be enough. The work… it might be a lot now, it might be hard now, it might be stressful now. That doesn’t mean it will always be this way though. It will get better in time, and you will come out of this stronger than before, stronger than ever. I know this is true because I know your determination and drive to be good at everything you do. Sometimes we have days where we can’t even get out of bed because we’re so overwhelmed by everything. And even if you have those days, it doesn’t mean that you are any less than what you are. And what you are is enough.”

Your tears are spilling over the fingers that trace over your cheeks in softly-traced patterns. Your lip is wet with the tears, and you are quite positive that you look an absolute mess and a wreck, but Yeosang doesn’t seem to mind one bit. It’s with a gentle, barely-there pressure that he lands a kiss on your lips. Merely a gesture meant to provide more physical comfort, but you bask in it still, sinking your mouth deeper atop his until your tongues entangle in his mouth. You only part when you are completely out of breath and unable to stay connected any longer. Rather than pulling you down for another kiss, Yeosang simply pushes your head back down to his chest and lets you rest there as cries continue to leave you.

And he continues to smile at you. Coaxes tear after tear out of your body, and his humming resumes. He presses his hand to your hair without a care in the world about the way your tears soak through his shirt. The humming blossoms into sweetly sung words, ones that push warmth and comfort through your whole body.

“When it’s overwhelming, hold on tight. I’ll be here, don’t forget it ‘cause in life sometimes we need a helping hand. You’ll be alright. Just take it slow. One day at a time.”

...

a/n: kira i know you already finished school but i wrote this with you in mind bc i know how stressful these past few days have been for you bc of the end of the semester :c @felixity​ i love u!!! and for everyone who is having a hard or stressful time because of school! hang in there! you’ve got this! im rooting for you and wishing the best for you <3 take care of yourselves and i hope this little fic can provide some comfort for you 💗

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