#ncitygirls
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Hyunjin fic recs
stray kids | Hwang Hyunjin
masterlist
[ updated 230805 ]
Innocent mornings { s } 1,3k @sailorhyunjinz
two types of fireworks { tangled! au, historical! au; a,f } 21,2k @chanluster
when you find a notorious thief wounded within the woods you wondered, you heal him, not realising that the same man will lead you to your destination, and the few feelings you’ll develop along the way.
enough for you series { idol au; a, f } @lotus-dly
You and Hyunjin have been keeping your relationship a secret for awhile. However, when Hyunjin finally decides to come clean to his members about the two of you, you overhear a conversation that you weren’t supposed to, leaving you questioning not only your relationship with Hyunjin but your worth as well.
experienced (series) { f2l; f, s, a } @/ballelino
Dressing Down { f2l, a, s, f } 5,8k @jl-micasea-fics
A shopping trip with the gloriously attractive, delightfully oblivious man you've lusted after since time began? During a particularly lengthy dry spell? Definitely not a recipe for disaster.
hotter than ur ex, better than ur next {emo! hyunjin; f, s } @i4lixie
[ 1 ]
hyunjin was only supposed to be a fleeting moment in your life between lovers, but his fierce attitude and your greed for more of him makes him stay much longer.
[ 2 ]
after a recent encounter with your fuckbuddy, you start to turn back on the one rule you gave him before this relationship even started. you wouldn’t fall in love, and neither would be. too bad you can’t keep your own damn word.
Tulips and Lilac { f, s } 7,3k @drewexe
the fateful party is already in the past, but you and hyunjin have a new game to play; and he's dead set on winning this one, even though he's perhaps already won
the small things { f } @/i4lixie
just in case { office au; f, a, s } 8.6k @the7thcrow
your valentine’s day plans of bad cable and a bottle of wine take an unexpected turn, as when leaving the office you witness a completely different side of your least favourite coworker, hwang hyunjin. perhaps valentine’s day really does hold a little bit of magic.
[8:55 a.m.] hhj { f, a } @/lotus-dly
Pretty please { sub hyunjin; s } 1,9k @ohmysparkle
Tattoo artist!Hyunjin @slytherinbangchan
College Tutor { nerd hyunjin; f, s } @/slytherinbangchan
party cup { idiots to lovers; f } 12,2k @changbeanie
you have one brain cell, and it’s heart-shaped for hwang hyunjin; or alternatively, hwang hyunjin hates parties but likes you.
Supposedly Date Night { insecurities; a, f } 1,7k @seungly
vampire drabble { f, s } @j-onecult
The (almost) Perfect Date { f } 3,5k @hanqu0kka
Due to his busy schedule, you and Hyunjin weren't having enough time to spend together. To change that, Hyunjin planned out the perfect date for you, too bad you were extremely sick and refused to tell him.
#Scream For Me { sub jinnie; s } 3k @sugar-petals
the fwb rules { fwb; s } 4,5k @etherealeeknow
Breakfast in Bed { s } 3,5 k (deleted ?)
forgive { royal au; f, s, a } 4,1k @ncitygirls
#006DB0 | HWANG HYUNJIN. { a, f } 1,3k @hanibalistic
the valentine trials { f2l; a, f } 17,3k ao3link
to be alone { f2l; a, s } 5,7k @straylightdream
She couldn’t sleep at night, and her loneliness always led to her calling the same person to share a bed with her.
[20.30] { greaser au, fwb2l; f, s, a } 4,1k @lettersfromaphrodite
[8.03] { vampire au, medieval, f, s } 4.6k @/lettersfromaphrodite
the study of relationships. { roomates au, f2l; a ,f } 15k @huenjin
college team's volleyball captain and your roommate-cum-best friend, hwang hyunjin argues with you over guys being better than girls in relationships to help you out of one. or in which hyunjin is in love with you for years now and he finally decides that maybe he doesn't want that best friend tag anymore.
inexperienced { f, s } 2,2k @/ballelino
the distance between you and i { f } @wishingyouback
mind your business! { f } 1,2k @rachalixie
the aftermath of the crew finding out about yours and hyunjin’s unintentional secret relationship, complete with domestic fluff at the end.
Flames { fantasy, assassin au, e2l; c } 3,7k @fizzydrink698
You frown. “Is it so hard to believe I find you attractive?”
Hyunjin raises an eyebrow, eyeing you with pure scepticism. “You’ve tried to kill me. Multiple times.”
“I fail to see how one negates the other,” you reply with a shrug.
The differences between us { a, f } @/lotus-dly
warmth { f } 1,8 k @inkybird
boyfriend habits { f } @yyx2
vampire hyunjin { f } @ppiri-bahng
relax with me { f, s } 3,4k @koorminii
It’s your turn to make noises now, it seems, because Hyunjin drags a moan out of you so loud that you’re worried the neighbours have heard. Your cheeks are red for a whole new reason now, and the fact that Hyunjin is yanking at the collar of your dress doesn’t help. You let him, you don’t care, you want to give Hyunjin everything, anything.
scarlet red { f, s } 6,2k @abiaswreck
A young talented artist has caught your attention. Now you want nothing more than for him to be successful. (Non idol au)
this is me trying { a, f } 1,4k
SATURN { a, f, s } @/seospicybin
Realized that Hyunjin’s true love will always be his art, you decided to move on with your life to only cross path with him once more
three in one { s } 4,7k @strayed-quokka
hyunjin finds it depressing to hear that you’ve never had an orgasm. he’s determined to give you three in one night. at least.
come here { barista yn, e2l; a, s, f } 4,6k @hh0320
cherry chapstick { f2l; f, s } 8,9k @angelwonie
being hopelessly in love with your best friend is bad enough in itself, but when you decide to spontaneously kiss him at a party and he kisses you back — that's when it gets complicated. or maybe it's not complicated at all.
massage { s } 2,2k @sluttywonwoo
( a lack of ) decorum { art teacher!hyune; f } 1,5k @wooahaes
comfy and cozy { whiny!hyunjin; f }
no nut november ( loser 3# ) { s,f } 4,2k @gimmeurtmi
sky prince { f, s } 3,7k @strayngesparkyds
glossy {possessive gf; s } @bitsauur
sleepy { f } @mmingooo
fic-mas: day 12 { f2l; s, f, a ] 3,6k @hardstraykidshours
getting snowed in with your best friend takes an unexpected turn.
7:30PM { sick hyune; f, a } @yrhome
Underneath the tree { f } 0,7k @lino-jagiyaa
christmas didn't feel like it used to this year, so your boyfriend hyunjin came over to spend the day with you, hoping to cheer you up a little.
sick hyune { f } @/hwajin
UNDERTONES { perfume maker/chef, mutual pining; a, s ,f } 13,3k @/cb97percent
He dedicated his life to scents. You dedicated yours to taste. Your paths were bound to cross at some point.
like a magnet { s } 3,7k @/gimmeurtmi
Bubblegum Bitch { neighbours2l; s } 3,5k @j-0ne25
Hyunjin is severely annoyed about all of your packages being delivered to his apartment because you’re too busy getting them yourself. But maybe an honest apology, some freshly baked cookies and mulled wine can ease the tension between your neighbour and you
the art of love { f } @/ppiri-bahng
MANIAC #4: Hwang Hyunjin { Artist Hyune, Psychological, Thriller; a, s } 13,3k @/cb97percent
PRETTY BOY { proposal; f } 0,971k @/bbujiikseu-archived
hyunjin is planning to propose to you. little does he know you’re also planning to propose to him.
indoors picnic { sulky bf; f } @/inniejeonginnie
when your meticulously planned date gets ruined by the rain, it's up to you to cheer your sulky boyfriend up.
It Is Your Birthday Not Mine { s, f } 4,1k @athenathesharkwrites ites
18:08 { f, comfort, c } 0,3k @softiejoon
hyunjin decides it’s a good idea to eat his birthday cake raw
bits of stardusts. { historical, strangers2l; f, a } 16,8k @jeonginks ao3link
00:00 { ex mafia } @/ppiri-bahng
when you are kidnapped hyunjin has no choice but to reveal the version of himself he has spent years trying to escape from
CHARCOAL BLUES IN C MINOR { slow burn, mutual pining; s, a } 23k @cb97percent
Charcoal and straw papers. Piano keys and sheet music. A lighthouse and a speakeasy. Prestige and the lack thereof.
9:40am { f, hungover & dramatic hyune } 0,8k @skzfairyy
Boyfie privileges { f } @jinhyun
cake pop { f } @inniejeonginnie
you graduated college!! and now all your boyfriend wants is to show you how proud he is of you, but things don't go the way he planned
“oh, god.” { s } @/ppiri-bahng
Series
Moonrise { historical au, arranged marriage au, s, f } 12,6k @/healinghyunjin
Seeing your future husband for the first time, you knew immediately, even from afar, that the rumors hadn’t even begun to do him justice.
Moonlight { historical au, arranged marriage au; s, f, } 6,5k
a throne of roses | hwang hyunjin { royal au; f, a } 16,7k @scxrlettwxtches
when the king that conquered your country, hwang hyunjin, arranged a marriage for the two of you, not once did you expect to feel any emotion except hatred and bitterness to blossom between you. will you stand to hate your enemy until the end, or will you realize that the cold-hearted ruler is not as cruel as he seemed?
A crown of thorns 14k
a few years have passed since your tumultuous beginnings with the enemy king, hwang hyunjin, and to everyone’s astonishment, your marriage flourished with an abundance of love. however, this was not yet a happy ever after, and danger still lurks within every corner of your peaceful kingdom.
VESPER @/seospicybin
One dance { s } 6,3k
If it wasn’t because of your support, Hyunjin would have been given up to be a painter. One day, he finally get to sold one of his paintings and he decides to celebrate it by getting himself a lap dance.
Part 1 { s,f } 11,2k
You've been praying every night for someone like Hyunjin to come and when he finally did, you doubt that he would approve your job as a stripper.
Part 2 { s,f } 11,3k
Is this love ? { pack au,+ Felix ; a,s,f }
1.
2.
3.
Dangerous { mafia boss hyune, e2l; f, s, a } 4,1k @minghaoyoudoin
Deal 6k
Deadly 9,1k
Damaged 9,2k
Darling 4,3k
HOTEL VERMILION { hospitality au, mystery, crime; s } @/cb97percent
Chapter 1 { s } 6,6k
Note: please let me know if the links are not working ! I’ll try to fix them as soon as possible ^^
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forgive - hyunjin x f reader
angst, fluff, smut, royal au, 4.1k
to die just as one graduates to motherhood is the tragic fate of countless women of your time. though there is no shame in falling victim to eve’s curse, one does feels a deserving sense of pride in their ability to look the devil in the eye and turn one’s cheek. to crawl through the forest of death and drag oneself towards the light. many are denied the privilege of survival. living is a sign from the heavens that perhaps there is a reason for such trials. that strife is a lesson in one’s journey, a meaning to life.
but to die before bearing your husband a son is a fate you would readily accept in place of the dark nothing you nearly surrendered to. the thought drifts into your mind the moment your greatest trial and grandest reward shifts in your arms, your daughter’s wails slowly rising in pitch and frequency as you smile loftily at her bundled form in your lap. she sings a song most would call unbearable. the screech so shrill, it pierces through even the most impenetrable guard. but never through you. you could continue to find peace in the deafening sound had it not been for your husband. your dear, sweet husband.
your king.
your king, whose presence thus far escaped you. that is until he asked, just a decibel louder than the wailing infant, “could you please settle her, sweet?”
“oh,” you glance at his rigid form, across your living quarters, to find his pretty scowl trained on his heir, only softening when his eyes meet the familiar orbs of his queen. “my apologies, hyunjin. is she distracting you?”
“no,” he breathes, allowing his head to fall back on the loveseat, his sculpted cheek puffs. “it’s just annoying.”
“it?” your eyes quickly return to him, only to be met by the back of his morning paper. “i do hope you are referring to the sound itself and not to your child, my love?”
“does it matter?” he sighs, realising moments too late that the room has stilled. “my dear, i did not mean to offend.’
“of course not, your highness,” ah, ‘your highness’. you call on the title in the times you wish to hurt him most. “she is but a child, of course you meant her no offense. i ask for your mercy, sire.”
“i sense hostility in you.”
“shall I call on a nurse for you, your grace?” he wonders for a second what the reason could be before you readily come to his aid. “it is most unlike you to use sense of any kind.”
“that was out of turn-”
“me? my king, you believe it is i who is out of turn?” hyunjin knows there is no answer to such a question. because yes would present grounds for annulment and no would mean he is wrong. and kings cannot be found in the wrong. “not the new father who refers to his daughter as ‘it’? of course it is not he who is speaking out of turn, not when he is a king.
“when he is a man.”
“ah, ‘men are the source of all the world’s ailments’, must we hear excerpts from your manifesto again, my love? it is only noon,” he assumes you hear only humour in his tone and decides to take it a step further. “is it in your plans to fill the house of hwang with women just to spite me?”
“oh,” you breathe, smiling softly as he watches, “is it a son you desire, hyunjin? is that what you want?” his eyes squint as he watches his love rise to place his only heir in the cot before you glide over to him, sweetness vanishing from your eyes as you succumb to your wrath. “you want a son, king hyunjin? then give me one.”
“leave us.” the servants standing by flee the room, quick to abandon a maid who halts as hyunjin blocks her path. “take the child.”
she takes a hurried step towards your child before she is stopped once more. “take my child and i will take your hand.” the poor girl is quick to abandon her king’s direct order before fleeing the scene, closing the door as she departs.
a biting silence takes the place of the bodies that once filled the chamber, thickening every corner of the room. minutes pass before hyunjin realises you have no further interest in him. “if it were not for the fact my heart beats for you, my beloved, i too would take my leave.”
“your heart? is that what beats in your chest, hyunjin? a heart?” he scoffs, unbothered by the deflection masked by your jab. “kings are meant to rule, not jest. do not humour me.”
“was your tea cup mistaken for a bedpan?”
“i almost died, jinnie!” he withers as you tremble, your eyes misting as you try to find someone resembling your beloved in the man sat across from you. “i almost lost my life bearing you the heir you prayed for, only for you to treat her with the same regard one does a child born in illegitimacy.” he wishes to deny it, and you see it too. but your eyes are alight and hyunjin swears he sees his end in them. “she is your child, hyunjin. and should she be your only, she will wear your crown with pride and rule as well as any boy ever could.”
“i know that.” your scoff stung like a strike to the cheek and winds him like a blow to the gut. “i do. y/n, i swear it to you.”
“then perhaps you should act like it.” he finally sees what fuels your rage and rests behind your eyes: disappointment. “you cannot love me and not my kin, jin. i won’t allow it.”
“my love,” he reaches for you but you repel, moving instead to the babbling baby. “you mistake my desire for a son as a lack of joy for my daughter.” pulling your hands from the sides of the cot, he dwarfs them with his own. “i love her with everything i have in me. i swear.”
“had my father received me as you did our child, i would not believe that to be the case.”
“forgive me, my love.” you’re quick to cast your gaze elsewhere, ignoring his puppy eyed plea. “i will pray the heavens take mercy on me, but i need you to first. please believe me when i say i love her. i do. she is half of the greatest woman to ever walk this kingdom, i worship her.”
“then why? why the cold shoulder? why treat her this way?” he suddenly finds himself unable to answer, opting instead to rock the baby, basking in her glow. with a soft sigh, you raise a hand to his cheek, offering him reprieve as he burrows into your palm. “what troubles you?”
“nothing, my love.” your disbelieving gaze sends his shoulders south, his whole frame sagging. “it’s just my dealings with the courts.” of course. the courts. “i spent every night bowed in ceaseless prayer. i prayed for your health, for your life, for our child. i prayed until bruises formed on my knees, my love. and still i prayed. but as i prayed for my family, they prayed only for my successor, for a boy.” though you find it impossible, he manages to lower himself further. folding himself into you, almost in two, hiding his long face from view. “once I caught wind of their talks with the lord, i condemned it. i condemned any prayer against my wishes but the court can do as they please in their solitude and i know we do not rule on fear but after her birth, for the first time in my life? i wished we did.” it was inexplicable, the difficulty you had beholding an enraged hyunjin, the skin curving around his knuckles and jaw as they tightened with every word he uttered, your heart tightening in kind. “i wanted to make heads roll, to end them for the disregard they paid my child, my family, my wife.” it starts to make sense now, his grinding teeth and red rimmed eyes. his late and sleepless nights. the nights hypnos granted him even a slither of reprieve were spent clinging to you, a cold sweat soaking the sheets, puzzling you beyond belief. it all makes sense. “the courts have filled me with doubt. they warned of foreign enemies who would hear of our heir, of our girl. that they would see her as a sign we are weak, that we are lesser.”
“but how can they speak in such a way? we are ahead of such things.”
“my love, you must see past the likes of lord kim and baron han. the rest of the men in my court are old, and stuck in old ways. our nation has not seen a queen on the throne since the likes of my widowed great, great grandmother.” his hands cup your face, bleary eyes blinking back the tears his heavy words summoned. “i love you, y/n. and i love her. all i want is for you both to be safe. but i live in constant fear that i cannot keep you safe with enemies outside our walls and evidently within.”
“hyunjin, my love,” he settles at the soft spoken call of his name, the loving address soothing his forlorn heart. “i will burn the court to the ground before they bring harm to my kin. or to you.” it is not unlike you to let your anger consume you. in fact, it is but a facet of what made him fall in love with you. what continues to bother him is the fact he was not the first to make such a bold promise. “my love?”
“fret not, my queen,” his nimble hands gather his daughter from her cot, his lips pulling in a soft grin as the child gargles, reaching up for him. “it is just, with my brains and your ferocity, i believe this hwang might be the greatest queen- no, ruler levanter has ever seen.”
“forgive me, my love,” the apology fills the space to his left, from where your temple rests on his shoulder, fingers toying with his undershirt. “but you do not suggest that this girl will be inheriting her brains from her father-”
“watch your mouth.”
“watch it for me.”
“careful,” he warns, dropping his lips to yours for a brief peck before withdrawing but an inch, “i might just give you that son you asked for.”
“careful, or i might just let you.” your rebuttal has him fanning your lips with a breathless chortle, urging you to rise to the tips of your toes and connect your lips to his once more. when you withdraw, he follows, resting his forehead on yours, smiling softly as your eyes meet. your voice is barely a whisper as you enquire, “what do we do now, my love?”
“now, i will handle the courts,” huffing, hyunjin places a kiss to the crown of his daughter’s head, smiling as he does. “i am afraid you will just have to handle everything else.” the regret in his words do not match the smirk on his lips, though he confesses, “i do not envy you, my love.” placing the baby in the cot once more, he pulls you into his chest, resting his cheek at the uppermost point on your head. “but i will keep you both safe. i put my life on it-”
“sire,” you warn, leaning up to kiss his neck. “your life is no longer yours to wager.”
“is that so?” hyunjin only grins at your assured affirmation. “my queen, is there anything that is mine in this kingdom?”
“me.” even after all these years, hyunjin is undone by you. from your matter of fact utterance, a breathless admission of submission to your glowy eyed gaze, eyes shining with pure adoration. “i belong to you.”
“you do?” he sighs when you nod, the small bounce of your head forcing his own head up and down. his eyes and hands slowly trail down your arms stilling at your fingers. slipping his digits between yours, he raises them to his pouted lips, slowly pressing each one with a kiss so soft and so sweet, you nearly jump as he speaks. “and these? do these belong to me?”
“yes, sire.”
“good,” he breathes, joy flashing behind his eyes. “and what about this?” he whispers against your lips, his plump lips tangling with your own. only after playing with your tongue, sucking on the muscle and swallowing your whines does he ask, “is this smart mouth of yours mine?”
“all yours.”
he nods in agreement, fingers gliding down the side of your neck, dusting over your chemise to cup you over your stay. only to find you bare. “were you that hastened to join me for tea?”
“no,” you laugh, hitting his chest as he pulls you closer, enjoying feeling your near bare chest on his. “i breastfeed.” you love your king. for as slow as he is, he is twice as loving. you watch realisation dawn on him not once but twice, a slight pout stealing his lips, exaggerated by their natural downturn. “what is it?”
“i just,” he stops, laughing to himself. “i just realised these-” he cups your tender breasts, thumb barely dusting the sore nubs. “-they’re no longer mine.”
“hyunjin!” his laughter picks up before it stills, the sleeping princess nearly awoken by the delight of her parents. “no, they’re on loan.”
“that’s fine.” he sighs, ducking his head to kiss the center of your chest. “i’ll wait.”
“i’m proud of you.”
“thank you,” your pride does not last long, as he lowers his hands to cup your ass and pull you flush against him. through your chemise and slip, you feel him. all of him. he deftly slips his tongue between your gasping lips, filling your mouth in ways that force your panties to dampen, the fabric soaking with every roll of his hardening cock to your aching slit. “but this is mine,” he reminds you, leaving no room for misunderstanding. “do you understand?”
“y-yes.”
“yes, who?”
“yes, your grace.”
“good. now, go get a nurse for the princess.” the king proclaims, emphasising his point with a firm slap to your ass as you almost sprint out of the room. as you return with the nanny, you feel your heart swell to almost double its size. you find hyunjin by your daughter’s basket, a soft lullaby floating in the air as he gathers her in his long, folded arms. you watch him pass her to the nanny, his fingers passing over her puffed up knuckle, in awe of her inherent daintiness. “sleep well, my dove.”
you fear he might have forgotten you as the two leave and he stares in quiet longing. you finally approach him as his sniffles begin. “hyunjin?”
“i have missed her.” he whines, wet eyes cast skyward, guilt staining his face. “i have been a terrible father-”
“no.” your scold has his gaze falling, his shining eyes searching your frowning face. “not terrible. never terrible. just a little distant.” you soften as he nods, understanding pouring into him as you craddle his face in your palms. “you know now.”
“yeah,” he agrees, leaning to press a wet kiss to your lips. “please forgive me, my love.”
“there’s nothing to forgive.” you hum against his pouting lips, moulding your mouth with his as you try and tear him from this spell of despair. “come sit,” you whisper, guiding him towards his original seat.
when he lowers into it and feels you lower in kind, though to the ground, he frowns deeply. “i-” he stalls as you palm him through his slack breeches, fingers gripping him through the fabric. he grinds up into your closing fist, eyes squeezing shut as you momentarily silence him. the peace is short lived as he moans, realising what you’ve done to him. “i wanted to pleasure you.”
“and you will,” you quickly assure him, smirking when his frown deepens. “once i pleasure you.”
“fine.” he concedes, crossing his arms as you unfasten his breeches. you glare at him through your lashes until he huffs, stiffly raising his hips to allow you room to lower his garments down his thighs. “is there anything else i can do for you, mrs hwang?”
“that is all.” you chortle, fanning the reddened, leaking head of his cock. the sound forces a smile on his face until your tongue glides against his glistening slit. he almost chokes when you gaze up at him suddenly, eyes full of too much love for one king to fathom. “you just relax, okay?”
he can barely make himself nod as he fills your sight with his lovesick smile. “i don’t deserve you.”
“i know.” you rise to your knees to swallow his retraction, enjoying the lurid way he melts under the touch of your lips and palm. you offer languid strokes up and down his length, thumbing at his slit as he practically dribbles down himself. “jinnie, you’re making a mess.”
“‘m sorry.” the whine isn’t worrisome, but rather his second admission of guilt. with a gentle shake of your head, you raise your unsoiled hand to his lips, smearing your mingled saliva across his chin.
“i like you messy,” you admit, watching his eyes glaze over at your confession. “you’re always so proper now. you were never like that.” you squeeze him tighter at his base as you speak, dragging up the length of his cock, forcing a mewl from his throat as he releases his bitten, spit slicked lip. “remember when you were still a prince, and i just a lady?” he nods dumbly, head rolled to the side as drool pools on the corner of his mouth. “you used to fuck me in the greenhouse as it rained on a starry night. and behind the guards’ stables. even in the old maid’s quarters-”
“tha-that’s because we couldn’t anywhere else.”
“true,” you tut, wiping his chin as he fucks up into your closed fist. “yet now the kingdom is yours, you only ever fuck me in the castle.”
“but i always fuck you well.” when you just smile his hips falter, brows knitting as you massage his tensed thigh. “say it.”
“say what?”
“that i always fuck you well.”
“you do fuck me well,” you knowingly half agree, pumping him in your tight fist before he grabs your wrist. only a few seconds pass but the small fire ignited by your defiance burns for an eternity. the warm embers blazed to a full village fire when you squeeze at his base, moving to restart your ministrations. hyunjin only scoffs, clicking his tongue with a soft shake of his head. “a king’s ego should not be so dependent on his queen-”
before you can finish, his fingers cling to the base of your neck, squeezing in a way that traps the words in your throat. he feels you swallow, his dark eyes watching how you struggle to breathe. it’s dizzying. the way he eyes you, flitting between your expanding chest and gasping mouth. he presses the back of his hand to your chin, tilting your lips toward his mouth as he leans in. “it seems my ego rests on the mocking words of my smart mouthed wife,” he whispers into your open mouth, sucking softly on your bottom lip. “so, my queen, mightn’t you humour me? tell me that which i desire to hear.”
“you-” he senses an unfitting retort on your tongue and tightens his grip, marvelling at the delicious way your eyes roll back. he only loosens when theu water, gleaming in pitiful surrender. “you always fuck me well.”
“like i will now.”
“li-like you will now.”
“good,” he grins, proud of your slow but gratifying progress. helping you stand, hyunjin gathers the hem of your chemise in his fists, hiking it up to your waist before placing the fabric in your waiting hands. he feels for your undergarments, fingers gliding along the soft skin of your belly, purposely missing the waistband of your panties. he watches your breathing change with every long second he teases you, missing your sex in obvious ways. when you whine he only tuts, watching a frown kiss your features. “it’s not nice to be kept waiting, is it?”
“no,” you mumble, jutting out a full blown pout. “please touch me, hyunjin.” you too can sense your lover’s utterances before they are ever fully realised. like now, when he smirks, knuckles dusting over your throbbing heat. “properly.”
your emphasis has him chortling, the sound delighting you in ways you cannot explain. how long had it been since you had him like this? warm and open, delighted by the trivialities of foreplay. excited by your pending coitus. it brings a sudden joy to your heart, and, to your husband at least, an inexplicable grin to your bitten lips.
“what tickles you, my love?”
“i just missed you.” you confess, not too dissimilar to his earlier realisation. “i want you happy always.”
“oh,” he breathes, finally pinching your panties and sliding them down past your ankles. “one can feel nothing but joy when you are near.”
“is that so?” you hum as he pulls you to his lap, his thumb dipping into your soaking cunt before slow dragging it along your swollen clit.
“it is so,” he affirms, offering soft pecks to the taut skin of your neck. “it’s why i married you.”
“really- oh,” words stick in your throat as he dips a lone finger in you, his thumb still circling as he presses against your walls. your lips find his in your daze, somehow still embarrassed by the awe with which he regards you. your hips roll against his cramped hand, chasing the beginnings of a tightening coil in the base of your belly. “you’re still infatuated with me?”
“always.” he removes himself without leaving your lips, swallowing your taunt as he guides you onto his awaiting cock. time stills for a moment as you adjust, brain whirring as you both realise the time that has passed since you had him like this. your throbbing walls clamped around his pulsing cock. the subtle tremor of his thighs as you sink onto him, buttocks resting in his waiting palms. he offers a gentle squeeze, one of comfort and question. “can you move?” you nod against his skin, damp forehead pressed to his as he guides your motions with gentle tilts of his wrists. his tongue slips into your mouth, readily lapping at your own as you wrap your arms around his neck. his hands rise to your hips in time, guiding you with a firmer grip, enjoying the slow rock of your hips on his aching cock. he feels you squeeze around him as he sucks on your tongue, his thighs shaking with a looming orgasm. he pulls you in closer, lifting you inches in the air before leaving your slippery lips. before you can even think to protest, hyunjin snaps up into you at a steady pace, enjoying the mewls he conjures from you.
“jinnie, i’m- i-”
“it’s okay,” he groans, on his own verge of release. “it’s okay, my love. let go.”
and you do. moments later you let go, loudly soiling his lap and favourite loveseat as he fucks into your soaking cunt. seconds later he follows you, head thrown back as he releases in you, fearful of nothing but the stained upholstery as he thanks the lord above that you are his wife.
“you owe me a new chair.” he says suddenly, still panting as you pepper soft kiss along his shoulder blade. “and new breeches.”
“it is you who is to blame, sire.” he watches with a raised brow as you rest on his knees. “you always fuck me so well, how could i help myself?”
“ah, right.” he folds when you laugh, the sound forcing his hands upward, along with the corners of his lips. “forgive me, my love.”
“i love you.” you whisper instead, settling against his chest as you both ignore the compromising position you’re in. “so much.”
“and i you,” he swears. “always.”
#don’t ask me what this is#switch!hyunjin#sub!hyunjin#dom!hyunjin#no one tell chan about this fic i still love him#hyunjin smut#hyunjin fluff#hyunjin angst#stray kids#stray kids smut#stray kids fluff#stray kids angst#hyunjin#ncitygirls#stray kids au#skz au#skz smut#skz fluff#skz angst#skz hyunjin
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Jaemin Fic Recs
Behind The Spotlight, Under the covers (S) // @olivesandwhats
Golden Sweet, Golden sick // @wonjaekook
Cat and Mouse // @tyonfs
Bet on it // @just-come-baek
Secrets // @moonlit-jeno
Yours // @ncitygirls
Blue World // @rouiyan
Happy Campers // @lucaswithnoshirt
The Force Between Us // @neoculturetravesty
Body Rhythm // @markresonates
Araw Araw // @hannie-dul-set
Top Of The World // @hannie-dul-set
Blue // @doiefy
Sunset // @tyongxnct
One Of A Kind // @just-come-baek
Wave Rider // @amorajae
Na Jaemin And The Yule Ball // @taeghi
The Way Life Goes + Part 2 + Part 3 + Part 4 + Part 5 // @mrkis
Airbag // @yojeongin
It Takes Four Years To Grow A Peach Tree + interlude // @hannie-dul-set
Upon Your Invitation // @lunena
#NCT#NCT Dream#nct fic recs#nct fluff#nct angst#nct smut#jaemin#jaemin fluff#jaemin angst#jaemin smut#he's so pretty oml
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𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗯𝗶𝗻’𝘀 𝗢𝗰𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝗠𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 𝗽𝘁.𝟭 (𝗼𝗰𝘁.𝟭-𝟭𝟱)
𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘:𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙨𝙚 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙜𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙤𝙘𝙩𝙤𝙗𝙚𝙧. 𝙄𝙩 𝙙𝙤𝙚𝙨𝙣𝙩 𝙣𝙚𝙘𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙡𝙮 𝙢𝙚𝙖𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙨 𝙤𝙧 𝙖 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙖𝙣 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧 𝙙𝙞𝙙.
Pls tell me if i linked the wrong fic or if there’s smth wrong w/ the masterlist
Oᴛʜᴇʀ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀs: 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗻, 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗵𝗼, 𝗵𝘆𝘂𝗻𝗷𝗶𝗻, 𝗵𝗮𝗻, 𝗳𝗲𝗹𝗶𝘅, 𝘀𝗲𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗺𝗶𝗻, 𝗷𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗴𝗶𝗻, 𝗼𝘁𝟴
☞︎ Pᴀʀᴛ2
Tᴀɢ: changbinsz.oct21
Gᴜɪᴅᴇ: ☘︎︎- sᴍᴜᴛ | ☁︎︎- ғʟᴜғғ | ☕︎︎- 𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘀𝘁 | ⚠︎︎-sᴇɴsɪᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ
𝗗𝗮𝘆 𝟭
-
𝗗𝗮𝘆 𝟮
❥ sugar daddy by @peachychxn - ☘︎︎
𝗗𝗮𝘆 𝟯
❥ 11:42 pm by @hanjisick - ☘︎︎ ⚠︎︎
𝗗𝗮𝘆 𝟰
❥ seo changbin + pissplay by @chans-chair - ☘︎︎
𝗗𝗮𝘆 𝟱
❥ day four by @seungmoomin - ☘︎︎
𝗗𝗮𝘆 𝟲
❥ my love is come to me by @silverlightqueen - ☕︎︎
❥ only by @ncitygirls - ☕︎︎ ☁︎︎ suggestive
𝗗𝗮𝘆 𝟳
❥ 1:44 by @spilledtee - ☘︎︎
❥ ease by @seospicy - ☁︎︎ ☘︎︎
𝗗𝗮𝘆 𝟴
❥ midnight in the maize by @lixesque - ☕︎︎
❥ 06- hair pulling by @hwangyeonjun - ☘︎︎
❥ flustered by @huihuiheart - ☁︎︎
𝗗𝗮𝘆 𝟵
❥ face fucking + changbin by @authorb - ☘︎︎
❥ day 3 by @cartierbin - ☘︎︎
❥ a helping hand by @ch4nb4ng - ☘︎︎
𝗗𝗮𝘆 𝟭𝟬
❥ make me stay by @dreamescapeswriting - ☘︎︎
𝗗𝗮𝘆 𝟭𝟭
❥ downcast by @staysuki - ☁︎︎
𝗗𝗮𝘆 𝟭𝟮
-
𝗗𝗮𝘆 𝟭𝟯
❥ teeth by @sugasblunt - ☘︎︎ ☕︎︎
❥ s.cb (m) by @popisdead - ☘︎︎
𝗗𝗮𝘆 𝟭𝟰
❥ exhibitionism by @bngchnsi - ☘︎︎
𝗗𝗮𝘆 𝟭𝟱
❥ 13th kinktober by @rikisnuggie - ☘︎︎
follow for part2!
#sorry for the spam of tags!#changbinsz.oct21#binnie#seo changbin#seo changbin smut#seo changbin fluff#seo changbin angst#skz fluff#skz smut#skz angst#seo changbin x reader#changbin au#changbin fanfic#changbin oneshots#changbin scenarios#bystay
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yours - jaemin x f reader
fluff, smut, bffs2lovers, 3k
before joining you to your cousin’s wedding, jaemin had made a big deal about not being properly invited. as always, mark kept true to his habit of innocently causing trouble when it suited him. ‘i’m like family! where’s my invite!’ but it was hard to fault mark, because of course jaemin had been invited. somehow, his parents neglected to inform him that your cousin had rightfully assumed jaemin would know he was included in the na family’s invite. you said nothing though. especially when jaemin had briefly explained the reason for his displeasure. ‘we deserve our own invite, y/n. one for us together.’ which made no sense at all, because you’re just friends. you’re not together. however you had no idea you were alone in thinking that.
you see, jaemin was more acquainted with your family than some of your own relatives. he was invited to christmases, weddings, birthdays. basically any and all occasions your family saw fit to celebrate, jaemin was in attendance. yet surprisingly, even after having grown up alongside you and mark, a few of your more distant cousins were more than happy to express their displeasure with his more forward placed seat. because, like you keep reminding everybody: jaemin is just your best friend. but apparently, best friends didn’t reserve the rights to things you gave to jaemin. not in your extended family’s eyes. not that yours and mark’s family cared.
yet in the end, like most things regarding you, jaemin knew his attendance tonight had been a mistake. but not because of the petty feud his presence birthed in the lee lineage. oh no. it’s because, unlike most nights jaemin spends in your company - with your hair strewn about, mascara permanently smudged, and a lazy grin etched on - tonight, you were his least favourite kind of y/n. the one where he can’t help but follow you with his eyes, watch the placement of your feet, enjoy the shrill tone of your cackle. throughout the night, jaemin had found himself warmed by the way you drag your balled up fist over your made up eye, how you sing along to songs you don’t know the words to, how you wobble in your heels before you cling to him.
jaemin makes the mistake of enjoying you a bit too much. how you scowl as your relatives chat shit a bit too loud for you liking, how you make a scene of conspicuously covering his ears, unaware of how unbothered he is. how you try so hard to make him happy, in the smallest and largest of ways. so he drags you into a dance when you move to walk over, ready to rip your own blood a new one. “i’m gonna kill ‘em.”
“no,” he states simply, one of his hands slipping from your hand to your waist. “dance with me.”
“who do they think they are!” your voice adopts an unsettling shrillness that he can’t help but chuckle at. it even throws his head back. “why are you so happy? you should be mad!”
“because i don’t care,” he shrugs, tightening his hold on you slightly. “i’m here- you’re here. why would i not be happy?”
“you’re such a fucking leo.”
he still doesn’t know what that means, but he laughs anyway, happy that your deduction seemed to satisfy you. you eventually calm down, a peace settling over you as he spins you lazily around the dance floor. there’s some early 2000s track playing, one definitely unfitting for the way he’s swaying you. but you pay it no mind, speaking softly as he presses his cheek to the crown of your head.
“when do you wanna head up?” up, meaning the hotel room your relatives are also wound up about. it was intended for the bridal party and far travelled guests, neither of which they are. and neither of which you are. but you were your cousin’s favourite. and so was he. so naturally, you two had one reserved. even your parents had opted to stay at a cottage a couple roads over. “i think the boys are all gone already.”
he notes the guilt tainting your tone, knowing how drained jaemin grew from both physical and social interactions of any kind. so you knew well what his answer would be. “when you’re ready.”
“okay,” slipping out of his hold, you drag him over to the newly married couple. you exchange brief goodnights and grateful tidings before he excuses himself to find the jacket of his tuxedo. the search doesn’t take long, his eyes landing on the black coat a few seconds after parting. he does give himself a breather though, his knees cracking as the seat holding his jacket readily carries his weight. he doesn’t dare shut his eyes, knowing full well he’ll fall victim to his fatigue. so instead, he let’s them follow the one thing that always occupies his mind, that can keep him up all night. he finds you far quicker than he did his coat, the pink satin of your dress falling half way down your calf as you skipped over to bid some other guests farewell. he sighs happily, glad you never force him into such tedious pleasantries. you learnt a long time ago that while impossibly affectionate, jaemin’s social clock ticked a few hours faster than any one else’s. so by your timing, it had probably expired a little after the vows. it took a little bit of getting used to, but it also meant for quicker farewells and a speedier exit.
it’s only now jaemin realises this was a mistake. because before he ever gets his breather, less from you, but all the feelings that come from being with you, you’re at his side. he’s learned how not to cease up at your touch anymore. instead, linking his fingers with yours when they rest gently on his shoulder. when he peeks up at you, his eyes blinded less by the party lighting and more by your tired smile, he knows not to sigh, forcing down his body’s natural response to your attention. but when you tug at his hands, bringing him to stand, whispering a-
“let’s go home, yeah?”
he knows this isn’t a mistake. this is torture.
it’s how you pour him a tall, ice cold glass of domesticity with every meal. your hand wrapped in his as you lead him through the hotel. you slip out of your heels somewhere between the lobby and the elevator, grinning up at him as he takes them from you. jaemin even curses himself, his body responding to your needs unthinkingly. he tries to calm his beating heart by counting the floors, his eyes following the analog dial as you lean against his shoulder, fiddling with his cuffs.
“do you want them off?” you ask softly, barely a touch louder than the elevator music. he nods, though your gel nails are already picking at the gold, removing them with ease. “gimme the other one.” he inhales deeply, cursing whoever gave you to him. well, not really. you weren’t really his. but god did you act like it.
your hands slip into his pocket for the room key before slipping back into his hand. he just follows you out, caught in a happy daze as you take him ‘home’. you struggle a bit with the key card, trying it every which way before he leans into you, wrapping his arm around you as he reaches for the card. “the arrow’s pointing this way,” his thumb nail presses on the black arrow indicating the direction you have to push it. he doesn’t see you roll your eyes, but he guesses you do. so he presses his lips to your temple in apology. “you’ll get it next time.”
“piss off,” you laugh, pushing the door open when it clicks. he throws the heels and jacket on a chair by the door before collapsing onto the adjacent couch, his body ready to succumb to his dire need for rest. he can just about hear you rustling through the bags in the bathroom, your feet padding around on the linoleum. when it muffles slightly, he figures out immediately what you’ve returned for when you stop between his thighs. “thank you,” you sigh, his fingers already pinching at the zip on your dress. it sits low at the base of your spine, the back of the dress leaving you completely exposed. he’d taken to placing his hand there all night, his fingers gliding up and down the skin whenever he got the chance. when it’s down, his eyes linger on your hips, the top of your panties peeking out before you slap his knee.
“what?”
“the necklace,” your back is still turned, hair blocking his view. “please?” you add, hand smoothing over the skin of his knee.
“come here,” he pulls you down to sit between his thighs, his legs parting to make space for you. you land with a huff, quickly realising you haven’t sat down all night. jaemin realises this too, your neck craning a bit further to the side than necessary as he tucks your hair over your shoulder. “you okay?”
“mhm,” you hum, squeezing his thigh. “just a bit sleepy.”
“a bit?” he laughs, a little breathless as he gathers the chain he got you one christmas. “i think you’ve earned a good sleep.” he surmises, hands squeezing your shoulders gently. “but you know you were a guest today, right? not the planner?”
“yeah?” turning onto your knees, you glare down at him. “someone had to sort my uncle out, he was steaming!”
“yes, true,” he laughs. “just make sure you’re not doing that at my wedding.”
you feign surprise at that, “i’m invited to your wedding?”
“of course,” his hands squeeze yours earnestly before he whispers, “can’t have my wedding without the bride, can i-”
“fuck off!” his cackles chase you out the room. while you wash up, he makes quick work of his tux, throwing his slacks over the back of the couch, his thumbs slowly unhooking each of his buttons. a true man of leisure, he’s in all but his socks and draws when you return. “all done!” you sing, throwing the dress down as you reappear in an oversized t-shirt. he recognises it almost immediately from uni. it’s his soccer team’s jersey. it has his number on the back.
“finally,” he whines, pushing you aside as he makes his way inside, quickly locking the door to avoid your attacks. he goes to reach for his wash bag just to find the reason he did already waiting unpacked. in a small cup on the side is his toothbrush, resting sweetly beside yours. he ignores the hygienic implications of this and skips right to the romantic. because, while jaemin thinks and often dreams of placing your first name with his last, and while he spends most of his free time with you, and while he would take any number of bullets for you, he still can’t for the life of him figure you out. even after he bombards you with affection, praise, teasing, flirting, kisses. you’re still just you. making him just him.
and that’s fine, if that’s what you want. but he’s not sure he truly knows what it is you want. and this gets him thinking about the little things. how his hand is seldom empty in your presence. how you never think of him second, always first. how you want to be with him always. moments like now, when he returns to find you hanging his tux on its hanger, encasing it in its protective sleeve. his arms slip around your waist, pulling you flush against him. and you melt instantly, resting in his embrace. “thanks,” he mumbles, lips pressing gently to your shoulder.
“‘is okay,” you hum, hanging it over the back of the door before resting your hands over his. see, hands never empty when you’re near. he sways you back and forth, his heart beating gently into your back as you lean into him. “did you have fun?” you ask, squeezing at his forearms, “i know we probably stayed later than you’d like-”
“it was great.” see, always putting him first. “did you want to stay longer?”
“not without you.” see, how you want to be with him always. he wonders how you don’t see it. how you don’t see you’re killing him. “come on,” you mumble, shutting off the light as you blindly drag him to bed. jaemin has an annoying habit of following you in, his body shuffling in after yours, rather than separating and meeting in the middle. it doesn’t allow you much room, by the time you reach your side, he’s encased you in his arms, legs, even his head, his chin slotting itself in the crook of your neck. “nana?”
“hm?”
“i’m sorry about today,” the apology doesn’t shock him, but rather your disappointment. “you’re more like family to mark and i than they ever were. tonight was just proof of that.”
“it’s okay,” he squeezes you a touch harder, trying to decipher whether your words harm or soothe the growing hole in his heart. “i can’t say i don’t see where they’re coming from.”
“what d’you mean?”
“i dunno,” he starts, thinking as his lips press to the back of your neck. “i guess i’d be confused by us too,” he mutters against your skin.
“how so?” you press, turning in his hold, gazing up at him. his eyes are more than used to the dark now as he gazes back down at you. you’re tucked right up to him, the covers strewn over your lower halves. he rests his temple on his palm, elbow pressed into the mattress as you fiddle with his fingers. “what’s confusing?”
he shrugs as best he can, watching his hand in yours. “i dunno,” he repeats, grinning when you huff. “i just- i think it’s hard for people to get that i’m your friend,” he tries, “just your friend.”
“what else would you be?” what else? what else?!
“i dunno,” he repeats for the third time, though he knows exactly what you’d be. but you don’t need to know that. not when you seemed so happy, so satisfied with how things are already. and that’s what’s most important to him. your happiness. and jaemin couldn’t exactly say he wasn’t happy with how things are either, he just knows there could be more to you both, more to this. more to him than being your best friend. but maybe it’s for another night. like he tells himself every time you push a topic you’re not remotely ready to breach. “let’s forget it-”
“no,” he flinches, just preparing to settle down for sleep. “am i missing something? if i am, just tell me.”
“i-” he drops his forehead to yours then. he’s so close, your eyes have to cross just for you to see him. it’s only when he rises you see a change in him. a nervous jaemin isn’t one you’re use to. it’s one that you would rather never see, it truly worries you. especially as he agrees, a small “okay,” leaving him before he kisses the tip of your nose, his lips barely puckered as they meet the skin. he grins as he does, his teeth gleaming in the moonlit room, his eyes open just wide enough to see you. his lips drop to your cheek, warming as your skin does. he hovers there as your hand tightens on his arm, clinging to him. he daren’t move, afraid the slightest jolt will wake him, drag him right out of this sleepless dream. when your grip loosens, he drops his head until he’s right by your mouth, his lips daringly puckering before he presses them to the corner of your lips. he stills as yours do too, your soft lips, now embalmed in his memory, pressing there ever so gently before he rises once more. he waits a second, watching the smallest of shivers rack through you before he dips again, lips falling to your neck. he smiles against your skin, overjoyed as you subtly crane your neck. his teeth drag over your skin as he journeys down the column of your neck, your hands gripping onto him a touch harder when he stops.
his fingers glide along the skin of your side, thumb pressing into the dip of your waist. he stops short of your chest, locked mid motion as he watches you breathe. there is no haste in his movements. no need to rush anything. no need to hurry. all there is, is a beat. a steady one in his chest. one that holds him here, one where he can’t move, can’t bring himself to test the waters you’ve just dared he enter. not even as the pads of your fingers glide along the warm skin of his neck, nails dragging through his nape, silently daring him to move. he pants over your chest, a lazy grin pulling at his mouth as you ask him again-
“what else would you be, jaem?”
he moves unthinkingly. as his dampened lips meet the hardened nub through your t-shirt, sucking on you through the aged material. his rolls his teeth gently, his fingers at your side finding your neglected nipple as you whine out for him. he feels himself slipping into delirium, caught somewhere between a dream and reality, unsure where exactly he’d rather be. he decides it doesn’t matter, not when you’re there. here. with him. letting him touch you in ways he never really thought possible. ways jaemin only ever imagined, only ever let himself surrender to in the dead of night. in the solitude of his own shameful company. he never thought of this. not really.
he had hoped, maybe even prayed, but never truly believed he’d have you whimpering for him. your fingers falling in the gaps between his own, pressing his open palm harder against your thinly veiled heat, your hips rolling against it. jaemin never thought he’d hear your whines, the sound cutting through him like knives, like ice shooting through his veins. he never thought you’d want him. not like this.
“jaem,” he’s with you in seconds, his spit slick lips an inch above yours. he watches patiently as you grind up against his hand, feeling his fingers prod at your desperate heat.
“you wanna know what else i could be?”
you nod. “please.”
“i could be yours.”
#i haven’t got the range#also i have jaemin on the brain and friendship too!#meet me at the altar#ncitygirls#na jaemin#jaemin#jaemin x reader#jaemin smut#jaemin fluff#nct x reader#nct dream#nct dream smut#nct dream fluff#nct smut#nct fluff#needs another proofread#enjoy!
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only - changbin x f reader
angst, fluff, suggestive, royal!au, cw: war, 5.3k
you were barely eighteen when you accepted the hand in marriage of the son of the duke and duchess of levanter. seo changbin - an affluent heir to an impossible fortune - almost had you surprised when you found his interest in you was unlike that of your fellow bachelorettes. naturally, their interest was fuelled by an insatiable greed and a hot desire for financial prosperity. as should yours, as was yours. not changbin though. no, changbin prided himself on many things unfitting for a man of his status, even his age. he wondered not of your family’s alliances or existing trading partners, but of religion and upbringing. he tsked at mention of your international estates, unless in regard to your memories there. he was complimentary of your attire, less in expense but rather in beauty. changbin wanted to know of your favourite season, and your preferred time of day. who was your favourite poet, and from them your favourite poem. he was obsessed with your knowledge of the world, or rather your interest in it. you had been to neo, but did you really see it, really explore? and if not would you care to? did you prefer sugar or honey in your tea? your bread buttered or oiled? to sleep bare or in silk? he wanted to know what side of the bed you preferred to sleep on, if you were adverse to cuddling and if so, if you could be persuaded.
to be fair, he only spoke with you like this for two reasons. the first being your shared upbringing. after almost two decades of friendship, having you enter his home in the prospect of being his wife didn’t come as a surprise to the young bachelor, but rather a relief. he spent days in and days out discussing family politics, ancestry, and accounts. he chose to ignore the blatant issue there, sharing the intricacies of his family’s wealth and heritage with these ladies from kingdoms and countries he’d been too busy to pay any mind in schooling. he knew his ignorance could come back to bite him and it did, especially as you entered his home looking far prettier than he had ever recalled you looking. he held his tongue before he could whistle, but you could see his smirk all the same. it softened into a grin as he bowed, you returning the pleasantry with a lot less pleasantness than he offered you. he welcomed it all the same. it was why he could be free on this day. speak about the things that would effect you two as one another’s, not you two as one.
your presence also meant he didn’t have to pussyfoot around. he didn’t have to fear your hatred, nor your judgement. though your eyes rolled more than the actual number of potential brides he had become acquainted with. he let f bombs slip, and his guard down. he frolicked with you through the grounds you already knew so well, and guided you through the parts once forbidden to the rambunctious children you once were. he walked you to the kitchen and asked for bread, as opposed to stealing it like you both once would. he tried to describe the estate’s chambers as best he could, detailing the art a then prince hyunjin had gifted him and your childish scratchings still on his door frame.
‘you can see it one day,’ he had whispered under the willow tree on the grounds, watching the way your fingers clung loosely to the weeping leaves. ‘it’s still as it was when we were children.’
‘and how would i do that?’ the question is valid enough, though he frowns, tilting his head. ‘i did not realise i had uttered a riddle, my lord.’
‘well neither had i,’ he tutted, moving to latch onto the same branch you once held. ‘and here i was, assuming you to be the smart one.’
‘i am the smart one.’
‘then answer me this,’ he began, pausing to firmly elaborate, ‘plainly.’ your eyes roll for the umpteenth time at his silent warning before you concede with a nod. ‘how might you see my bed?’
with a sigh you deadpan, ‘if you were to make me your wife.’
‘so to see my bed, and your vandalism-’
‘scribbles.’
‘i must make you my wife.’
‘it seems quite the extreme just to see some old scribbles.’ if changbin senses the hidden meaning to your words, he gave nought away. ‘mightn’t someone just bring me a piece of the bed? i’m sure it’s almost past its use, just peel the pane off. and why still the same bed? you are a young lord of age now, don’t you think-’
‘you know you prattle when you’re nervous?’
‘i do no such thing-’
‘it’s cute.’
‘changbin! how are you so sure i want to be your wife, hm?’ you half questioned, moving away from his looming figure. ‘i only came because your parents asked me here.’
‘y/n, i have known you a long time,’ he punctuates his reminder by closing the distance you so bravely placed between you. ‘if you wished not to be here, you would have found no greater pleasure than to decline the invitation.’ that much is not only true but undeniable. the seo’s was your third courting invite this month alone. you knew, and worse, changbin knew. ‘is it so hard to admit that i might have soften that hardened heart of yours?’
‘i find no pleasure in your games, changbin.’
‘what game, y/n? can a man not just want you?’ your eyes betray you as you try to expel the softness conjured by his taunt. a taunt that is starting to sound less like a taunt, and more like a confession. ‘can i not just want you?’
‘how do i know you want me, bin?’ you pressed, pressing your back to the leaning trunk of the all encompassing tree. ‘how do i know you don’t just want a way out of this endless cycle of mindless heiresses?’
‘you said my parents asked you here?’ your head bobbed as he approached you, nodding in time with you before he stopped a foot before you, smiling eyes gazing right at you. ‘who do you think asked them?’
you were married that fall. under that same willow tree, in the presence of his royal highness and his kin, your family and the seos. the affair was small like you both wanted. small like your needs. you joked marrying you was a cop out, as he spun you around the gardens, escaping the intimate celebrations in the grand banquet hall to enjoy the breeze on your skin and feel the wind in your hair. it was the first time he held you since your dance lessons as kids. where you would lead and he would follow. he once swore he would follow you anywhere. both literally and figuratively. around the grounds of your childhood home, in all your beliefs and ideologies. he filled his mind and self with your gospel and truth, infatuated with your manner of thinking, how you arrived at conclusions. changbin spent his whole childhood falling in love with you.
‘you weren’t a cop out,’ he breathed into the shell of your ear, humming as you lay your head on his shoulder. pressing his lips to your temple he confessed, ‘you were my only choice.’
that night, the two of you consummated your marriage under that same willow tree. his hands clinging to your waist as he ground his hips into you. his tightened breaths filling the drum of your ear with every snap, his lips closing around the skin of your jaw, summoning the most satisfying whines he could draw from you. his lover. his friend. his lady.
in his absence, you remind him of this night. how biting the bark had been on your skin, the autumn air stinging your already teary eyes. his last letter arrived over a fortnight ago, it spoke of his fears at battle, the treacherous methods of his enemies. the only face he prays to see again and until that day, the only face he will dream of. you have sent a handful of letters since then, yet still sour as you awake another day to no news. you sigh as you grab your quill, letting the ink drip before signing off your letter.
‘my dearest, changbin. a season separates us, but only a season could.’
it isn’t long after you seal it that you are summoned to the hwang holiday estate. the royal family have a long history of retreating to the country when the weather is a touch higher than that of luke warm water, or near cool cinder. the seo’s residence is but a short carriage ride from the estate, though a tad longer walk. you often opt to walk as you do today, taking no larger than foot long strides between the cobbled paths. your guard walks in time with you, though no more than a few feet behind. he had never been one for small talk, you quickly came to realise. though, since neither is your husband, you feel an odd sense of relief, normality, even in his absence. you try and enjoy the song of the breeze through the willow, the scent of the king’s rose garden carried on its back. it’s hard over the creak of your guard’s hurried stomps, his pace doubling with every corner you take. you only verbalise your awareness of his impatience when he arrives beside you, hastened to strike the door to announce your arrival.
“master yang,” you call softly as you two await entry. “if i did not know any better, i would say you were rushing me.”
“apologies, my lady,” he confesses, stepping back at your side without any question. though, when he gulps, you eye him with a softened concern. “i was informed you were summoned due to a grave emergency.”
“worry not, jeongin.” you chide, recalling your highness’ idea of an emergency. “the king often calls when the queen is away and he is tasked with matters such as assigning dinner seating.” jeongin looks as if he is about to ask when you add, “she says his involvement humbles him.” when he nods, you straighten as the door swings open, a servant welcoming you in. “yes, there is nothing to fear, master yang.”
only, falser words had never been spoken.
you are quick to note the tremor in the king’s frame as he hurries to stand upon your arrival, rushing you through the official pleasantries of an official summoning. “lady seo.”
“your highness.” you reply, your knee bending as you politely lower your head. “how are you on this fine afternoon-”
“i apologise, y/n. but as you know, i didn’t call you hear on matters of leisure.” he politely interrupts, a flush of embarrassment flooding his cheeks as you frown. “when was last you heard from him?”
“heard from who?”
“from—” hyunjin’s confused gaze cuts to his informants, a few members of his court shying away from him before he marvels at them. “has lady seo not been informed?” when he receives no reply, you feel yourself shrink as the gentle king bellows, “why has lady seo not been informed?”
“informed of what—”
“the order of information begins with yourself sire, before reaching the court, the council, the lady and then the people.”
“i specifically requested she be kept informed. why has she not been kept informed?”
“well, your grace, the lady of a knight is only to be informed once official word is received from the battlefield and delivered to you sire.”
“official word of what—”
“which came through this morning and you are about to deliver the information to the lady.”
“king hyunjin!”
gasps fill the room from all but the king himself. he doesn’t falter, instead he turns to move towards you, his eyes growing more fearful, more earnest as he approaches. he shudders at the thought of delivering this message. he even scolds himself for attempting to delegate such responsibility. you are a friend. not only to the crown, but to the royal family itself. before heavy crowns kissed their heads. before rings ever kissed your knuckles. you were his friend. you had always been a friend to him, and the only time you had ever needed him was now and he had let you down.
“we received word that neo soldiers stormed our fortress in miroh. while we have received word from a few troops who were able to escape, we have yet to ascertain who of the full fleet have made it to safety.” when he pauses to gulp he sees your eyes gleam, breaths shallow. his hands then find yours, gripping your shaky, sweaty digits tightly. “we have received no word from changbin’s troop,” he stops when you gasp, your tears falling, cascading down and around your stained cheeks, your lip trembling. “but we have been able to track a number of our men back through the yellow wood, south of levanter.”
“i-is he there? is he okay?”
“we are yet to hear word,” the tears continue to fall, and he hates himself but all he can do is continue, divulge everything he knows. “they plan to set up camp on the edge of the wood, so i will make my way there now and have word sent back to you as soon as i find him.”
“no,” you refuse, snatching your hands away to drag them over your stained cheeks. “i cannot wait, i will join you.”
“as will i,” jeongin pipes up behind you, his voice an odd comfort once more. “your grace.”
“it is no place for a lady,” hyunjin tries, sighing when you just scowl, already mid curtsey as you preempt his agreement and dismissal. “i will have a carriage sent for you at once.”
“would taking just a horse quicken my arrival?”
“i-it would,” he discloses reluctantly, watching you ready yourself to decline the carriage. “for my sake though,” your scowl returns, ignoring the concern from the king. “i implore you to take the carriage. the yellow wood is far from kind..” you decode his meaning before he ever finishes speaking. the yellow wood is far from safe.
“but is this not the same wood my husband’s troop plans to take, sire?” hyunjin’s nod comes seconds later, shame tensing his jaw. hyunjin is visibly trying to appreciate your patience after having all this information dumped on you. but hyunjin also recalls the threats you readily made and followed through on in your younger years. so much so, he fears the worst of you when you bow before slowly approaching him, voice but a decibel higher than a nat’s buzz to threaten him. the king. before as many witnesses as it takes to have your head. “fine. i will take the carriage.
“but i regret to inform you i have fallen victim to the sick allure of hope. so if this carriage takes him from me? if i am too late? i will burn your kingdom to the ground, jinnie. mark my words.”
only once you leave does hyunjin breathe, noticably shaken by the violent rage existing within the women of his kingdom. “ready her carriage.” he suddenly commands, terrified of letting you down. “i want her there by nightfall.”
hyunjin had not embellished the treachery of this road. you had halted close to ten times in the first six hours of the journey. thanks to forewarning by the king and his council, your guards were prepared to be extra vigilant. weary from all sides of the carriage, bandits who fell from the trees and ambushed from the sides did not live long enough to prevail. from dawn til dusk, the wood falsified night with its woven rotted branches and the gradually setting sun, seeing was becoming more hopeless yet more crucial. without a maid for travelling company and jeongin busy guarding your personage, you were once again left with your thoughts. in times of dire woe, you called on memories of your love, though they read more like dreams. this dream is one that only longing for the man you prayed awaited you on the end of this perilous journey could conjure. because not only do you miss him, you fear for him. not much has changed.
‘you think i am going to get myself killed?’ he breathed, nipping at your clavicle as you rest in his lap. ‘have you no faith in me?’
‘of course i do,’ you defend, gasping as he clamps down, teeth rolling your skin. ‘i just-’
‘you just.. what?’ he doesn’t expect an answer. or so you suspect. especially following a slow drag of your thinly veiled heat over his firmed thigh. ‘you think i would ever abandon you?’
‘no, binnie,’ you start, rising from him with a sigh. ‘i just know you.’
‘you do?’ he ponders sweetly, gazing up at your shining eyes. ‘and what is it you know?’
‘you’re powerful, but far too stubborn.’
‘you know,’ he hums, crossing his thick arms as a small pout steals the lips of the strongest man in the kingdom. ‘for someone who claims to adore me, you tend to speak ill of me every chance you get, my lady.’
‘must the two be exclusive?’ when his frown only deepens, his folded arms tightening, you sigh once more. returning to his spread legs, you perch yourself on them, raising your steady fingers to the creases painting the forehead of the most stubborn man you’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. he softens only slightly, his pouted lip closing around yours when you lean in, silently asking his forgiveness. ‘for every ill spoken word, i make up for with countless good, bin.’
‘such as?’ he huffs, knowingly egging you on.
with a small smile, you offer a final peck to his lips before praising the knight beneath you. ‘i know you will fight valiantly.’ you admit, pride permeating right through you to the man you call yours. ‘you will bring honour to your family, to your country.’ with the pads of your fingers, you tuck his hair behind his ear, cooing as he relaxes at your touch. ‘you will be a hero, my love.’
‘and this all worries you?’
‘do you know who will keep your legacy alive, changbin?’ his frown returns at concern for your quivering lip, a sudden fear seeping into your tone. ‘me. your widow.’ he begins to shake his head, a half assed assurance on the tip of his prideful tongue when you remind, ‘it may vex you to hear this, but please remember your knighting was in part an award for your bravery, but also in large part to hyunjin’s love for you.’
‘how can you say that-’
‘since bang chan the brave, name a knight who lived to see his knighting. just one, bin. name one who knelt before their king and felt the sword atop their shoulders. name one who did not die in battle, leaving their grieving widow to accept a meaningless commendation of his honour?’
‘you call your father’s commendation meaningless?’
‘don’t make me laugh, bin.’ your scoff would wound him had you not uttered, ‘i would have rathered he be the one to walk me down the isle the day i married you. knowing my father loved me enough to protect his country is a nice sentiment, but don’t you dare assume i would take that honour over his life.’
‘hey,’ he calls, holding you in his lap as you try to move from him. ‘my love, i didn’t mean to offend.’
‘i know,’ in these seconds you see past the facade, the knight that your husband is. you only see what you fell in love with. you see the compassion, the understanding. ‘bin, i need you to understand. really understand.’ with his cheeks cradled in your palms, you plead with your love. ‘you mean everything to me, seo changbin. before i ever realised you did. i will not let this mindless war take you from me.
‘don’t be a hero, changbin. leave that to some village boy with a chip on his shoulder, with something to prove.’ he nuzzles into your palm as he listens to your plea, gazing into your warning eyes. ‘just come back to me, okay? don’t make me beg.’
‘what if it helped your case?’ he mumbled into your skin, his lips gently puckering as his palms glide up the side of your neck. his tongue slid betwixt your parted lips, trying to exorcise any and all tension from your trembling frame. with another soft pucker of his lips, a suck on your wet muscle has you loosening, falling into him as he moves to embrace you. ‘would you?’
‘do not mock me.’
‘i would never,’ you find this hard to believe as he smirks like a man with ten knives readied for your back. they come as kisses instead, they line the column of your neck, followed closely by his thumbs as he angles your head toward him. ‘you just seem ready to, so i would love to hear it.’
‘perhaps i will marry that lee boy, with the speckled cheeks. i hear the maids think he’s a descendant of fairies, born from the very stars that kiss his face-’ the words halt in your throat as he flips you, firmly pinning you to the goose down.
‘you seem to have thought this through..’
‘have i much choice?’ you huff, glaring at his thoughtful gaze. ‘one tends to ponder such things when faced with their husband’s imminent demise.’ he only sighs, eyes rolling skyward as he asks the gods, old and new, why they ever chose you for him. ‘i hear his line is filled only with beautiful men. who was his ancestor again? minho the something.’
‘you know,’ refusing to come to your aid, he gathering up the hem of your silks. ‘most men would have your head by now.’
‘-magnificent! it was minho the magnificent!’
‘maleficent.’
‘hm?’
‘his name,’ nipping at the exposed skin of your chest, his hand tugs at the starched fabric as he corrects you. ‘it was minho the maleficent.’
‘oh,’ you breathe, less in defeat but rather in sweet contentment. ‘and why is that?’
‘because, my sweet,’ he huffs into your chest, resting on the heels of his palms planted either side of your cushioned head. ‘he burned all of levanter to the ground when his queen died.’
‘yes, he did.’ changbin only strokes the skin of your cheek as you pout, his eyes rolling at your uncanny ability to bring everything back to his encroaching departure. ‘and my husband will not even skip one war for me.’
‘’one war’?’ he smirks, dropping his lips to your exposed breast, tongue sweeping over your teased nipples. ‘you speak as though war is like an evening in a tavern.’
‘both tend to end in regret,’ you jest, or attempt to. it is growing increasingly difficult to barter with him as he presses his lips to your stomach, his body lowering in kind with his touch. before he can disappear entirely from view, you rise. as he rises with you, you are stunned by his rosey cheeks, the flush journeying to his neck as you rest on your elbows. he sees your turmoil. your clear desire for him shadowed painfully by your love and fear. he drops a kiss to your hip, his knuckles dusting the veiled bead of your heat, eyes hard on you as you falter, head lolling to the side before you regain your strength. ‘bin?’
‘hm?’
‘stay.’ it’s faint. so faint he barely recognises it as a plea. he only sighs, his forehead pressed to your abdomen as he purges your wet eyes from his memory. ‘please say you will stay. i cannot bear the thought of a winter without you.’
‘my love,’ changbin speaks into your skin, lowly beseeching your understanding while praying for your peace. ‘a season might separate us,’ he hums, expertly parting your thighs as he offers a lone kiss to your mound. ‘but only a season could.’
“my lady?” jeongin’s voice is first to break you from your nostalgic nightmare. the second is the cries of injured men. “we have arrived.”
the edge of the wood is a wounded minefield. limbless soldiers, knights and footmen alike, are dotted around the dimly lit field. your eyes gloss over at the heaped bodies, and water at the stench. “how long have they been here?”
“just under a week,” jeongin recalls, holding his hand out to stop you as medics pass with a burnt body on a stretcher. “it is hard to believe this is the winning camp.”
“there are no winners in war, jeongin.” you whisper, watching a man close the eyes of his fallen comrade a pair approach to drop his body in a mass grave. a fight ensues. “only loss.”
“y/n?” you halt at the call, half sprinting at the sight of han jisung, wearing a smile warm enough to light the night. “i thought his highness was jesting when he said you’d be here.”
“han!” you cried, latching onto him with a grip that nearly winded him. “thank god, thank god.”
“more like thank changbin,” he wheezed, squeezing you back just as tight, lifting you a few feet off the ground. “had he not been here, i would have surely-”
“where is he?”
“-died.” he only grins as you stiffen, recognising his part in your terror a second too late. “oh! no! he isn’t dead! he is alive! very alive!” his eyes flicker to a scowling jeongin, gulping down an apology as he gestures to his left. “come.”
further from the wood and slowly decaying corpses are the tents. some somehow less grand than a teepee, some spacious enough for a few hours sleep. jisung guides you both up to the largest of the lot, where you find an ill tempered king hyunjin growing increasingly more so. “no, leave him be.”
“had we known you were coming your grace- we can have him moved immediately.”
“your king gave you an order, soldier.” jisung chimes in, tongue slotting into the swell of his cheek as he gestures to you over his shoulder. “now move out of the way or i’ll have you explain to lady seo why she can’t see her husband on account of your insubordinance.”
“yes, sir.”
hyunjin bristles at jisung’s ability to command his men with little effort before he softens at your restless gaze. “he’s been asking for you.”
the grandeur of the king’s tent suits changbin well, you think. a fire crackles at the furthest end, masked only by a large canopy where you know he rests. the four poster bed takes up most of the space, and around it lays tin bowls, rags, blankets and water. the room seems barely lived in bar the knight whose faint breaths float toward you through the warm air. you feel yourself stalling, too busy taking in the space to recognise your fear. what will you find when you pull the curtain away? what remains of your husband, your lover, your friend? will he still have the same warm eyes and full cheeks? will his hands still fit in yours? his feet still step in time with yours? will he look the same, sound the same even? you swallow down this fear, and instead bask in the joy that he’s alive. your husband is alive. and nothing separates you. not a season, nor a wood. not time or conflict. only your fears.
and then they don’t. when you pull back the veil, nothing separates you but air. a soft man made gust as you reveal the man you’d once called your friend, only to call your betrothed and then yours. the fire barely lights the room yet still he glows. he lies bare from the waist up, his abdomen bandaged in rolls of cotton, his chest exposed. you watch it, the slow rise and fall of the place you longed to rest your head, you dreamt of dreaming on. before you realise, you have lowered yourself beside him, careful not to disturb him, nor his wound. before you can call for him he smiles. even in his state of slumber, he leans into your touch. before you meet his eyes, you feel his on you.
“you came.” he whispers, a heavy breath of relief escaping him as your thumb dusts his cheek.
“of course,” you try, before taking your lip between your teeth, fearful your tears might dampen his skin. you kneel at his side, carefully ridding yourself of your outer garments, before returning your hand to his cheek. “how do you feel?”
“now?” he smirks, wincing as a laugh runs through him. “wonderful.”
“and before?”
“so, so.” he murmurs with a kiss to your palm. “a sword to the stomach will do that to you.”
“do i have han jisung to thank for that?”
“no,” he coughs, recalling his sacrifice. “only me.”
“well that’s good,” you hum, employing the upmost care when leaning over him. “because i would hate to think my knight was blindsided.”
“never,” his assurance fans your lips, as yours hover over his. “only by you.”
you almost forgot how it felt to kiss him. the feeling only coming in dreams. there was no memory strong enough to conjure the feeling of his lips pressed against yours. the slow melt of tender skin on skin, the warmth, his gentle caress. his kiss is slow, but even in his prime he took his time. his lips close around yours with such timing and precision, ushering a slow burn of desire from the heels of your feet all the way up to the crown of your head. he knew how to expunge pain and fear from you, to free you from your demons, to reinvigorate you. to love you.
he’s weak. in all the worst ways. his body, his will. he raises his hand to your neck, pulling you closer as he presses his tongue between your lips, connecting the muscles with little intent of parting. he swallows around you, drinking you in, keeping that same, slow and teasing pace. only to pull you closer.
“you need your rest,” you pant into his mouth, resting all your weight on your arms as he pulls you back down, pinning your forehead to his.
“no,” he refuses, sweeping his thumb along your jaw. “i need you.” his voice shakes then, unlike him. unlike the man you know. “only you.”
“is that why you called me here?” you tease, silently wiping his tears away, silently reading the fear in his eyes. he begs them away though warms at your easy dispelling. “to use me?”
“my love,” he laughs, ignoring the pain in favour of basking in your smile. “you know i did not call for you.” when you move to argue, he recalls, as if he were there, “‘would taking just a horse quicken my arrival?’”
“i might have been here sooner if-”
“this,” raising his other arm, he gathers your face in his palms, “is soon enough.”
safe.
“okay.” you agree, allowing him to tug you closer once more. you let him kiss you without restraint. you let him curl his fingers into your neck, ignoring his wincing and kiss him through it. you let his grunts mask his pain, his teeth rolling your lip between the rows, you let him share it. you let him have you, because despite the odds he stayed alive. he stayed alive for you. and that was enough. “i love you.”
he blinks up at your shining eyes, guiding your wet cheeks to his puckered lips. “i love you,” he whispers back against your lips, feeling himself heal at just the touch of your hand. “only you.”
because only a season separated you. but now, not even a season could.
#so#changbin#seo changbin#changbin smut#changbin fluff#stray kids smut#stray kids fluff#dno if it counts as angst#stray kids au#ncitygirls#skz au#skz smut#skz changbin#lol it is angst#skz angst#changbin angst#stray kids angst
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dance - jeno x f reader
fluff, smut, 2.1k
jeno knows it’s bad, but he can’t help but reminisce on how this all began. he likes to torture himself by reliving the first night over and over. it always starts with the drunken taunts from his teammates, sullied further by his dismissal. ‘no way,’ he’d said. ‘i can’t go there.’ he remembers seeing your roommates hyping you up, followed closely by your misguided steps. even after his earlier reluctance, he still regrets not beating you to the jump, his friends’ clearing their throats, trying to act natural as you approached their booth.
he hated the setting: a grotty sports bar a town over from his college campus. it sold stale, cheap beer, triple vodka sours and served well past three am. this may not sound like the typical start to a love story, but it was a start all the same.
‘do you wanna dance?’ you asked in a painfully small voice, your emboldened strut paling in complete contrast to your timid yet gleaming gaze. jeno still can’t say where he found the courage to agree, but agree he did, nodding behind his beer before following you up to the sticky floor. somewhere along the way you had taken his hand in yours, in fear of losing him in the sea of sweaty bodies. in the musty wave of noughties hits with tacky modern spins, jeno managed to lose himself anyway. he hadn’t a clue where to put his hands, his eyes searching yours as you giggled up at him, cooing at his bewilderment.
so you led. placing his hand on your exposed waist, your top riding up as it hugged the skin beneath your rib. he felt you shiver under his touch, his fingers clenching minutely at the feeling. ‘is this okay?’ he’d yelled, though it came through as more of a whisper under the music. you didn’t respond, instead reaching for his other hand, squeezing it over the denim on your hip. jeno was spinning. not from dancing, and not from the amount he’d drank. he knew it wasn’t down to that, nor the dizzying motion of the lights, the thickness of the air or the pounding of the music. jeno knew it was you. your chest pressed flush to his, your eyes boring into his. he didn’t know when you’d started swaying, his body leaning, moving in time with the music and the others on the floor. he could hear the songs changing, feel the bass beneath his feet. there wasn’t much he could do but enjoy it.
much like he still does. as he drags you close to him, the rosie organza pleated around your chest pressed right up to his satin lapel. his confidence then pales in comparison to now. it only took a few months to see the change, one you nurtured in all the ways a man like jeno needed. in soft assurances and gentle praise. in delicate touches and the softest embraces. in ardent exchanges and steamy quickies.
but the trouble began this past winter. well, technically well before. as a child, jeno had spent his summers visiting his cousin jaemin in his hometown from before he could remember. there the two had fortified a friendship, a real brotherhood that jeno never would have gotten to experience without being cast away to the country every solstice. it was there he met his cousin’s neighbour, mark lee. mark lee, a kind kid with wide eyes and a wider smile, was the kind of kid everyone looked up to. he embodied what jeno typically thought to be an older brother. and he was. to his step sister and cousins, to kids in his neighbourhood, to jeno’s cousin jaemin and eventually to jeno. it’s why, this christmas just gone, when mark had approached jeno, with giddy eyes and a giddier smile, to ask him to be one of his groomsmen - not just due to the refusal of a painfully introverted jaemin - but because of a genuine brotherhood formed between the two, jeno’s big hearted self could not refuse.. bringing us back to where the trouble began.
‘so, are you bringing her to the wedding?’ mark questioned suddenly, his arm pushing through the sleeve of his tux. ‘you definitely shou- it’s a bit tight at the elbow, can you see?’
jeno still curses jaemin for opting out of being a groomsman, leaving jeno to deal with the trivialities of wedding prep. not that he has a real problem with it all. it’s just a fitting, he thought as he walked in, his eyes landing on the black silk hanging off the changing room door. it wasn’t until he realised it was just he and mark - the rest of the groomsmen opting to come on a later date - that he was regretting the decision. because even though no one would admit it to his face, mark was a bit of a groomzilla. less for the usual reasons. he wasn’t rude, short or angered by little inconveniences. he was just a man of superstition, faith, and insurmountable dubiety. he wanted everything to be perfect. he wanted to do as much of his part as he could for his wedding day. jeno thinks his fiancée had been right to leave him the task of the guest list. mark easily knew more people, so was naturally inundated with acquaintances. it was a great idea, jeno thought.. until mark kept- on- pushing- ‘i’ll even relieve you of your duties early, let you go off with her-’
‘thanks man,’ the younger tried, watching the tailor pinch the jacket at his waist. ‘but really, i don’t think i will. i’ll just bring my mom or something.’
‘your mom’s already invited man, you know that.’ jeno huffed at that. of course she is. mark did take his duties seriously after all. ‘couldn’t have her going off on me like jaemin did-’
‘are you comparing my mom to jaemin?’
‘i’m just saying-’ mark paused to thank the attendant, slipping back out of his jacket as he walked up to jeno, squeezing his shoulder. ‘you’ve got nothing to be nervous about, jen. you’re like a brother to me. you should bring her, i’d love to meet her.’
jeno flinches just thinking about it, his spine straightening as mark turned to him fully. jeno manages a shrug, turning back to the mirror just for a second before deciding that, no. no, it wouldn’t be a good idea to introduce his girl to his best friend on his wedding day.
because the issue wasn’t that he wouldn’t invite you.
‘you met her at college, right?’
the issue was that he couldn’t.
‘maybe y/n knows her?’
the issue is that you’re already going.
‘you know what my sister’s like, she gets on with everyone.’
“jen?” you pant, his name falling off your tongue as he bounces you quickly in his lap. “come back to me.” he smiles at your sweet call, your teeth catching his lip between them before slipping your tongue into his mouth.
the ceremony starts in ten minutes, though guests are still pouring into the church. it’s what actually convinced him. that and you, your manicured hand stuffing your damp panties into the pocket of his fitted tux. it had been his undoing, your sweeping frame gliding into a small side door a few feet from the altar.
the clock is ticking but you pay it no mind, your hips halting their rise and fall as you dig your heels into the masoned floor, grinding your hips back and forth as you ride him. you feel his nails dig painfully into your skin, his tongue wrapping around yours, swallowing your gasps as his other hand gathers your dress, the layers of delicate organza billowing over his knee. when your nails find his nape, careful not to mess up his perfectly styled do, you suck on his ear lobe, forcing him to thrust up into you.
“fuck-”
“shh!” you hiss, rushing to stuff the same panties you gifted him in his mouth. you hear his muffled groans, his cheeks hollowing as he sucks the essence of you onto his waiting tongue. he feels you clench harder around him, his eyes smiling in place of his occupied lips. he lifts a brow when your rocking falters, your eyes darting around his perfect face, incapable of taking in anything but him and how he makes you feel. there’s a question in his gaze, forcing your head to bob. “yeah- i’m close-”
he abandons your dress then, letting the material pool around you two as he presses his palm to your neck, bringing your mouth to his. it’s a quick and steep descent to your release, your thighs burning as he slams you up and down on his cock, your skin clapping against his as he abandons all reason. he’s kept it quiet for so long, at times he thinks it might consume him from the inside out, all this love he has for you. all jeno really wants is to scream it out from the highest mountain top, tattoo it to his forehead, paint it on the fucking moon. hell, he would pay anyone to listen. he didn’t care who. he’d tell anyone who’d listen that he, lee jeno, was in love with y/n y/l/n.
“i love you too,” you almost cry, jaw unhinged as you feel the effects of his thrusts and affection rip through you. it spreads through you like wildfire, setting every nerve in you alight before it finally consumes him. your heat pumps and pushes him past his release, his heavy load pouring out into you. you milk him through it, your temple pressed to the crown of his head.
it’s the church bells that rip you apart, your whole body cringing as realisation hits. you cringe further as his flushed face fills your vision, his hands gathering your dress again before further staining your panties as he wipes between your legs. “don’t look at me like that.”
“like what?”
“like it’s worse for you than it is for me.” you’re about to ask how when he moves away from you, closing his eyes as he wraps it up before shoving it back in his pocket. “i said don’t.”
“fine, i won’t-” your surrender is cut short when knuckles strike the door three times, jaemin’s sign to wrap it up. “shit, let’s go-” you try to leave but can’t. because suddenly he’s stopping you, his warm hand loosely wrapped around your wrist.
“let’s tell him.”
“tell who what-”
“mark.” jeno used to hate acknowledging the striking similarities between you and your step brother. much like the unwon battle of the chicken and the egg: which came first? which of you taught the other that when your eyes enlarge, rounding into porcelain saucers, two full moons nearly eclipsing him, that he’d give you anything?
“today?” when he nods, you want to laugh. but he looks so confident. so sure. “jen, are you sure?”
“i am,” his affirmation makes your heart swell, even before he continues. “i’m sure about you.”
he knows where your uncertainties lie. but you affirm it too. “i’m sure about you too.” you both seem to forget the wedding in that moment, both neglecting the importance of your bridal party roles in favour of basking in one another for even a second longer. “only if you save me a dance?”
“always.” so much so, you don’t register the sound of the confessional door swinging open when jeno leans in to kiss to your forehead, his bitten lips pressing to the skin as his eyes land on a pair not too dissimilar to the ones he’d just poured his heart out to.
mark seems to short circuit for a second that seems to last hours. “mom’s looking for you,” he announces, spluttering around the words as you immediately grab jeno by the hand and drag him out the confessional. you both duck your heads as you shuffle past jaemin, who looks beyond pissed you didn’t heed his earlier warning.
when you both disappear, your brother turns on jaemin, eyes wide as full moons. “you knew!” it only angers him more when jaemin nods, unflinching when mark starts slapping his arm. “he told you and you didn’t tell me?”
“nuh-uh,” the younger defends, straightening out the groom’s lapel as he reverently shuts the confessional door. “i figured it out.” mark looks bewildered at the notion it had been so obvious. jaemin has to remind himself it’s mark’s day and not to be too harsh. “come on, hyung. he wouldn’t tell us her name, wouldn’t let us meet her.” mark still looks stunned. “don’t get me started on how many times they pulled this shit last christmas-”
and to think. it all started with a dance.
#jeno#nct jeno#nct dream#nct dream smut#nct smut#nct fluff#nct dream fluff#jeno fluff#jeno smut#nct au#ncitygirls
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belong - chan x f reader
fluff, smut, 2.8k
when your lover called on you, the bells in your heart rung. chan invited you to his home for an evening spent together in the sweet peace of the one another’s company. upon your arrival, he greeted you with pure admiration in his eyes, a youthful wonderment sweeping over him as he gazed upon your person, pulling you into his embrace where you belong.
he took your hand, dusting his lips across your knuckles as he whispered, “i missed you, love.”
“and i you.” it’s not often you admit that time spent away from chan adds painfully to your longing, this much is evidenced by his wide eyed surprise. “i have spent every second counting down until we would meet again.”
“oh?” he gasps, believing not a word. “maybe hypnos might finally stop by now that you have come.”
“maybe breath will finally enter my lungs! and food settle in my stomach!”
“my love, if we are of such detriment to ourselves when apart,” he mumbles against your lips as he captures them sweetly. “then perhaps we mustn’t part again.”
“not ever?”
“not ever,” and so, with your indefinite union confirmed, chan ushers you into his home. you quickly note the sheet music that customarily garnishes every corner of the black oak table is now stacked neatly to the side. in their place are gold lined porcelain dinner plates, and sat atop them are a meal you know your lover did not prepare. “i know what you are readying yourself to say, so i feel i must confess something.”
“please do.”
“the lees did assist me with the preparation of this meal,” he lies as you turn to him. “you do not believe me? my love, i take great offence.”
“one can only find offence in the truth, chan.”
“fine,” he sighs, kindly untucking your seat. “the lees prepared the meal.” his confession is rewarded with the softest kiss to his dimpled cheek, deepening the indent greatly. “but i did prepare the table!”
“and had you not, the meal would not look half as inviting,” your praise, though clearly meant in jest, still colours the tips of his ears.
“lest you plan for my head to swell to twice its size, i suggest you stop.”
you press your hand to his cheek, the soft skin warming your palm as you turn his face towards you. “surely that is just more of you to love, is it not?”
“goodness. u are like a god sent spring during drought! love just pours from you. surely i am not this worthy,” he ponders aloud. he rests his forehead on yours, settling his eyes on your lips, he trains his pounding heart to beat in time with your breathless chortles. “what did I do to deserve you?”
as you shrug, you lean up, capturing his lips with yours, offering up the most delicate of pecks. the motion is dizzying, and the pace moreso. his fingers grip your side almost painfully, his wandering thumb finding the skin of your hip, drawing the tiniest circles. your tongue finally slips between his teeth before he pulls away. “the lees would not be happy to learn how we have treated their meal.”
“that you plated,” you remind, squeezing his arms in want. “and a plated meal can be reheated. hell, a plated meal can be unplated!”
“is this a want or a need?” chan suddenly asks, watching your teeth catch your lip. raising his thumb once dragging along the band of your knickers, he tugs at the trapped lip, freeing it from restraint. “i asked you a question.”
“it’s a want,” you admit shamefully, your hunger amplified with another whiff of the cooling dinner.
“a want can wait.” without another word, chan releases you, waiting patiently so he can tuck your seat in. once you are seated, he tucks himself in at the table’s head, reaching for your hand to his right. “go ahead, angel.”
you can only nod as you reach for your polished fork before scooping up the braised pork and buttered mash. he grins as you moan, the sound oddly innocent as you slowly begin to regain your appetite. he frees your hand as you reach for your knife, settling it instead on your knee, squeezing before he attacks his meal. as you make your own ways through dinner, you settle into a comfortable silence, both happily welcoming any intermittent interruptions. he speaks in part of his long work week spent apart from you, you speak in part of the gruelling work week spent apart from him. you both speak of family, sharing thoughtless yet meaningful tidings. you speak of friends, of gossip and news as he updates you on the lees’ plans to finally go into business together.
“how does hyunjin feel about it? he, minho and felix, were they not in talks about a dance company?” you speak with your lips perched on the rim of your glass, never forgetting a detail chan offers up. and though this at times works to his detriment, he cannot help but smile as he nods, gleeful at your continued interest in his companions.
“hyunjin wishes them well. of course he sulked for days, but he sees their passion and respects their wishes.” chan watches as you nod, acquainted well enough with the man to understand. “but he expects shares.”
“as he should!’ you punctuate your point with a final stab at your dinner, chewing the cooling carrot far too aggressively for how well it had been prepared.
“must everyone be compensated for broken promises?” he asks, reaching for your cleared dinner plate. “that hardly seems just.”
“is that not the very underpinnings of law?”
“so that makes it just?” he asks, returning to his seat with wine before pulling you onto his lap.
“well,” you start, grabbing your glass and straddling your lover. “it depends who is profiting.”
“consider this,” placing his wine down, he rests his open hands on your thighs, “when i make you mrs. bang—”
“when?”
“yes, when,” he emphasises with a sweet kiss to the junction of your neck and shoulder, trailing his nose up the column of your neck. “should you change your mind, must i hold you accountable?”
“i would never change my mind,” you state, rendering his analogy futile. “being mrs. bang would be the honour of a lifetime.”
“you are insufferable,” he breathes, his warming forehead pressed to your shoulder. “for the sake of my analogy, say that were not the case. say being mrs bang was unliveable, the biggest regret of one’s life. should you be accountable for leaving?”
“annulment is a fickle thing, chan. there are so many other factors involved.” you predict the question on his tongue, so you proceed to list them. “wealth, health, kin, religion, intimacy—”
“we won’t have that problem.”
“we won’t have any of those problems,” you correct. “will we, mr bang?”
“no,’ he agrees, pulling your frame further up his lap, “none.” there’s a pause where he regards you with an insurmountable confusion, as if regarding you for the first time again. “you never did tell me what I did to deserve you?”
“it isn’t for me to tell,” and therein lies his issue, his desperation to remedy his thanklessness, to express his unyielding gratitude for the blessing that is his lover. if he knew what he did, then he might know what to keep doing. “just enjoy me.”
“i intend to do just that,” he breathes against your skin, lips dragging along the bone of your jaw.
it is impossible not to squirm. his touch is at the best of times manageable, yet at the worst, insufferable. his fingernails press moons into your neck and thigh, firming his grip on your nape and dragging your hips down onto his crotch. the friction is hot and reeling, the slide of his cock along your clothed folds, slowly milking him whilst displaying his restraint. you detest his chosen pace, it is all the things you simultaneously love and loathe about your partner. his mature approach to love making and his need to drag out every moment beyond what is absolutely necessary. you begin setting your own pace, digging your heels into the ground as you roll against his length. the pleasure is short lived.
“it would serve you well to hold still,” he pours into your mouth, the beginnings of a smirk tainting even the purest parts of his face. he makes it increasingly difficult to follow his generous warning, as he frees your neck and grabs the table for leverage, dragging his groin against you, readily instigating your demise. “i can be fair, y/n. just tell me what it is you desire?”
“you, chan.”
“but you have all of me,” he reminds, guiding your hand to the warm space between you, tightening your grip around his heavy length. “all of me is yours, so speak plainly.”
“i want you to—“ he lets a single digit pass between your clothed folds, soaking the fabric and the pad of his finger. your eyes slowly follow his movements, the lone finger sucked into the warmth of his mouth. “chan, please.”
“how can you beg for that which you have not asked?”
“fuck me.” he reels at your embarrassment, the warmth on your cheeks warming his neck as you burrow out of view. “please,” your breathy plea fills the shell of his ear as you drag yourself along his lap. “is that not the reason you asked me here?”
his laughter fills the air as he kicks out his chair, your combined weight tugging at the carpet. “not entirely,” he admits candidly, lifting you both in a swift motion. “i do enjoy time spent in your company.”
“well, of course,” you agree, clinging to him as he moves through his home, covering more ground with every kiss he offers to your neck. “but my company can allow for a multitude of activities.”
“a multitude you say?” he places you gently atop his sheets, your weight forcing a sensual warm oak to waft through the room. his hands settle firmly by your head, his elbows collapsing to barely rest his weight on you, eliminating any and all space. his gleaming eyes bore into your own, the tip of his nose gliding along the bridge of your own. “you mightn’t believe it, but I am a simple man. i am happy to settle for one.”
“and which one might that be?”
his head lolls dumbly from left to right, allowing but a second to pass before he gives you his answer. rows of pearl capture his lip as he lowers himself, slow sensual grinds of his hips reveal his thoughts like no words could. his hooded eyes drink the creases in your face, the waves of pleasure coursing through you as he passes between your folds. the air thickens tenfold, your pants fanning his lips as you succumb to the movements of your lover.
“chan—“ your whine draws a devious grin on his face. you feel his palm rest on your cheek, his thumb running along your jaw down to your chin where he tugs, no words nor force required to tell you what he wants.
“may i?” he breathes into your mouth, tongue rolling in his own, collecting what you unknowingly crave. you nod once, leaning up to meet his lips as he leans back. the saliva gathered on his tongue slowly passes from between his lips into your open mouth. his eyes follow the string that connects you both as you swallow, your breath faltering as his eyes drag up to gaze at you. the hunger you’re met with would force your knees together, only his own keep them apart. “i’m going to give you what you want now,” he promises, fingers tugging at your panties. “and I know you can take it,” he affirms as he slides a finger in you, grinning as you whine. “i just need to make sure.”
he pumps his finger slowly, dragging the pad languidly against your walls, his thumb circling your clit. be laughs at the tremble in your thighs, how little restraint you have always exhibited. it has always been this way. your neediness bursting through the seams, rendering his own restraint powerless. especially as your fingers toy with his waistband, fist closing around his leaking tip. your palm rolls against his slit, the heel gathering his precum as you slide against his tip. he struggles with his weight over you, his forehead pressed to your own as he winds his length between your closed fist. his lips suck on your tongue, teeth clashing, when he feels a familiar ripple of heat pass through his veins.
“baby,” he huffs, stills his hips and his fingers. “is this what you want?”
“no,” you whine, humping against his hand and pumping him all the same. “but it is you i want,” you pant, chasing a high you know your lover will never give you. “it’s you i need.”
at that he pulls your hand from him, ready to fulfil his duty as your love, to give you all the things you want and need. he shows no haste removing his clothes, buckle hitting the floor, trousers and undergarments gently kicked down his legs. he takes a modicum of time on you however. his hands glide down your sides as he frees you of your sticky underwear, hiking up your skirt as he pumps his cock. lining himself up with your slit, he gazes down at you, his doting expression in stark contrast with his bare form.
“i love you, angel,” he breathes, eyes shining as he pecks at your cheek, nose, lips.
“and i you,” you breathe in kind, choking up as he sheathes himself within your walls. he sighs as you take him, your hot folds sucking him in as he slips his tongue between your lips, swallowing your whimpers. as he bottoms out he pulls away, watching your eyes gleam in want before he snaps his hips, denouncing all fatigue. “oh, chan—”
he grunts as his name falls off your tongue, your mind and body at a loss for thoughts besides those of your lover. as he pounds into you, his tip hitting your g-spot perfectly, forcing your mouth open. unintelligible moans fill the air, though he hears you calling out for him. for the most part, he hears your lustful grumbles of inexplicable pleasure. he needn’t decipher them, nor does he try. he just basks in them, his groans falling into your open mouth, the odd praise passing between your lips as does his tongue, his spit, his praise, his tongue, his spit. he uses you, as you so wish. he fucks harder into you as you fall further into delirium, pleasure rippling through you with every snap of his hips. he watches you gasp for air, gulping around his saliva, watery eyes pleading for him.
“tell me what you want.”
“i want to cum,” you whine, clinging to his tired arms as he deepens his thrusts, rolling his length into you in short, sharp motions. “please, channie.”
he feels you clench around him, his movements growing slow with each passing second. there are moments when he slips, his fist guiding himself back to you, his fingers pressed to your stomach, thumb circling your clit. he feels you teeter to the edge. your pussy closing tighter as he gathers your release, sliding his thumb harshly over your clit, fucking even faster into you as you pass into ecstacsy. his teeth clench at the base of your throat, the combined stimulation drawing your orgasm from you. all that fills the air is your gargles, his name falling off your tongue in a chant, coated in gratitude and adoration. in love. chan follows you to euphoria. his hips stutter as you milk him. His arms weakened, he rests his forehead on your temple, chasing a high only you can conjure. one that draws out grunts of gratitude, of adoration. of love.
moments pass in sticky silence. pants filling the air as the afterglow sets in, the air stagnant as the pungent smell of sex fills the room. he welcomes the short seconds of peace, but he must break it.
“move in with me.” his motives on evenings like this were never too clear, not even to himself. but chan had not lied. every moment in your presence makes your absence all the more unthinkable. sleep comes easy when you are near. he dreams sweetly when you are here. he leans over to remove your blouse, freeing you from the damp material. as he does, he gazes into your eyes, speaking softly of all the nights you could spend doing just this. all the nights you have wasted not doing this. all the ways you could spend the nights in between. all the mornings he could spend with you and you with him. “you belong with me,” he breathes, lips pressed to your knuckles as his fingers trail up and down your arms. he stills, realising he might lull you into slumber, if his words had not already done so when you speak.
“how could i not know?” you ask, splitting his pretty face with a grin. “i belong with you.”
#um illvebangchansomuchomg#bang chan#chan#skz chan#bang chan fluff#bang chan smut#chan fluff#chan smut#stray kids fluff#stray kids smut#skz fluff#skz smut#skz au#ncitygirls#needs a proofread
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mine (yours pt 2) - jaemin x f reader
fluff, angst?, suggestive, f2l, yours pt 1
a stifling dread has been following you all week long. it’s hard to describe. it feels a lot like drowning: a hot thick uncertainty flooding your lungs, tightening your chest. it’s hard because not once have you ever dreaded seeing jaemin, your- well, that’s the thing. what is jaemin?
he’s your friend, that much you know. from as early as you can remember, jaemin’s light has painted every one of your best memories. he has long been one third of your perfect trio. his calmer, more nurturing demeanour a perfect match to your tough exterior and mark’s more naive disposition. his kind eyes and warm smile stain every dream you’ve had, brightened every dark fear and warmed every cold word. jaemin’s presence alone has remedied every single ache and pain. jaemin is your friend.
but he is also your best friend. so you doubt what you’re feeling is dread but rather that same uncertainty, a fear of the unknown. mark keeps assuring you that this feeling is normal, says it’s part and parcel with trying to navigate this new terrain you’re both entering. that anyone would feel what you’re feeling, that it isn’t unique to you. yet you asked what jaemin had felt, he had said nothing. he shut his smiling lips with a pop. one full of shame and insurmountable pity. because jaemin was nothing if not sure. he was nothing if not certain. jaemin know what he was. which brings you to what you’re not yet ready to call jaemin, what mark has already taken to calling jaemin, and what jaemin has taken to calling himself-
“hey,” your boyfriend sings from his spot where he stands tall at your front door step, his hands clasped behind his back. the pose doesn’t last long, his arm extending forward to reveal a slim bouquet, lilacs dotted between pink camellias. he slips them into your hand as you gaze up at him, your eyes squinting suspiciously. “what?”
“nothing.” you lower your head, in part to inhale their samey scent, but in larger part to hide the smile he already knows you’re wearing. you step aside as he steps forward, making way for him to enter, but he doesn’t. “changed your mind? you not coming in?” you laugh, waving your free hand into your hallway, but he doesn’t budge, a soft smirk stealing his lips. “what?”
“nothing,” he sings, grinning as he mocks you. you glare playfully as he raises his hand, his fingers gently pinching your chin before he leans in. he closes his lips around yours ever so slightly, pressing ever so softly. he huffs as you kiss back, your fingers loosening around the small arrangement. when he pulls away, you whine before shying away from his glowing face. “can i come in?”
“i just said to-”
“i just said to,” jaemin, who has pushed past you, ducks out the way of your flying fist, as he mocks you once again. you shut the door with your hip before following him to the living room. he’s already made himself at home in the small space, his sneakers slipped off by the hallway rug, his jacket hanging off the back of your desk chair. you move to pass him on the couch, only to fall backwards, your back meeting his chest as he tugs you into his lap. “where you running off to?” he asks, holding you firmly in place. “i missed you.”
“to the kitchen,” gulping quickly, you pray the small swallow would somehow soothe your beating heart. you let your head fall to his shoulder, leaning further into him as his fingers glide along your sides. “and how can you miss me, we hung out yesterday,” you sigh, relaxing into the press of his lips to your temple.
“mhm,” he’s removing your apron, eliminating any and all things that might aid in your departure. “i know that, i was there,” you feel his smirk on your skin, paired with a squeeze to your hips. “i could have seen you an hour ago and still miss you now.”
“simp.” the insult falls easily from your lips, though you curse yourself a bit for it. for with it comes the long, drawn out laughter you think has you falling further and further in love with na jaemin. your best friend. your boyfriend.
it all started at mark’s wedding. or so you had thought. for you it had been watching jaemin charm the older members of your family, or entice the younger ones, even aggravate a few in between. there was something about that night that made you see jaemin as more than what he was. whether it be your friend, ready to spin you every which way on the dance floor just to keep you company. or your best friend, ready to do the same, just to keep you from bludgeoning your family to death. or maybe more, ready to do the same, just to make you happy. jaemin was prepared to do any and everything it took to make you feel even an ounce of how you did him. to burn your skin by touch alone, arouse your senses, bring you to the brink of all feeling and emotion, make you fall. for you, this all started then. for jaemin? the start had been gradual, yet all at once.
it was a slow ascent of feelings that never once plateaued. feelings that only grew and grew, that just kept intensifying beyond what one would ever think possible. how can anybody love someone this much? to the point days turned to weeks in their absence, sweetest dreams incomparable to moments spent in their company, their heart swelling till it bulged out the gaps between their ribs. how can jaemin love you so much words quickly lost value, to the point even actions aren’t enough? jaemin can spend hours pouring every emotion he could verbalise into you, before pounding the very same emotions into you. with soft spoken gasps, with languid rolls of his hips. jaemin utilised everything he could to show you he loved you. and yet still, nothing was enough to show you he was yours.
he sees your fears in how you quickly run from his safe embrace, schooling yourself as quickly as you’d let yourself slip. his fingers had finally laid waste to your apron, his nails dragging slowly over your andomen. he hugged as you gasped, your hips pressing into his lap, his lips puckering over the the soft skin of your neck, sucking ever so slightly. “jaem,” you whine, fingers gripping tighter on his thighs, nails curving into his skin through the rips. he just grunts in your ear, one hand grinding you further into his crotch, the other snaking up your blouse to your erect nipple. something about it snaps you back to reality. his hands on you, milking pleasure from you as easily as he’d done at the wedding. “the food.” you rush, pushing yourself off his lap and heading straight for your kitchenette.
jaemin just watches you go, panting as you disappear behind the adjacent pillar, leaving him all flustered. if he’d been a betting man, he’d have just made a fortune. jaemin foresaw your departure before he’d ever pulled you in, his heart yearning to hold you firm between his palms. but he just has to laugh, watching you flit back and forth over the counter tops. he prides himself in knowing you so well, knowing your tells, your habits, your peeves. jaemin knows this is a lot for you, it always kind of has been. it took getting used to, all his attention, but now his sudden overt affection was proving laborious. you reject it firmly in public, but let him have his way in private. or so he thought. because since mark’s wedding, you’ve not let jaemin get further than some light petting and humping. which he can’t fault you for. you’d wanted things to go slow, and he’d give it to you. jaemin would give you anything you wanted if it means one day being yours.
but how long did you expect him to ignore the red raw love he has brewing more and more for you each waking hour? because another second without you feels like an hour, and jaemin is starving.
“here you go-” you place a bowl of plain rice before him, grinning as he squeezes your wrist in thanks. “let me get the chilli.”
“okay,” he breathes, relinquishing you with a soft kiss to the inside of your wrist. it’s then jaemin sees nothing of his minor affection has changed, if anything you seem to cling to it, prefer it even. “it smells delicious.”
“thank you,” you sing, serving him two heaped spoon fulls before running for cheese and wine. “i made it special.” he points towards himself, a silent ‘for me?’ in his gaze. “mhm.” jaemin sprints through the meal without a word, his palm laid gently over the skin of your knee as he wolfed down the entire bowl. “damn, don’t choke, jaem.”
“you know i have to finish my food hot.” he laughs, waiting patiently for you to finish before he pushes your shoulder back down when you rise to clear the table. “i’ve got it,” he mumbles against the skin of your cheek, dragging his lip to the shell of your ear. “more wine?”
words escape you when he’s so close, your head bobbing as you hand your glass to him, squeezing his arm. it’s a lot to get used to. a version of jaemin you’s never imagined seeing, a level of affection you hadn’t ever prepared for. it’s overwhelming in the best ways. he has this hypnotic allure. it drenches every word he speaks, every move he makes. his every action warrants an overthought reaction. a kiss to your palm, something you once ignore, even laughed at is now stored in the depths of your heart, stowed away from times in his absence, then jaemin was busy, when his time wasn’t yours. jaemin’s seemingly sudden confession has pushes you so far toward the brink of madness, you wonder whether this has been his plan all along.
especially as you sit perched on his lap, straddled over his thick thighs. he listens carefully as you recount your day, his eyes flickering over the short hairs of your lash, probably counting, taking in the various flecks in your eyes. “and then i had to put her in timeout.”
“no,” he gasps, the perfect amount of shock in his tone. “lina? but she’s your favourite.”
“not anymore,” you grumble, eyes dropped to where your fingers fiddle with the hem of his shirt. “she didn’t talk to me for the rest of the day.”
“really?” as in love with you as he is, as he has always been, jaemin does sometime wonder how it got so bad. because if it was anyone else, he’d be hysterical, tears pouring and he laughed off the worry they put into a classroom argument between two four year olds. but it’s not just anyone. it’s you. your classroom. your four year olds. so, instead of laughing, he let’s himself sigh, his eyes locked on the small tremor in your pouted lip. because it’s not just anyone’s problem, it’s yours. and if it’s yours, then it’s his. so he moves your hand from his shirt, wraps his hands around your closed fists and pulls them up around his neck. he hates himself for enjoying your skin on his. he can’t even cringe as your wet cheek meets his neck, your sniffles more his concern. “it’ll be okay.”
“no, it won’t,” you cry, arms winding around his neck as you breathe in his scent. “she’s a really smart girl, she won’t forget. she’ll never forgive me.”
“yes, she will,” he hums, his hands gliding up and down your back. “kids change like the weather,” he reminds, enjoying how you feel pressed to his chest. “and you’re her favourite too.”
“probably not anymore.”
“well you’re mine,” he admits. well, it’s hard to admit something everyone knows. it’s also hard to ignore the feeling it incites, his words like a warm repellant forcing your body up straight. he grins when you glare at him, your tear stained cheeks drawing his thumbs to your cheek. he only speaks as he drugs the same thumb over your still pouting lip. “what?”
“you’re enjoying this.”
“a little,” he pulls you back to his chest, rocking you side to side. “it’s hard to get you like this anymore.” he slows when you stiffen, your head craning up to meet his blank stare. he sees the question in your eyes, a soft glare he’s seen before but the meaning entirely changed. “it’s just been a while since we’ve been like this.”
“well, that’s your fault,” you breathe, only seeing your mistake as he straightens. it’s never easy hiding from jaemin, because he never makes it easy. before you can avoid his gaze, it’s piercing you. his fingers clasp behind your neck, his thumbs slid under your jaw, anchoring you with his gaze.
“what’s my fault?” he asks, an unsettling peace coating his words, a soft click sounding under his tongue. “what’s my fault, y/n?”
“this! the fact we aren’t the same anymore.”
“what changed?”
“you-” it sticks in your throat as he gazes down at you, watching the realisation his you in an oddly comedic fashion. jaemin hadn’t changed. nothing about him had changed. jaemin gave you all of him, yes, but he always had. jaemin gave you every bit of himself you just didn’t know you had. he was always yours. so what had changed? “me,” you breathe, watching him soften as your eyes gleam up at him. “i-i’ve changed. haven’t i?”
he shrugs softly, his smile even softer. “a bit.”
“a bit?” you cry, eyes wide as he grins dumbly at you. “oh my god, jaem. it’s me.”
“no it isn’t-”
“no, it is! it’s me!” he holds you tighter when you try retreat, your body repelling his affection, feeling so undeserving. “jaem it’s me, i just-i just miss you so much, all the time. and-and i don’t know why. and it’s not like you’ve gone anywhere. you’re here. but you’re not you anymore, and i’m not me. we’re this, we-we’re different now. and-and i don’t know what it means for us. i don’t get what we are.”
“we’re whatever we want to be,” he laughs when you scoff. “what’s wrong with that?”
“you make it sound so easy.”
“it could be,” he shrugs, pressing his forehead to yours as he keeps cradling your warm face in his cool hands. “tell me what you want.”
“i want you.” he swells with pride at your firmness, the words warming him before you add, “i want us. i want us to be how we always were. i want my best friend jaemin,” you watch him nod, the light leaving his eyes before you add again, “but that’s because you’re mine. i mean, you were always mine right? i guess i’m just trying to figure out what that all means.”
“it means,” he mumbles against your forehead, smoothing the skin with a kiss. “we’re exactly the same. i’m still jaemin. you’re still y/n,” he assures you, watching the crease in your brow melt away as he rubs along your jaw. “it’s just, instead of being jaemin and y/n, we’re jaemin and y/n.”
“right,” you nod, barely following, but you nod all the same. “but that’s how we always were.”
“exactly. so there’s nothing to be scared of.”
“i guess,” you agree, sighing softly as he kisses your forehead, “except now i’m yours too.”
“yeah?” he breathes, eyes shining “you’re mine?”
“mhm,” you affirm, shying away from his watery gaze. “i think that’s what’s changed. it’s kind of a lot of pressure.”
“if it helps,” he whispers, lips dragging to the skin beneath your ear. “i’m not taking anyone else for the role. ever.”
“you sure?” his lips pucker at the skin there, sucking softly when you sigh.
“i’m sure.” well, not exactly. he’s yours.
#what even is this#anybody else wanna be jaemin’s? get in line#na jaemin#jaemin#jaemin fluff#jaemin smut#jaemin angst#nct angst#nct smut#nct fluff#nct dream smut#nct dream angst#nct dream fluff#nct au#nct jaemin#ncitygirls
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pink - mark x gn reader
fluff, smut, cw: submissive!mark, 2k
The concept of colour is an intriguing one. Much like seeing, seeing itself is intriguing. Intriguing as well is the notion that seeing is believing when the blind trust so fiercely. They must trust the yellow of the sun resembles the middle of daisies, and runny yolk. They must trust the red of a ruby resembles that of flowing blood. They must trust that at any given time, the blue painting the skies can resemble that of bluebells, blueberries, and all blue things.
The concept of colour is not an admissible one. It is convoluted and complex. The pink of a rose, of a poked eye, of a healing wound, of a stained linen. They all contain a bounty of hues; some dimmer, paler, or truer than others. They all carry their own meaning, things we assign and ascribe to an item; be it clothing, furniture, text. The point to all this is, you do not think you will ever be able to truly explain how perfect the pink that colours Mark’s lips is. You try every morning you are fortunate to wake beside him - when you are first to wake that is. You peel open your eyes one by one, blinking away sleep and tears from the strobes scorching your corneas, falling victim to the allure of sunlight that lures you from your dreams, only to wake to another.
Pink. It is too simple a word to describe the creases in his lips that sit a couple shades darker, not enough to call magenta nor red. Every morning, you ache to run your fingers along the ridges, to rouse him from sleep, punish him like the rising sun did you. You never do. You lay there, watching as silent breaths cause the rise and fall of your lover’s chest, perturbed by the riddle that curses you every other morning.
How does one describe the indescribable?
It is your job no? To spread word of such wonder. A man who proves the existence of a higher power. A man whose face cannot be a product of the algorithms of colliding comets, nor of destiny. Hands of an omniscient being carved this face, moulded him into the wonder that you wake to every morning. That pink is not just pink. It is a perfect combination of the richest red and a waxen white. God needn’t have spent long, given his almightiness, but he did spend more time than on others. For that reason you think it selfish to waste this time, to roll out of bed and busy yourself with the trivial, menial tasks of readying for work. No, you must solve this riddle. You must find a way to proclaim what you have thought since the very first moment you laid eyes on Mark Lee.
“How are you real?”
One glance and he knew you hadn’t meant to ask it aloud. It is a regular action you do in regards to him; thanking God for the blessing that was Mark Lee’s creation. It occurs at all hours of the day, both verbal and non verbal, physical and non-physical alike. Whether it be the sudden airiness in your laughter, or twirling strands of his hair betwixt your fingers. Every time your eyes settle on his face, your senses heighten while your sense diminishes.
“Morning, angel,” he mumbles, tugging you from your angelic pose on his chest and pulling your lips to his. He offers you just a press, but should it be your last, it would still be enough. Mornings spent in his company always make for an easier start, one full of wistful goodbyes but wishful hellos. “Did you sleep well?”
“Yes,” your lips fall to his toned pec, offering scattered pecks. “Did you?”
Mark hums groggily, head falling to his pillow, failing to follow your sudden flurry of kisses. He finds the energy to speak just as your lips closed around his hardened nipple, as you begin to suck ever so slightly. His hands find your hips, clinging onto your frame as you kiss a path down his chest, marking his skin on your descent. “It’s almost eight,” he regrets to inform you, wishing nothing more than to enjoy this extended dream. “Won’t you be late?”
You show no signs of stopping, journeying south at a most leisurely speed. He relinquishes his hold on you, instead finding purchase in the bed linens, his fingers clasping around the duck down feathers. When your lips suddenly leave him, Mark fears the worst, that his reminder had a delayed effect. That is reluctant warning, seemingly good deed is now working against him. He soon finds his concerns were in vain as your lips close around the clothed head of his cock, sucking long and hard on the darkened material. His hips rise toward your mouth, chasing the stimulation you offer up to the deity beneath you, the one you call Mark. The one you call yours.
Your fingers grip his waistband, slowly lowering the material to the tops of his calves. His hot length meets the cool air with a hiss, his jaw tightening as you offer a languid tug from his base to his tip. A strangled moan fills the air, coating either end of your name. As you slowly pump him within your closed fist, you admire how the morning light always caught the beautiful tone of his arms, the shadows casting over his chest. He is more firm beneath your palm, more concrete, more real. When he casts his gaze toward you finally, finding some room for restraint within your steady pace, he allows himself to admire the gentle knit of your brows, the smirk upturning your lips as his breathing changes when you tighten your fist. He gasps when your eyes fly back up to his, your fist stilled at the base of his abdomen, a silent question in your eyes, a small lick at your lips.
He nods, watching you lower your weight, resting on his tensed thighs. He is breathless, eyes stuck on the plumpness of your lips, your pink tongue sweeping over your bottom one, teeth catching the skin as you run your closed fist over his cock once more, gripping tighter as he mewls.
Words escape him as he offers up devout concentration to his breathing, praying he does not crumble under the warmth of your touch and sweetness in your eyes. His eyes squeeze shut when you thumb his slit, a hard shudder passing through his bones, his hips bucking in time with your closed fist. Mark whines beneath you, the patience he forces is admirable, his whitened knuckles gleam as they blend in with the cloud of sheets. And still you wait, feeling his skin burn as his precum gathers in your palm, squelching in the air.
“Minhyung,” you breathe suddenly, fearful you might shatter the moment. “Are you ready?”
“Yeah,’ he chokes out in response. ‘I want you, please.’
You chortle at his sweet plea, capturing the skin of his thigh in a slow kiss as you pump him harder, puckering your lips along the skin at his base as his thrusts start to increase. “Slow down for me,” you whisper. Mark loves what you are doing, reducing him to the shell of himself as you lure his first orgasm of the day from him. He grips your hand then, ready to chase a release he knows you will not give him.
“Please,” he begs softly, skin a flaming pink, lined by the morning light and in a light dew.
Pressing a final, fleeting kiss to his tip he wishes to chase, you release him, drawing his brows together as you slow down before climbing off of his lap. He frowns as you kneel beside the bed before patting his shin, “come ‘ere.”
He bites his tongue, stuffing it in his cheek, “I know you’re teasing me.”
“No,” you laugh, “you’re just impatient,” you coo, watching as he follows your instruction anyway, shuffling to the edge of the bed. You tug his pants down to his ankles before you are hovering over his cock, admiring the gleam as the light reflects off his slick head. He sighs as you do, your breath cooling his angry tip, a twitch running through his cock as you just hover. He almost whines again when you pucker around his slit, the tip of your tongue passing over it ever so slightly.
His sweet moans fill the air, his breaths laboured as you tease him, lapping at his shaft as he toys with your hair, moving it aside so he can see you. He watches you take him, burying his lithe cock between the hot confines of your mouth before sucking around him, humming as he mewls beneath you. He assigns no time to keeping himself together, instead admiring how quickly you render him powerless. How you swirl your tongue around him, pump him as you suckle on his head, swallowing around him. He is completely at your mercy, his cum threatening to pour down your throat as you push on his abdomen, sending his back into the mattress. He huffs as he falls, sighing as his stolen release is remedied by your cool, slick coated finger prodding at his puckered hole.
His moans are unintelligible, garbled mumbles filling the air as you glide your finger into his ass, curling ever so slightly as you pump the digit. “I think I-,” he starts, unsure how, or just unable to finish.
“It’s okay, Mark,” you breathe on his cock, curling your finger harder with every suck you offer his leaking tip. “It’s okay, you can come.”
“Fuck- I’m-” his voice escapes him before he can help it, the mere thought of it forcing you to suck harder. His release tears through him like molten iron, encrusting his every nerve, setting him alight. His cum coats your throat as he bucks into your mouth, your name barely comprehensible as it pours from his lips. It is pleading, prayer like, something you repel. It was Mark who was God like. Mark who was heavenly.
He humps up into your mouth while grinding down on your finger, milking himself, using you, silently forbidding himself to succumb to the oversensitivity of his orgasm. He clings onto the nape of your neck, lodging his tip in the back of your throat while chasing the finger pressed beautifully to his prostate as his mind and body struggle to process the endless limits of his pleasure, though the two can agree it rests in your hands.
When he is somewhat present, Mark quickly recognises your figure lying by his side, your unsoiled hand massaging the expanse of his chest. He gazes up at you with fatigue in his eyes, and a sickly adoration. And something else he thinks he is ready to name.
“Y/N?” Mark calls, still a little breathless, failing to notice the way your eyes catch the time. “I think I-”
“Shit, it’s past nine! Mark, I have to go.”
You disappear down the hall, your presence made known only by a flurry of rushed sounds before you return in the peachy pink shirt you left behind last time. He can’t figure out how it looks better on you every time he sees it. Much like the pink of your lips when circling his cock or the more innocent pink lining your tired eyes. Even the pink hearts that fly around your head as he watches you rush around the room, glancing at him every so often, laughing to find him still watching you. Each time you do, he sees that nothing beats the colour of the red raw love he feels for you. Mark hopes to tell you this some other beautiful morning. For now, he smiles against your lips as you bids him farewell before letting him return to his slumber.
He dreams only of you.
#eeeeeeeeek nervous#took this off my old blog rip#mark lee smut#mark lee x reader#nct mark lee#nct mark#mark lee fluff#mark smut#mark fluff#nct smut#nct fluff#nct dream smut#nct 127 smut#ncitygirls
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one - haechan x gn reader
fluff, cw: a dramatic mention of possible death
there’s something haechan finds so cute about the pitch of your whining. how your pout moves around every word, your knee bouncing against his and haechan is hooked on your every word. his brows knit as you explain the cause of your distress, your growing anxieties with the choreo, the dryness of your throat. he is listening, taking mental notes, thinking of quick and attainable resolutions. haechan wants the best of the best for you. but he just can’t help but be mesmerised by you. the shine of your pout, the glitter dusting your wide, round, pleading eyes. the colour of your nails as you softly press them into his palm. the hush tone you use as his staff wander by, his members only a few meters away.
his members who once believed it a difficult feat, holding their maknae’s attention for so long. they can’t help but feel a little scorned as you hold it so effortlessly. taeyong especially. “it’s like he’s doing this to mock us.”
“what,” doyoung asks off handedly, “dating?”
“no! paying attention for longer than three seconds.”
“come on, hyung,” mark starts, smiling softly as you laugh, haechan looking extremely proud of himself. “he’s in love.”
“we can hear you!” haechan calls, holding onto your collapsed form, embarrassed by their loud assessment. even with the backstage noise and antics, nct in its entirety have always had an issue with being quiet. “you’re making y/n shy.”
“shut up- you’re not! it’s fine!” you rush, ignoring their laughter at your expense.
“sorry, y/n.” they sing in unison, mark’s just a few decibels louder than the rest. “we just think he’s cute when he’s with you.”
“so i’m not when i’m not?” haechan asks defensively, tongue wedged in his cheek. he calms almost immediately, your finger prodding the warm skin of the same cheek. he looks down at you expectantly. “what?”
“you’re always cute,” you assure him, grinning as he rolls his eyes, a blush painting his skin.
his shoulders sag as he huffs, “you have to say that.”
“doesn’t make it untrue.”
“right,” he hums, running his thumb over your cheek. “whatever you say.”
“what are you-” you begin just before your name is called. “one sec!- what are you doing later?”
his head tilts side to side as he helps you stand, pretending to recall his nonexistent plans. plans he kept that way for your filling pleasure.
“whatever you’re doing,” his smirk fades as you shake your head, “hey! that was cute!”
“of course it was, ‘cos like i said-” your name is called again from the hallway outside 127’s dressing room. you note the lack of urgency and continue. “you’re always cute.”
“only for you, baby.”
“yeah, i wish.” you tuck his hair behind his ear and rest your hand on his cheek. he really is cute, you think, eyes gleaming at the sight of his smiling face. “i should go, i’ll text you okay?”
when he nods, you start to take your leave but can’t. his hands have a vice grip on your thighs, holding you in place.
“what?”
he just pouts - or more specifically - puckers his lips expectantly. he takes actual offence when you scoff, fingers slapping his lips as you try to leave again.
“hyuck, i have to go-”
“kiss!”
for every little thing you love about haechan, there is an equal, more annoying thing you dislike. like his insistence you kiss everytime you part. which, isn’t really an issue when you aren’t surrounded by his staff and eight older brothers. “i swear to god, hyuck-”
“okay, look at it like this,” he starts, eyes wide and frantic. “you go on stage have a great performance,” you nod, unsure of his point. “and then i go on and a light falls on my head and boom.”
“boom?”
“boom,” he repeats, hands leaving your thighs to imitate an explosion while his own thighs tighten around your calves. “this could be your last chance to kiss the love of your life.”
he knows he’s won. especially as your glare softens. not for affection at his reasoning, but fatigue. you wonder how often he gets his way for this reason alone.“fine,” you sigh, glare returning as he smirks up at you. “one.”
it never is just one though. not with haechan.
when you press a fleeting kiss to his awaiting lips, you feel his fingers on your neck, his hold gentle but firm. his thumb draws a line up your jaw, his lips just closing around yours before you move away. “one more,” he breathes, tongue sweeping over his lip.
“everyone’s here,” you whine a little too breathlessly.
“no they aren’t,” he almost lies. “it’s just us.” and in that moment it truly is. there’s a loud buzzing in your ear when you’re with him. a white noise that cancels out every other sound in the room. it reduces everything else to dust, besides you and him. haechan almost lied, but you know too well, that in his head, any time he’s with you, it’s just you and him. “one more.”
so you give him one more. and yes, of course he drags it out, his tongue sliding into your mouth with enough haste to remind you of your pending departure, but enough want to make you delay it. haechan’s lips suck on your tongue so softly, earning a whine so breathy only he hears it, his grip on your neck tightening at the sound. the last straw is when he pulls you down, your body landing gently in his lap.
“we can see you!” sounds from across the room, johnny’s scandalised voice breaking the moment. and just like that you’re back stage at an awards’ show again. just like that, you’re making out with your boyfriend in front of his eight friends and countless staff. just like that, you’re leaving.
“later-”
“one-” knowing your boyfriend too well, you give him a final peck as you get up, burning under his friend’s playful judgement. he wants to try again, but the look on your face has haechan knowing better than to push his luck. “bye baby.”
“bye!” you chirp loud enough for them all to hear, waving in their general direction without looking toward any of them and darting out the room.
“you guys ruin everything.” haechan huffs, glaring at them all. “you know it’s free to mind your business?”
“y/n had to leave anyway,” johnny gently reminds him. “and we need to teach you how to count.”
#funfact.......#we have the same birthday#another shitty ending hehehe#ncitygirls#haechan#haechan x reader#haechan fluff#nct fluff#nct 127 fluff#nct dream#nct dream fluff#nct 127#ew tagging is hard
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together - mark lee x gn reader
fluff, college au
“uh, do you want a drink?” he calls from the other room. it’s muffled by brick and mortar but he still prays you didn’t hear his confidence wane towards the end. ‘why didn’t i ask when i was in there?’ he huffs before he pops his head round the corner, calming at the sight of your smiling face. “water, tea, beer-”
“beer.” you rush, cutting him off. mark just nods, grinning at your embarrassment. “thank you.”
“no worries.”
he can feel his cheeks are warm. he ignores it. instead he busies himself with getting your drink, uming and ahing about getting you a glass when he remembers your lip gloss. it glistened as you spoke, almost blinding him when combined with your pearlescent smile. he’d like to keep it intact. if only he had straws.
he returns to find you eyeing his i.t set up. random notes and post-its pasted around the monitor. he hands you a bottle when you thank him and ask, “is this all for class?”
he cringes at the mess, but settles at the hints of wonder in your gaze. the genuine interest. “ah, no- it’s all for when i part time as tech support.” he mentioned it briefly before. it was sometime between your first and second date. it’s how he can afford to live alone.
“i didn’t realise it was this involved,” you hum. a second inquiry falling from your lips before you can help it. “is that why you’re always so busy?”
“uh- yeah,” he mumbles, hand scratching his neck as he takes a long swig. he’d had to reschedule this date twice. the first time he’d forgotten about his engineering group project session that couldn’t be rearranged. he did consider skipping it before realising jungwoo would probably bite one, if not both, of his kneecaps off. the second time, a guy from work had begged him to switch shifts. both times he had jaemin help plan an extravagant night out. he had money set aside for the whole affair, an outfit, a proper plan to wine and dine you. but his colleague was sick and mark has always had a hard time saying no. “sorry about cancelling again last week. i just got really busy all of a sudden with class and work and- yeah. i know you probably expected more than just hanging out at mine.”
“just hanging out is fine.” mark doesn’t think he’s seen more honest eyes in his life. it’s one of the first things he noticed about you. how round and alert they were, and you. you noticed things about him no one else did. like how his hair parts differently when he’s washed it. how his brows crease when he’s thinking too hard. how content he is just hanging out at home. “i know you don’t get a lot of downtime and i just wanted to spend time with you. i don’t mind where.”
you can see he wants to say something. he begs himself to say anything. instead he just stares at you, a wistful smile on his face. to think he could’ve been doing this weeks ago if life hadn’t gotten in the way. when you tilt your head, he shakes his head, a silent answer to your silent question. “do you want to play scrabble?”
your obvious answer had been yes. you beat mark two games out of three. mark had sworn up and down that his win after the fourth beer renders your first two wins null. you neglect to inform him that you let him win the third time. all in all, it’s exactly how time spent with mark always is. perfect. once the nerves fade away, being with mark is like being with an old friend. one who knows and accepts every part of you. the shrill screech in your cackle. the scars lining your knuckles. the wrinkles framing your grin. and yet, being with mark still feels brand new. be it his shy smile everytime he makes you laugh. the pads of his fingers brushing over the back of your hand. his eyes lingering on your bitten lips.
you’re both about six beers in at this point, but it’s a comfortable drunk. one that allows you both to keep your wits about you, while also numbing the earlier nerves, replacing it with a gentle buzz while filling you with determination.
“so why computer science?” you ask as your laughter dies down, his own still clutching at his abdomen. you couldn’t remember what it was you’d both been laughing at, you just know it made your belly hurt. and that was enough. “i feel like you’re feeding into the peter parker fantasy.”
“you know, i don’t go a week without hearing that from the guys since you said it.” he adds, scowling at you.
“i mean,” you start, tilting your head as he blinks at you. after the fourth game, you both found your way to his couch. he has his feet propped up on the coffee table with the board as you sit cross legged to his right, your fingers gently fiddling with his. mark ignores the sparks passing from his digits, all the way up his arm. instead he focuses on your next words. “i’m still kinda shocked they never thought of it too.”
“really?” he asks, laughing when you nod. “if you say so.”
“well, if they decide they want a korean-canadian spiderman, you’d be doing the world an incredible disservice saying no.” he cackles again at the vim in your voice, gazing back at you incredulously. “i’m serious! plus you’re cute, and that never hurts anyone’s chances.”
“really?” he asks again, a bit breathless this time. as you nod, he slips his hand into yours, relinquishing you of your play thing by pressing your palms together. “who does that make you then?”
“me?” he nods. “i’m just me.” you laugh when he frowns suddenly, disagreement ready on his tongue. “what?”
“you could be gwen.”
“gwen dies.”
“oh. what about m.j then?”
“i think m.j dies too.”
“fine,” he huffs, grinning at your chortle. “well if you’re you, then i’m me.”
“fine.” you agree, gazing sweetly at him. “then what does that make us?”
us. you and he. y/n and mark. mark and y/n. he’s wondered that too. he regrets having left so much time between dates, his schedule never allowing him the time to even think about the two of you as one. he has just enough time to think about you alone. but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about where this could go. where this was going. where this had gone.
“i guess it makes us together.”
“okay,” you say simply, as if he hadn’t just made you his. but more importantly, mark thinks, is that he’d made himself yours. “so that means you’re mine?” he nods firmly, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. his teeth catch his lip when your gaze drops. he feels his hand clamming up in your grip. you don’t falter, you only squeeze tighter. “good.”
“good?”
“mhm,” you hum, rising on your knees. “it means i can do this,” you breathe before your lips press to his cheek, lingering for a second before leaning back. you bite back a smirk as his breaths falter, his hand squeezing yours a touch harder. “and this,” you breathe in sudden realisation, your lips pressing to the corner of his mouth. without thinking his do the same, puckering as your lips just miss his. when you retreat, you find his hooded eyes on you. his gaze is a mix of desire and duress, your blatant teasing rendering him near powerless. yet he sits, waits patiently as you have your fun. when you move your hand once holding his to his cheek, fingers tucking his hair behind his ear, you feel his hand loosely grip your thigh, holding you there. you have no intention of leaving, no desire to disappear, nor retreat. but the sudden pressure of his touch has you rising. mark barely allows your lips yo pucker when he leans in, meeting you a good two-thirds of the way as he closes the space.
his lips move with yours like they were made for this. not kissing, but kissing you. mark moves his lips against yours with zero haste but absolute urgency. mark feels himself making up for the lost time. the weeks he has spent in your absence, his insistence on perfecting himself and every moment in your company. he resents every lost opportunity that delayed his moment but appreciates it all the same. because even if he can’t admit it, the anticipation has made this all the more better. every slide of your tongue and press of your lips. every panted breath and nibble on his lip. maybe you just needed to be together. maybe that was enough.
“you can do anything,” the reminder tumbles out of his mouth and into yours, as he reclaims what’s left of his autonomy. “i’m yours.”
“and i’m yours.” and with that, a fifth wall came down as you fell into him, your unfamiliarity vanishing as you closed the sliver of space between you. mark was no longer a maybe, no longer a daydream, he was it. you hadn’t fully figured out what about mark made you swoon so much. the way he laughed with his whole body, or went ruby from some light teasing. how he empathised so wholly, or worked so passionately. maybe it’s because mark never did anything half way. he wanted everything in his life to feel purposeful, loved and complete. much like you made him feel. so maybe it was all those things that made you fall for mark.
maybe it was all those things together.
#ummmm why is this giving sub!mark?#it wasn’t meant to#he’s just desperately in love#nct fluff#nct college au#nct mark#nct mark lee#mark lee#mark x reader#mark fluff#mark lee fluff#mark lee x reader#ncitygirls
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better - jeno x gn reader
angst, fluff, high school au, cw: bullying, injury
“i know you think everyone’s against you,” he doesn’t know when talking to you got so hard. he feels a lump form is his throat as you quietly weep, turning quickly away from him. it is then he thinks the lump in his throat has always been there. “i just want you to know you have me.”
“that’s rich,” the hatred in your voice makes him flinch. but what exactly did he expect? “that’s your boy, jen. he’s your friend and you let him treat me like that-”
“haechan isn’t my friend,” he’s always quick on the defence when it comes to his connection to his teammates, but never to you. “we play soccer together, that’s it. we don’t even hang out that much, you know that.”
“my bad, how could i forget you aren’t friends with the guy you always spend time with,” you make the mistake of reaching for your bag when your arm proves it may be more than just bruised. jeno moves to grab it for you, when you quickly hiss, “i don’t need your help.”
“but you’re hurt-”
“so? why do you care all of a sudden?” you push past the pain, snatching your bag. “you didn’t care when he barged into me. you didn’t care when i fell. you didn’t care when you walked straight past me. so tell me why you care now?”
this isn’t going at all like jeno is used to. jeno used to show up to the darkest corner of the library, study with you for an hour and leave. it was a while before jeno began lingering past the end of your sessions, leaving by your side, stopping for dinner, even walking you home. it took a little more time for jeno to meet you in other places. the arcade downtown, the cafe by your old middle school, the skate park uptown.
jeno has always been plagued by his passive disposition. so he always found it way easier to ignore his complicity when you would brush over it, pretending you didn’t see him there watching with cold, unfeeling eyes as his team mate drained you of everything he had grown to admire about you.
a part of jeno knew it couldn’t go on this way forever, he couldn’t let haechan walk all over you as he stood on the sidelines. but as much as it hurt to see you hurting, he didn’t feel it was his place to step in. not for the sake of fear, or embarrassment. well, not in the obvious sense. jeno didn’t care about his reputation, but rather the meaning behind his actions. what would that make you and he?
friends? more than friends?
jeno hasn’t quite decided why he likes the idea of the latter. why he detests the tears he sees swimming in your eyes, but adores the idea of passing his thumb over your stained cheek to wipe them away. why your pain hurts him so deeply. why, with tears in your eyes and his heart in your hands, if you asked him to, he would beat lee donghyuck within an inch of his life. why he can’t just vocalise any of this.
“i don’t think we should hang out anymore,” you whisper on your way out, the words wedged awkwardly between sniffles. your shoulders stiffen when you hear him rise. “i’ve never asked you to choose, and i never would. but i did just want you to care, even a little.”
“i do care, y/n.”
“jeno,” you laugh, tears spilling down your cheeks. “you don’t treat people you care about the way you treat me.” the disappointment in your eyes hurts him more than your words do. because he knows he has failed you. he knows you expect more, that you want more. it just hurts more to see that want, as you peer up at him through wet lashes. “you defend them, protect them. so don’t tell me you care when it’s obvious you don’t.”
“i do,” he tries, rounding on you when you try to leave, almost reaching for your bruised arm when he retracts, hand resting on your hip. “i do, i do. and-and i know, i know i’ve let you down. i know i should’ve stuck up for you and i’m so sorry, y/n.” he swallows around his words, unable to ignore the tremour in your lip. “tell me how to fix it,” he breathes, holding your face in his hand as his arm circles your waist, his body reacting to the threat in your gaze. “just tell me what to do and i’ll do it, i swear.”
“do better,” it’s trapped between sobs, your breath shaking as his touch works to dispel all your fears. “do something, anything,” your eyes flick between his two, unsure what exactly it is you see in them. fear, desire, hunger. “i just want to know i mean something to you.”
jeno has never been too good with words. they have never come easy to him. he has never felt words were enough to convey any emotion he has ever felt. funnily enough, jeno has never been to good with action either. his limbs always seem to lock as his mind implores him to do the right thing, to do better, be better.
and yet, as he stands before you, his fingers digging into your flesh, tugging you toward him, a near breathless, “ok,” falls from his lips before they meet yours. never once has he acted so fearlessly, spoken so thoughtlessly. his body responds to your plea with one of its own. one that begs for forgiveness, for a chance to prove that within this vessel is a heart that beats so proudly for you. a heart that aches in ways only your forgiveness can remedy, for while it had lost its way, it has found its place where he has laid it at your feet.
jeno’s lips move with a fervour you couldn’t place until today. a passion so raw you fear his rapidly beating heart may give as it thrums beneath your palm. jeno slows as you sigh into his mouth, your fingers tangling in his nape, body melting against his boiling frame.
“i’ll do better,” he breathes against your cheek, lips puckering gently as he moves back towards the corner of your smile. “i promise.”
“okay,” you sigh, kissing the smile off his face as you leave. “you better.”
#shitty ending check#nct#nct dream#nct angst#nct dream angst#nct fluff#nct dream fluff#jeno#jeno angst#jeno fluff#nct high school au#nct au#nct dream high school au#nct dream au#ncitygirls
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matryoshka - part 1, 4k
sibling!johnny, taeyong x f reader, mark x f reader, platonic/‘sibling’!haechan
nct crime au, angst, cw: character death, death, mental illness, police, injury, violence
300 days
There are few people who can disarm a man like Johnny Seo. Since the rather untimely, and inexplicable death of his mother and father at the tender age of fourteen, he quickly adopted this persona. He considers it a token from his late mother. She had always said, in a voice as soft as the breeze in spring, that to be polite is to be in control. He holds himself to that quite forcibly, reminding himself time and time again that there is power in making others fold to him. At time it is as simple as approaching an adversary with a smile, and awaiting the flare in their skin, the bugle in their veins and the ripple in their muscles. There are few who can disarm Johnny Seo. But few does not equate to none.
“When will you discharge her?” Johnny began, the words rolling off of his tongue with an air of nonchalance that bordered on flippancy, but an edge that was new to even him.
“Mr Seo,” without thinking, Johnny rolls his neck, bracing himself for a response he knows he will refuse. He thinks it odd to loathe an act he is yet to commit, especially when he can still prevent it. What he hates more however, is that you are here to witness it. When the doctor sighs, letting his glasses hang around his neck, he smiles sympathetically. Johnny sees nothing but pity. “I’m not sure how else to say this, but physically? Your sister is stable enough to go home. When we went in to remove what was left of the bullet fragments and saw to her ruptured spleen, we managed to mend her torn ligaments. Her blood work came back clear, and for the most part, her vitals are stable. With a few weeks of physio, I think we would be able to discharge her. Ideally, she could go home this week.”
“Wonderful,” Johnny’s hollow cheer guides his hasty movements as he, unthinking, strips you of your blanket to reveal a sight he thinks might change his mind. Rows of red line your skin, moons of dried blood covering the heels of your palms. He cringes at the dirty cotton cuffs that strap you to the metal frame of your hospital bed. Johnny can’t seem to make sense of the sight. “Did this happen during the shooting?”
“No, Mr Seo,” the doctor shakes his head, his frustration with his patient’s only living relative shedding every second he watches Johnny take in your limp frame. “It is like I was saying. Miss Seo is fit enough to leave. But mentally-”
Johnny simply raises his palm, ignoring the tears that pool in and out the corners of your eyes, a steady stream gathering in your hairline as you relive the events the two refer to so flippantly. “She will do better at home.” It is unclear for whom the assurance is intended. The doctor, you, himself. It is all just hope. So it doesn’t matter. “She will do better once she’s home.”
“Mr Seo, as your sister’s physician, I must implore you to reconsider.” Johnny understands where the doctor is coming from, he truly does. Johnny, taught well by his father, prides himself in being understanding. Like his father before him, Johnny prides himself in being calm in the face of not only danger, but regular folk - those who go about their lives, slaves to normalcy. Those who live life year to year, those who plan their lives, who wake up to sleep, expecting to see the sun once again. Those who consider life a right, rather than a privilege. Johnny has come to understand men like this. Not by choice of course, but because he had to. Especially once you met Taeyong.
2,109 days
“I met a guy today,” the words crackle through the phone, Johnny’s fingers stilling as he finally takes a break from his work, placing a mental bookmark on his train of thought. He wants to ask where, but he doesn’t enjoy seeming interested in affairs of the heart. They sicken him. “He was really weird,” you hum as you kick the curb, swinging your arms as you traipse through what Johnny thinks must be your university campus. He pretends he bother to know your schedule, but never has a reason for why he always gets himself up before you leave every morning. “A good weird,” you add, “his clothes hardly fit, they were all baggy. It’s hard to explain.”
“You kids and your trends,” he huffs, spinning in his chair to watch the city, eyes landing on the bell tower of your campus. “What happened to a nicely fitted suit?”
“It’s a college campus, John. Plus, it’s like half ten in the morning,” you can hear his next question before he even asks. “I mentioned his clothes because I wanted you to envision him, not judge him.”
“Well, I am envisioning a bum.”
“Okay, but envision a cute bum,” you try. “A beautiful, cute, funny bum.”
“That is still a bum, y/n.” You hear the faint sound of floor boards creaking, a telltale sign that he’s pacing. “Did he ask you out?” You hum in agreement, always too shy to admit anything so personal outright. It is times like this he wonders why you bother calling him and not just Haechan. He’ll never tell you this however. Lest he lose his spot as your first call. “I hope ope he’s taking you somewhere nice?”
“Yeah, of course,” he knows you’re lying. He knows it’s Hyuck’s you're both going to. Not that there as an issue with Hyuck’s. Even if you’ve already had the menu four different ways, front to back and then back again. It’s where you take all your first dates, you give Haechan a chance to size them up, figure out if they’re worthy. “I just wanted to tell you first because I think he’s a real contender this time.”
“And you’ll be late home, so you won’t be making dinner again?” Your affirming grunt forced a long sigh from Johnny. However, no matter many times he claimed his annoyance was due to your absence inconveniencing him; you both knew the loneliness bothered him now. “Well, have fun.”
“I’ll try,” you sing. “And I’ll bring that coffee cake you love so much, okay?” Johnny offers his own affirming grunt. Though it sits a couple octaves below your own, you hear the sliver of joy he lets through. “Love you.”
He doesn’t respond. He had already hung up.
300 days
“Mr Seo?”
Johnny had finally shrugged off his suit jacket and let his shoulders sag when he heard his name for the umpteenth time that day. He wanta to ignore it, but what would mother say?
“Yes?” SMPA. The badge is hard to read as it glistens under the glaring hospital lights. But he can’t miss the shape, the obnoxious insignia.
“Good evening,” the detective starts, his smiling eyes are in direct contrast to the gloom and doom of the last few days. Johnny wonders if smiling with teeth is proper practice when greeting someone who almost lost their little sister. “I am Detective Lee, I have a few questions for you about the shooting at Hyuck’s Diner. If you have a moment.”
“Of course,” he sighs, straightening his spine. “I am sure you are aware, but I wasn’t there.”
“I think it’s lucky you weren’t,” the detective adds, a sad smile settling on the bed to your right. “I am a friend of Donghyuck’s.”
“Oh,” there’s a short second where Johnny feels an odd sense of comfort, one he believed would only come when you finally opened your eyes. He also feels some guilt. “I didn’t know he had any other friends in Seoul, I tried to reach everyone I could.”
“And thank you for that,” the detective lets his eyes fall on his friend’s unmoving figure for a moment, his gaze returning to Johnny when he feels a familiar prick. “I have been hard at work on this case. I received word you did not wish for your sister to remain in hospital. May I ask why?”
“It is a public hospital,” Johnny responds, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I can afford better.”
“Then why did you let her stay?” The detective asks, scribbling away. Johnny wonders what dictates the parameters of an investigation versus a friendly conversation. “Her psych eval?”
“No,” he sighs, eyeing Haechan to your right. “They wouldn’t let me take him too,” when the detective tilts his head, surprise evident in his round eyes, Johnny lets himself laugh for the first time in over a week. “You wouldn’t want to be me when she wakes up to find I left him behind.”
2,361 days
It is past midnight when you fly into Johnny’s bedroom, a dew gathering on your forehead, chin and neck. In his sleepy haze, he hears only the end of your ramblings, your steps ordered in a manner Johnny can only describe as frantic. It is not in his nature to panic, he leaves such trivialities to you. But when your wide eyes find his, fear brimming as you scramble to get ready, you throw him your phone and he finally sees why.
“There are a bunch of guys who won’t pay up at Hyuck’s and he’s scared. Let’s go.”
That’s how Johnny found himself parked outside Hyuck’s Diner in downtown Seoul, just north of the river. You didn’t give him a chance to park up as you dashed out the still moving vehicle, door left wide open. Johnny is thankful it’s late, but quickly notes it being far too late for Hyuck’s to still be open. As he parks up, he watches you storm into the near empty diner, sees the relief on Haechan’s tired face as you round the bar. Johnny can’t really make out what you’re saying, but he can see the fire in your eyes. He sniggers as he stalks after you, seeing his mother in them too.
“I said, pay up, or give it back.”
“That’s funny,” one of the burly men says, food spitting out his mouth and onto the clean bar top as he laughs in your face. While Johnny only counted two from outside, he can now see a third standing off to the side. When his eyes meet Johnny’s, he falters slightly, thick hands running through his hair as he avoids Johnny’s haunting figure hovering by the only exit. “Who exactly is gonna make us?”
“Me,” you grin, reaching for the back of his head and slamming it hard down onto the bar. You hear Haechan yelp in what you assume is fear for his newly polished, now dented bar top. As the guy to his left lunges at you, you’re quick to utilise your surroundings. Johnny almost applauds your ingenuity as you quickly reach for a used butter knife and practically mutilate the man’s fist. It is then Haechan disappears from your side, his head nearly halfway down the drain pipe as blood splurts onto his newly polished, now dented, now blood stained bar top. The first guy had rounded the bar, only to be met with a fist to the throat, and knee to the gut. Johnny sees you’re expecting something to happen as you repeat the motion before seeing sense. With your hand latched to his collar, you drag his doubled over body out onto the street before you knee him again.
In the middle of the intersection pours his unpaid bill, meeting one end of the deal. Johnny laughs at how visibly dissatisfies you are, considering how long their bill actually was. You fish his wallet out of his back pocket, taking a few hundreds to cover the balance. “Who even carries cash anymore?”
Johnny wonders too as you pass by him, walking back inside and turning on the third guy. “Your friend covered yours, so you’re free to go.” As he scrambles to leave, he keeps his eyes fixed on your brother, halting when Johnny moves to stop him, a lone finger pointing toward the man's weeping companion.
“Take them with you.”
It’s a few seconds before their presence is no more than a distant memory. Johnny is quick to clean the bloody bar top, and rearrange the furniture. He even loads the dishwasher as you tend to a still queasy Haechan. “When I text you, I didn’t think you would do all of that,” he huffs, backtracking as he notes the hurt look in your eyes. “I mean, I am so grateful. Really, I am,” he smirks, fatigue stealing the light that usually fills his eyes. “But I didn’t know you were The fucking Bride.” When you roll your eyes, he presses on, glimpses of his usual self slowly return as the adrenaline begins to kick in. “No, honestly! I wish I had cameras in here because- fuck! That was insane!”
“Alright, whatever. Get your things, you’re staying with us tonight.”
“Do you think they’ll come back?” Haechan asks, the worry in his tone hurting you beyond belief. “Do you think I should call Mark again?”
“Who, the cop? No, they won’t be coming back, trust me,” you hum. When Johnny emerges from the back, drying his hands on a clean rag, you jest, “no thanks to angel eyes over there may I add.”
“Oh my god, hyung! And you!” Haechan restarts, allowing you to pack up his things while he recounts the terror in the third man’s gaze as he locked eyes with your brother. “It’s like he saw a ghost or something.”
“Yeah,” you laugh, grabbing Haechan while Johnny locks up. “Or something.”
It’s nearly dawn when Haechan crashes. It was Monday and he needed to find cover for the open. But getting cover didn’t stop him fretting, and no amount of herbal tea nor booze could settle a frantic Haechan. It is laughable though, how it took no more than a film opening to send him off. You slip away at sunrise, snuggling up to Johnny who gave up on sending you away shortly after your parents passed. However, he still makes sure to express his disdain for the affection.
“At least stick to your side, y/n-”
“Thank you for coming tonight,” you breathe, clearly uninterested in satisfying his request. “I know you have to be up soon, and I’m sorry. But having you there was- yeah. Thank you.”
For the first time in years, Johnny lets you snuggle with him. An hour later, for the first time ever, Johnny lets Haechan do the same. He fears that this might become a pattern, the two of you craving so much affection it might suffocate him. Johnny knows it just might, but has found peace in that. Much like he has found peace in your insistence that Haechan be one of you. Because he is one of you, he too left orphaned at a young age, you took him under your wing. So much like that day, as Johnny falls asleep to the sound of your light snores, he also decides-
300 days
“He’s family.”
“He speaks so highly of you both,” Mark adds, smiling thankfully at your sleeping frame. “But I’m sure he would forgive you for doing what’s best for her.”
“She wouldn’t.” Johnny adds, though a part of him knows he might have trouble forgiving himself.
“What is it you do for a living?” Mark asks, eyes quickly scanning Johnny’s crisp suit. “I can’t say I recall Hyuck ever mentioning it.”
“A bit of this and that,” he jokes, glancing towards you. “That’s what she calls it.” He hates the melancholic tone he has adopted. It is pitiful. “After our parents passed, I took over their pharmaceuticals company just after I turned twenty-one. We dabble in everything; medicine, cosmeceuticals, nutrition, you name it.”
“That must keep you busy.”
“I work from home,” Johnny knows he is being foolish, trying to falsely place an accusation in Mark’s assumption. Johnny knows he fell into the classic trope of throwing himself into his studies, and then his work, just to avoid the harsh reality that his parents were gone and they were never coming back. He would readily admit he abandoned you in the beginning to grieve on your own, to figure it all out on your own. He just wouldn’t take that from a stranger. “I tried to be around for her as much as I could.”
“I don’t doubt that,” Mark’s smile is kind, full of unfiltered sympathy. Johnny wonders if you have to practice such a thing, and if so, whether someone should have the doctors do the same. “I just wonder if you are wearing yourself thin is all.”
“You needn’t worry about such things Detective.” Johnny reminds, drawing the line between the two so simply, his eyes flicking slowly to Mark’s badge. “Worry about the case.”
“Of course,” Mark rushes, scrambling to defend his statement. “I didn’t mean any disrespect.”
“And I you,” when the doctor enters to take both yours and Haechan’s vitals, he greets Mark warmly. Johnny feels no resentment to this warm reception, none whatsoever. But he can’t help but wonder what about him denies him the same warm greeting. He is quickly reminded of the first time he was to meet Taeyong.
1,977 days
“Your knees are shaking the counter, hyung,” Haechan sniggers. He knows he shouldn’t, he does. But he can’t help but bask in his friend’s nerves. How can the coldest man he knows be so scared to meet his sister’s boyfriend. As calm and collected as he behaves, Haechan is no stranger to worry, and it worries him to no end how the evening will go. From what he has heard from you, Taeyong is as nervous as one can be. And yet, your main concern lies in how your brother will react, and Haechan is an empathetic soul. He just knows he will feel it all. “Your vibe is really killing the mood, lighten up.”
“Shut up, kid.” Johnny warns, eyeing his watch every so often. “They’re late.”
Strike one.
“You know what y/n is like, she’s probably trying to talk him out of it.” Haechan notes how innocent Johnny looks with his head tilted, confusion bleeding into his features. “You are pretty scary hyung, maybe she thinks you’m scare him off.”
“Maybe he isn’t worthy then.”
Strike two.
“Or,” Haechan sings, adjusting his embroidered apron, Hyuck’s opening anniversary gift from the very man he is about to berate. “Maybe you’re not ready to watch your sister grow up, so you sabotage everything with your scary eyes and bad vibes,” Haechan shrugs with his chin in his palm, blinking sweetly at Johnny who resists the urge to flick his forehead.
“Don’t you have coffee to go pour?”
Haechan sniggers once more as he does just that, refilling Johnny’s coffee and shrugging. “Or maybe they’re stuck in traffic.”
So he can’t fly?
Strike three.
300 days
After a few hours, Mark returns for a detailed description of the three men he suspects may be involved in the shooting. Johnny says as much as he can recall, even going as far as to emphasise the detective’s lack of involvement. He suspects it is in direct retaliation to his earlier comment and ignores it, though Johnny quickly sees his own guilt reflected back in the detective’s guilt ridden eyes. “Will that be all?”
“Almost-” Mark starts, before glancing over at you. “I just,” he can’t seem to push past the lump in his throat. Johnny has given him everything he knows, that much is true. But after speaking with the doctor, Mark can’t help but wonder. “Why haven’t you tried speaking to her? Doctor Kim said she may respond well to a familiar voice.”
“I’m not sure what to say.”
Mark knows it’s a loaded statement. One dripping in regret, in guilt, and in shame. But Mark can’t afford for Johnny to be ashamed. Not with Haechan lying unconscious as you lie there, reliving that day over and over and over again. Mark needs you to wake up. But Mark also swore to never relinquish his compassion. All Mark knows of you is the stories he’s heard through Haechan. Though some have a rosier hue due to his familiarity with you, Mark is sure there is no exaggeration in your case. You are a good person. One who cares deeply, who loves deeply. Mark thinks those parts of you are the ones Johnny can tap into. He just won’t.
“Haechan was my first friend in Korea. When I moved here as a kid, my parents worked at the orphanage he was at. He made fun of my Korean for a year straight before I could finally understand and speak fluently enough to defend myself. But, I guess it was okay, you know? He was helping all the same. I was a scrawny kid, I used to get picked on a lot. He was always there. Even though he got beat up too. He’s in all my earliest- my best memories. growing up. He’s like my brother. If he was awake, I think I’d-”
“But he isn’t,” Johnny reminds, eyes locked on your sunken face. Johnny knows what Mark is doing, he knows the tactic very well. He is quite acquainted with guilt as a form of persuasion. “He’s not awake, detective. The doctor said he doesn’t know if he will ever wake up. You know, I overheard the doctors say they haven’t seen spinal fractures that severe in their fifty years of combined experience. They said if Haechan ever opens his eyes again it will be a miracle. If he walks again? This hospital would be internationally renowned. Those surgeons would be infamous. But they can’t. They can’t so it. They can’t do it because they don’t have the facilities for such an operation, and even if they did, Hyuck couldn’t afford it. Even if he could afford it, y/n would have to wake up and give them the okay, because this idiot made herself his guardian so he could practically sell his soul for the loan for that fucking diner.
“So, I’m sorry, detective. I’m sorry that the only thing standing between you ever seeing your friend again is my selfish sister.”
“Mr Seo-”
“But you must agree, she is selfish. She thinks she’s the only one hurting, the only one who has lost something, lost someone.” Mark only sees what Johnny is doing a few seconds too late. As Johnny raises a lone finger to his lips, his eyes catching on the stream pouring down your temples. Mark’s heart nearly beats out of his chest as your vital signs begin to whir, the machinery at your bedside coming to life as Johnny reminds you that, “people die every day. Our parents, Hyuck’s parents, and now Taeyong-”
“Don’t!” You scream suddenly, your body nearly thrashing off of the bed. Johnny fears the force with which you rise could snap your arms in two, but nothing is more worrisome than the bloody red rimming your crisp white eyes; the visible and painfully rapid rise and fall of your chest; the tremor in your chapped lips. “Don’t! Please! Please don’t say it-”
Johnny had never moved so fast. His hands clinging to your trembling frame as he stroked the back of your head. He chanted quickly in your ear, pleading with you to stay with him as he promises to stay. “I won’t go anywhere, I won’t leave you. Never. I promise. Just please, stay with me, okay? I need you here, Hyuck- Hyuck needs you, okay? I need you to stay with me, we’re all we have. Please, y/n-”
Mark couldn’t help but feel intrusive. His earlier pushing began to feel filthy, unfair, unjust. But how could he know you were this far gone, this distraught. Nothing is more sickening than the soft, croaky ‘yes’ that spills from your lips. Your bloodshot eyes lingering on his frozen frame before you see Haechan. You tremble again, your body nearly convulsing as you recognise the boy beside you.
“Shh, he’ll be okay- I promise- we’ll get him help. I promise you- we’ll be okay.”
Johnny rarely spoke out of hope. He was a man who would cling so tightly to reality, you would sometimes joke that his knuckles would snap from the pressure. But as he holds you tightly in his arms, rocking your hollow frame back and forth, he realises he has nothing more than hope.
But since when has hope ever been enough?
#here we fooking gooooooo#matryoshka#ncitygirls#johnny seo#johnny seo angst#haechan#haechan angst#mark lee#mark lee angst#taeyong#taeyong angst#nct mark angst#nct angst#nct 127 angst#nct crime au#nct au#fuck tagging lol bye
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ncitygirls’ masterlist
smut - s // fluff - f // angst - a // content warning - cw: will be at the top of the fic
series
matryoshka
how do you miss something you don’t even remember having? how do you live when you lose something you can’t live without? how do you forgive when you will never forget?
taeyong x f reader, mark x f reader, sibling!johnny, ‘sibling’!haechan
part 1 - a, cw
it goes down in the green room
when the boys have a bit of downtime backstage, a bunch of things go down.
one - haechan x gn reader // f, cw
friends - jaemin x f reader // f, s
meet me at the altar
who’d have guessed mark would be the first grandkid in his family to tie the knot? who also would have guessed a wedding could have so much drama? (i said yes to both by the way)
yours - jaemin x f reader // f, s
mine - yours pt 2 // f, a, s
dance - jeno x f reader // f, s
home - haechan incomplete
levanter
tales, old and new, in the faraway land of levanter (royal au)
forgive - hyunjin x f reader // a, f, s
only - changbin x f reader // a, f, s
no title - jisung incomplete
hogwarts school of witchcraft wizardry
a lot can happen in seven years of wizarding school.. here are some tales (hp au - fuck jkr)
pride - han jisung x f reader // f
stand alones
better - jeno x gn reader // a, f, cw
together - mark x gn reader // f
alone - jaehyun x f reader // s, a, f
knock - mark, jungwoo x f reader // s, cw
pink - mark x gn reader // f, s, cw
eternal - jaemin x f reader // f, s
sun - lucas x gn reader // f
belong - chan x f reader // f, s
#nct#nct x reader#nct x female reader#nct x gender neutral reader#nct fluff#nct smut#nct angst#ncitygirls masterlist#jt masterlist
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about ncitygirls
heyyyyy it’s ya girl j.t (jan, janet, mrs. ljn/xdj)
so i’m a black cis she/her, ‘97 gemini girly
oh and as soon as u started reading this we became friends, so hey booo
i take requests for ‘00 up, so just send me a word and an nct member & if it’s fun i’ll do it
lastly 🔞 this 🔞 page 🔞 is 🔞 18+ 🔞 only. i am not creating a child friendly, appropriate or ‘safe’ space for minors here, so please do not interact with me or my posts. 🔞 🔞 🔞
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