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neocrias · 5 months

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The Ultimate Test

Synopsis: In which you hear that Mark Lee - a cocky classmate from college - is a bad kisser, so he personally offers to prove you wrong.

wc: 3,3k genre: party! au; university! au; slightly suggestive

You didn't used to come to parties like this. Well, at least not on weekdays. Definitely not when you had a Calculus 3 exam in a couple of days to worry about. However, the pleading eyes of your three best friends who couldn't bear to see you go through the whole grueling college experience without going through the whole drinking-and-partying stereotypical uni thing managed to convince you this time.

And you were thankful to have a little black strapless dress tucked away in the back of your closet for specific situations like this. And you were also grateful when your friends offered to pay for your Uber - after all, being an university student also brought with it the unhappiness of lack of money and the small joy of when you get something for free.

You just weren't very grateful when you realized that you barely spoke to those people at the party and your friends had "very important" things to do, which included kissing and boys, and didn't include you staring at them while all of this was going on. Of course, this was expected, and you didn't want to be a party-pooper, so you just started walking around and drinking a few shots of beverages you weren't exactly interested in knowing what were. Again, it was for free.

Your slight shyness wasn't limiting or controlling, but it was certainly a bit inconvenient. More than once a few good-looking guys came up to talk to you, but your clumsiness simply drove them away within a few minutes. Damn.

And now here you were: listening to incredibly loud music in a modern mid-century house that you didn't know who it belonged to - or even if it was a fraternity, or anything like that - with a plastic cup of a drink that you didn't know what it was, eyeliner that you could swear would melt at any moment with the human warmth around you, a little black dress that had already gone out of fashion and an uncontrollable urge to do something outrageous, just so you could distract yourself from the fact that normally at that time you would either be sleeping or freaking out about the imminent calculus exam. "Damn that motherfucking calculus," you thought, "I'm at a party."

On the other side of the large, high-ceiling living room, a group of recognizably annoying boys were playing beer pong while dozens of girls surrounded them. All of them were engineering students, except for their leader, Mark Lee, who was the most disturbing of the seven and was a literature major (which in some way that was incomprehensible to you, attracted a lot of girls) and he obviosuly took advantage of this, which was visible by the girl leaning loosely on his waist at this very moment.

— YES! — Haechan, one of them, shouted over the loud music as he hit the ping-pong ball into a glass of beer. Mark cracked his neck twice before picking up the glass and drinking until the very last drop, defeated.

You stared at him as he shrugged and grimaced before returning the glass to the table and flashing a smile at everyone in the game, preparing for his turn to throw the ball.

It wasn't that he wasn't handsome, or attractive. Yes, he was. And he didn't fall short on either count. You could understand why he was so chasen after by the girls on campus. It's just that you'd had the opportunity to have a few dialogues with Mark Lee, and they were all pretty unpleasant. There was something about his manner, his attitude, that you just couldn't endure. He was irritating. Smug. Sloppy. And you don't have time or patience for that.

He then flexed his arm, his biceps visible thanks to his tank top, and threw the ping-pong ball, but someone blocked your view just in time to watch him hit the cup.

— You won't believe what I've just found out! — Jennie, one of your three cheeky friends, appears smiling and clearly drunk. — Mark Lee is a total soft kisser!

— What? — You almost scream, startled by the sudden mention of the boy you've been shamelessly watching for the past few moments. And even worse: worried about how your friend had acquired this information.

— I'm serious! — She laughed out loud, bending her body forward and knocking some of what looked like a fruit cocktail out of the glass in her hand. You sidestep cautiously, but some of the pink liquid still splashes on your legs. — Lin said they kissed earlier in the evening, and he barely even moved! Can you believe that?

You laugh at the irony of the facts. That was valid information to share. You feel a bit bad for Lin, your classmate, but honestly? You wouldn't trade knowing that for anything. Of course, Mark, the most conceited person who ever lived, would be the type to talk a lot and do nothing. Was there anything more coherent than that? Absolutely not!

Your laughter joins Jennie's, and you both enjoy the gossip for a while. Suddenly, Rihanna's "You Da One" starts playing through the dozens of speakers scattered around the house and you and your friend stare at each other, wide-eyed, as your laughter stops.

— THAT'S OUR SONG! — You shout at the same time. Jennie pulls you by the arm to the most spacious part of the room, where everyone was dancing, and you let yourself go for the first time all night.

The lively melody and beat combine with the rhythm of your heart, and not much later you can hardly feel the world around you. Tests, lack of money, shyness or cocky boys, none of it mattered. The few drinks you've consumed so far finally seem to take effect, and with every song that plays, your body feels looser and your mind feels further away.

Not long after that, a tall, muscular guy starts to whisper something to Jennie, who smiles back shyly. You realize that maybe this is your cue to take a break from the dance floor to grab another drink and finally quench your thirst caused by the sudden exercise.

You see the familiar counter full of disposable cups and bottles of all kinds on the other side of the hall, in what appears to be a dining room combined with a kitchen that is now full of young people and very messy. It's easy to let yourself imagine what that environment would look like if it weren't in its most chaotic state: perhaps a cozy place or a shared-house of intelligent students. But right now, that was just the alcohol talking.

As soon as you reach the counter, you grab a plastic cup and fill it with what looks like clear alcohol - perhaps a vodka, or gin - topped off with a generic soft drink from the other side of the counter. That mix will be enough at the moment to keep you from passing out, but it won't let the dance sober you up again either.

The first sip brings the sweetness of soda and the bitterness of strong alcohol down your throat.

— Vodka. That's for sure. — You conclude to yourself, looking at the cup in your hands.

— I thought you were some kind of female-hermit or something. — A voice pulls you out of your little dialog with the inanimate object in your hands, and you look up to see the person on the other side of the bar, only to roll your eyes deeply.

— That' not even a thing.

But Mark Lee just shrugs, filling his own cup with what looked like a brownish liquor.

— You get the idea. — He smiles and tilts his head, stopping to watch you. His eyes scan along your little black dress and you suddenly feel embarrassed by all the attention you're getting. He just lets out a muffled laugh, probably noticing the way you flinch slightly, and walks away with his drink - not without turning around and giving you a wink, which you answered with a frown.

After the not-so-pleasant appearance of the cocky college student, you remember the funniest piece of information of the evening: "Mark Lee is a total soft kisser!". Of course! He could be as arrogant as he wanted around you or any other girl, but you knew what he really was. You knew his secret. And he may have walked out of there thinking he'd rocked it, or that he'd made you uncomfortable as usual, but it was you who had won your little dispute. After all, you're going to have the last laugh.

…🎉…

A few more drinks away and no word from your friends. The small anger you had felt towards Mark had been transformed into an important mission to tell almost every girl you knew there about the new gossip you had been entrusted with.

You were at a stage in your drinking where your conscience was no longer so affected - so you could tell that your actions were the result of a real desire to unmask the most annoying guy you knew. Of course, the drink made you bold enough to carry out the plan, but the rest was all yours.

— So… Mark Lee, do you know who that is? — You were excitedly telling Lane, a girl from your business class. Lane nodded, curious. — The rumors are that…

She then arched her eyebrows, looking past you. Unfortunately, or not, you didn't exactly notice that.

— He's a very bad kisser! — And then you started laughing for the nth time that night, thinking about how funny that was and hoping for a good reaction from your colleague.

— Oh really? And how do you know that? — A voice echoes from behind you and you feel your spine freeze. Lane stares at you and the person behind you alternately, getting a front row view of your giant screwup.

"Shit", you thought before turning to face the known voice owner.

— Mark. — It's all you can say. You try your best not to show the shame of having been caught in such a…vulnerable moment. The brown-haired guy just stared at you intensely, arms crossed in front of his chest and a deadly look in his eyes. You don't let yourself be intimidated this time, and give him an ironic look in return.

— Funny you should be saying that, hermit.

— Funny that you're a literature student and yet misuse that word.

Okay, that wasn't your best take at the moment. But it was all you could think of as a response. You wait for a laugh from Mark, or anything else that would reveal his smug spirit - or that would show that he had been shaken by your comment about the kiss.

However, he just takes a step forward, still with his arms crossed, coming dangerously close to you and tilting his head and shoulders in your direction, to look you right in the eye as he says:

— Who did you call a "bad kisser" again? — He teases, starting to crack a sly smile. — Why don't you kiss me to prove who's the bad kisser?

You swallow a lump in your throat, not knowing what to say. That's right, it seems that his idiotic manners had appeared in the worst possible way, and now it was up to you to make things right, even though you felt nervous and your stomach twisted with a feeling you didn't understand where it was coming from.

Suddenly, a flash of confidence came over you. And there, staring at your nemesis' frowning eyebrows and the nonchalant way in which he crossed his well-shaped arms, with that stupid grin on his face and a growing challenge in his gaze, you understood what was happening to you. Damn it, you want to kiss Mark.

Of course you don't want to give him a taste of being right, or yet another reason for him to think he's the man. Of course you don't want to hurt your own pride, and you'd hold on to it like your life depended on it.

But you also wanted to be able to test that gossip you'd heard earlier that evening. And you also wanted the taste of knowing that you'd totally destabilized that arrogant man. You wanted to see the look of surprise on his face when you accepted his proposal, or would he be… satisfied? Or bewildered? All the options seemed alluring in your imagination.

And you wanted to. Oh, you really did. You really wanted to kiss Mark Lee.

— Prove me wrong, then. — You boldly held the gaze of the boy who was testing your patience so much these past weeks. Your smile gradually widened as you watched his mouth slowly open in confusion. Oh, he hadn't expected that. Mark's eyebrows drew together and he seemed to search for words. His posture stretched, and the shadow of his body moved away from you.

— Wait, what did you say? — He pointed to his own ear and then to his surroundings, indicating the muffled sound of the party music. His face showed, however, that he had heard very well - he just wanted to make sure he wasn't hallucinating those words.

— Prove. me. wrong.

— What the actual f… — He practically whispered, but you could understand the words just by watching the movement of his lips. Mark's gaze in your direction was puzzled and surprised, but not in a childish way. He stared at you as if he were really trying to understand what on earth could be happening to you at that moment.

So, without letting him think too much about your sudden acceptance, you took the boy's wrist in one hand and began to lead him out of there.

— Let's find somewhere to go. — You said, with an assurance that had never come through your voice before, which Mark seemed to like. Then he took the lead himself, gently leading you through the party with the calm of someone who seemed to have done it many times before - and he probably had. You mentally thanked him, because if you had to continue to pull up your little confident act, your knees might have given out. Or your stomach would explode. Something in between.

Suddenly, Mark stopped in front of a door, already on the second story of the house. You didn't even notice how your feet made it all the way up the stairs, but they did. He opens the door, but not before turning to look at you one last time, trying to make sure that was happening.

He enters the room before you and turns on the light, making you realize that it was a rather narrow bathroom. Your heart beats rapidly before you take the final steps towards that unexpected destination. You enter and close the door behind you. Mark leans lazily against the wall opposite to the sink, facing the bathroom mirror. He takes a deep breath, looks at the floor with a sly smile and says:

— I thought you hated me… — But you don't let him finish, because you quickly stand in front of him and put both hands behind the back of the head of the boy you hated. You see Mark's eyes widen one last time as he is interrupted, before you can bring your lips together in a rushed kiss.

Your nervous fingers run through the end of Mark's hair, which seemed freshly cut and slightly spiky. You smiled into the kiss at the tickling sensation, while he barely had time to react to your approach.

Then, when he finally understands, Mark pulls you close, holding your waist with both hands and spreading his legs to fit you between them. His grip is firm but still, as if he's nervous.

You continue to enjoy the moment, moving according to the rhythm between you, but always wanting more. The air in the bathroom seems increasingly thin, but the chaos of your mind barely lets you notice. You leave Mark's lips to make a trail of kisses between his chin and neck, hearing him sigh above you. You feel the warmth of his skin, and the short traces of freshly shaved beard on his face. It's only when Mark gently pulls his face away and leans his forehead against yours, pausing to take a deep breath, that you realize he's barely had time to think.

— Okay, hasty. — He lets out a weak laugh between sighs. — Now it's my turn.

Without letting you answer - and in a classic revenge move - Mark leans over until you have to walk backwards. His steps are short, but they work until your back hits the sink counter. His exposed arms encircle you, holding you firmly on the worktop as he brings his body closer to yours until you're completely touching.

You let out an exclamation before he presses your lips together again, this time taking the lead.

Mark's lips feel like uncharted territory, as this time he takes control. His kiss is firm, but not at all restrained. Slowly, you feel one of his hands rise from the counter and run down your spine from the base to the nape of your neck, tracing it with his fingers and leaving you extremely sensitive. At the nape of your neck, Mark's hand fiddles with your hair, precisely catching the strands in a ponytail that he pulls back slightly.

His index finger makes a few deft turns through the strand, twisting it until it is completely in his grasp. He squeezes your strands with a force that doesn't hurt, but makes you grunt into the kiss - which he answers with a smile.

Still enraptured by the unexpected movements, you barely notice when Mark's two hands gather around your thighs, pushing them up until you're sitting on the sink counter and he has to tilt his head slightly to avoid breaking the kiss. The ease with which he had lifted you, and without pulling away. Oh my God.

Jennie's words about Mark seem further and further away, as if they had been in another life. They also seem, fortunately or not, untrue.

"Lin said they kissed earlier in the evening, and he barely even moved! Can you believe that? ", you hear your friend's voice in your head. Oh, no… Lin must have been completely out of her mind.

But there's barely time to think about anything outside that small bathroom. Or at least not when Mark is running his tongue lightly over your lower lip before moving on to your neck. The warm breath against your cold skin sends shivers down your spine, and you wriggle under the boy's grip - which still hasn't left your thigh.

With no time to lose, you pull back on Mark's neck to press your lips together again, and he seems to love it. For a few more moments, you exchange hurried kisses and firm squeezes, until Mark's kiss begins to slow down, becoming even more attractive. The movement of your lips, so sure and certain, gradually stops, until he leaves a few lingering kisses and rests with your faces close together.

— I think you've proved me wrong. — You say, in a whisper, then let out a muffled laugh, unable to stop smiling.

— That's a shame… — He begins, tilting his head with a sideways smile. — Because if you weren't convinced, I'd have to keep proving it to you.

You face each other directly, and you can't help but roll your eyes at his comment, and then say:

— Mark Lee, you're an incredibly bad kisser.

— That's exactly what I wanted to hear. — He mumbles and moves closer again. You can still hear him let out one last dry, drawn-out laugh before closing your eyes and surrendering to the darkness.

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thatsatricky1 · 7 months

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𝐀𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝 || 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Abandoned. After going through hell and back together, she was left there to fend for herself. Y/n felt as though they’d left her in the dust at the facility. A facility that had taken young gifted children raising them in secret. The eight of them had been taken as children and grown up together at the facility and just when it they had the chance of escaping they made one crucial mistake, leaving her behind in the dust. One big mistake they hadn’t forgiven themselves for, and she would make sure they’d never forget it.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Nct Dream ot7 x Reader.

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: Angst, Fluff, Mystery, Psychological, Supernatural, Thriller, Trauma, Weird Humor.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Slight gore, mentions of blood, mentions of being wounded, angst, abandonment.

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: This does not depict an accurate picture of Nct Dream and this is strictly fantasy/fiction for entertainment purposes.

𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: Prologue + 5 Chapters.

𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 28,8k+

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⤻ Click here.

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞:

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‘𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧’ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈:

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‘𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐞?’ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐈:

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‘𝐃𝐨𝐯𝐞’ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐈𝐈:

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‘𝐅𝐨𝐱’ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐕:

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‘𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐒𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐞’ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐕𝐈:

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𝐊𝐩𝐨𝐩 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭:

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flashbangstars · 8 months

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How People Found out you two were dating

NCT Dream Edition

pink ~ y/n

Blue ~ dream

Green ~ secondary character/another dreamie

Mark

"so um Jeno found out about us dating"

"oh, I thought we were waiting until game night to tell them"

"well yeah uh funny story, I tried to put my sweatshirt on at Jeno's house and your hot pink thong fell out of the sleeve onto his carpet."

"I WAS WONDERING WHERE THAT WENT"

"Yeah I know me too, besides that. Jeno got mad and lectured me on not leading you on if I had other girls I was doing stuff with, so I uh.."

"you told Jeno the hot pink thong was mine"

"yeah basically"

"and I have to face him on friday knowing he's seen my panties"

"to be fair he did say they were cute"

"you know that actually didn't help at all"

Renjun

"hey babe can you help me really quickly, I need help moving my monitor, the cord is stuck somewhere behind my desk"

"Y/n can it wait like 10 minutes"

"No it literally can't I have a assignment due in thirty minutes and I will literally jump off a fucking cliff if I don't get full credit for this"

"Nice Hello Kitty Underwear"

"Renjun you're the one who bought me these, you've seen them and taken them off me numerous times"

"oh he has!! has he!"

"go put some pants on please sweetheart"

"I'm so fucking terrified why were their two different voices just now"

"Hi y/n"

"I'm gonna start crying please tell me Jaemin didn't just see me in fucking hello kitty underwear"

"Y/n please go put some pants on"

"yeah....yeah I'll go do that...... Uh just so you know....im not letting him hit for free.....he did ask me out"

"congrats to the happy couple"

"fuck you"

Jeno

"so how did you all manage to fail the same test?"

"I cheated off of Haechan, and Haechan Cheated off of Jaemin, so its basically Jaemin's fault"

"hey I thought Jaemin knew what he was doing"

"Haechan, Jaemin never knows what he is doing"

"fair"

"oh fuck, I have to go babe I'm gonna miss the bus if I dont run, I will see you soon" *phatass smooch before leaving* *leaves*

5 minutes later....

"alright I'm back I missed the bus"

"DID YALL JUST FUCKING KISS?"

"....no"

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN NO I FUCKING WATCHED IT HAPPEN"

"oh thats so crazy I think I just heard the bus, I have to go omg byeeeeee"

"so you're leaving me to deal with this"

"yes, bye pookie, smooches I'll see you later tonight, bye Haechan!"

Haechan

"are we gonna talk about it... or should I just ignore it"

"ignore what"

"im not following"

"are you two being serious"

"dude what the fuck are you talking about??"

"Haechan."

"what"

"you've been sitting in y/n's lap the entire time we've been here"

"and...?"

"we are literally just close friends"

"dog you are literally hand feeding haechan french fries"

"im literally baby"

"even that was a lot for me"

"im sorry pookie"

"allllriight get off, I wont be this couple"

"pookie did you just make it official!"

"can you please be normal"

Jaemin

"Hypothetically what do you guys consider too much for a gift for your significant other"

"well how long would you two have been dating"

"like 6 months...?"

"umm anything ring related, thats kinda scary, too reminiscent of marriage"

"well fuck"

"what do you mean oh fuck? what the fuck did you buy"

"a ring"

"what"

"what...."

"for who??"

"y/n"

"WHAT"

"Y/N?"

"WHY?"

"YOU'VE BEEN DATING FOR 6 MONTHS?"

"STOP YELLING AT ME"

Chenle

"the guys know you and me are dating"

"what? how"

"I got in trouble"

"what did you do..."

"they all got kinda mad at me and said I was kinda mean to you and asked what my issue with you was"

"and what did you say"

"please don't be mad"

"chenle"

"I told them not to worry because you think it's hot when I'm kinda mean"

"chenle"

they didn't believe me at first... and I was feeling pressured!...they literally cornered me!"

"chenle"

"so I showed them a little bit of our texts when you said...itwassexy whenIwasmeantoyou"

"run"

"I WILL TELL THEM ABOUT THE MOMMY KINK IF IT MAKES YOU FEEL BETTER?"

"run. now"

"ok!"

Jisung

"hey guys, just wanted to let you know me and jisung are dating now officially"

*shriek* "WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT!"

"Jisung what..."

"I DONT EVEN KNOW WHO YOU ARE"

"jisung park"

"please ma'am stop spreading that!"

"ANDY"

"I'm so sorry guys I dont know whats gotten into her!"

"jisung...She's literally your lockscreen"

"I literally have no idea what you are talking about"

"jisung I WILL do a coochie ban"

"this is actually bae 4 lyfe, she my day one and I worship the ground she walk on fr"

"thats what I thought"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Hi! here is a little something from the drafts that is basically finished, I hope you like it! I am fr just getting back into writing so excuse any errors. But i hope yall have a good night/day!

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lailalali · 15 days

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WHATS WRONG?? [mark lee smau] marked (S) for suggestive

notes! a short one but I think about this photo 24/7 it’s unhealthy. Send me all the fanfic with this pic as the inspo please!

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ddotorizgf · 6 days

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7 minutes in he(ll)aven

pairing ★ lee sohee x f!reader

summary ★ After a first heated exchange on twitter, Sohee and Y/N develop a quite complicated relationship. It gets harder for them to understand their feelings as fate keeps tugging them closer.

genre ★ enemies-to-lovers, slowburn, angst, fluff, suggestive, humour, smau

disclaimer ★ all characters are fictional, i dont claim any of the riize members. this work strictly belongs to ddotorizgf.

profiles ★ 95 problems + stfu eunseok

1. NARUTO remains

2. Kanthony

more to come...

TAGLIST IS OPEN

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yakuly · 1 year

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Golden Hour | Mark Lee

Pairing: Idol! MarkLee x NonIdol!FemaleReader

Words: 3.464

Warnings: VERY suggestive, mark calling reader "good girl", a basic mention of making out, and also insinuation of sex (if there's anything else, let me know:))

Summary: Mark release a new song, and wants to see his good girl reactions to it...

A.n: that's probably the 1.000.000 fic about golden hour you see through tumblr, but I just couldn't help myself. He's such a hottie calling cezienne good girl, it was my last straw! So I hope you enjoy this one too!

❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

Mark really values your opinion. Everytime he has a comeback, you are the first person out of the group to listen to it, and this time it wasn't different.

He's really excited for the release of "Golden Hour". When he produced with his friends, he got at home really excited because he felt it was "the" song, and you didn't doubted for a second.

But the thing is, Mark also have another reason to why he's so excited for you to listen to it, but he just couldn't say it. When writing, he thought about you and a specific line came up, and since then, he really wants to see your reaction.

He made you promise you wouldn't be listen to it until he got at home, and so you did. When he finally made it, it was clear as a day, how excited and energetic he was.

Mark made you sit at the couch, prepared the tv, and enjoyed the show. Unbeknownst to how he was sitting back at the couch to watch your reactions, you payed really good attention to the screen.

It was good. Like really good. It is undeniable that Mark is a hot guy, but seeing him at that music video, his low raspy voice, his attitude plus the guitar bass... It was too much to take it in. And then it came, hitting you hard...

"Ladies waited for me, good girl"

And he saw. He saw how your eyes got a little bit bigger, how you breath got stuck, and you moved a little bit in your spot. Once it ended, you took a deep breath and looked at him. Mark wore a smirk on his face, and you couldn't not focus on his lips. His lips that said those sinful words seconds ago.

"So?" He asked, leaning in closer to you, and once again your breath got stuck. Coughing a little bit, you smiled and thought about something nice that could match house you felt about it. "You are really something else, Mark Lee", you said leaning in to kiss him, but before you could, he didn't let you, making you pout a little.

"What part you liked the most?" He asked, his smirk getting wider. You almost rolled your eyes, but you really wanted to kiss him, so you said the first thing it came to mind: "when you call Ramsey"

Mark then laughed a little bit, but only because he saw you, but he wanted to hear from you. His hands went for your face, caressing you cheek, lingering it to your jaw, holding your face more firmly.

The action completely took you buy surprise, making you gasp. Lee lowered his voice, making it rasped like at the song, "are you sure baby?" Once he done talking, his thumb went to your lower lip, letting go gently. "I saw you, why don't you just say it?"

"You really need me to, right?" You look at him, almost annoyed from his antics, but in reality, aroused by it. He didn't need to answer you this time, so you just admited "fine, I liked when you said good girl"

Mark smile it was the last thing you saw before being completely engolfed buy him. His lips finally made into yours, in a needy yet sensual way. He was really into the moment, bringing your face closer to his, one of his hands in your hair, and the other one strongly squeezing your thigh.

"What a good girl" he pulled away for a second only to say that, and that's when you lost the whiling to control yourself. You then pushed him against the couch and pulling your own body on his laps. It's his turn to be eyes wide, and pure shock, but amousement. "Shit baby, if I knew you liked that I would had made the song a long ago" he said, smiling against your lips.

"If wanted to call me good girl this bad, you didn't had to make a song," you said after leaving kisses through his neck. You holder his face before continuing "all you had to do is say it"

Your lips couldn't stay a part for longer, and his hands definitely loved holding and grabbing your thighs and butt. Fact that you didn't complained at all, since it was helping you to move on his lap, feeling his jeans getting tight.

"Baby, you got a really big problem" you use his lyrics against him, after making his face get slightly apart from yours, griping his hair, making him moan.

Mark smirk for the ninth time that day, before getting up, and taking you by surprise, by taking you with him "Is my good girl going to help me?" He slaps hard your but, making you moan in his ears, gigling before saying "as long as you keep calling me like that, you can whatever you want".

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tenderlyrenjun · 1 year

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7Dream and bouts of some relationship insecurity

I don't really know how to title this, but yeah ...

includes ... making out, suggestive/implied sexual content, light swearing, references to fist fights, alcohol mentions, food mentions, jealousy/insecurity, vague choking; Juyeon cameo, hey babe ... also, I got carried away with one of these because I originally had it as part of a fic but I just deleted the fic instead so, yeah, sorry, you can ... really tell which one it is ._. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. YOU GET BLOCKED AND REPORTED.

Mark Lee

"Hey, man, come on. That's my girl."

The single sentence took less than a minute, but the conversation ended with Mark's fist through the guy's jaw and with security escorting all five of you - you, Mark, Jaemin, Renjun, and Yeein - out the back door. Everyone else opted to head home, since the entrance fee was, like, ₩50,000 to account for weekend tax.

Mark barely managed a quick good-bye over the driver's door before you slammed your own door shut. You probably should have driven, since his knuckles continuously cracked along the steering wheel, but driving relaxes him, something he needed, especially after that incident. Some guy kept chatting you up, standing way too close, borderline touching your ass, even though you redirected away from him, several times. And Mark knows, and trusts, that you would never leave him, much less cheat on him; he has the upmost faith in you, if his constant words of affirmation are anything to believe, but that does not mean he has to trust everyone else, epsecially when alcohol comes into the mix, heightening emotions too much. And he didn't blame you - doesn't blame you. You look hot, something on which he commented ... very enthusiastically before even going to the bar, with your satin mini-dress, a small (literally) article he bought while thinking about you on a work trip.

But as he sped down to your apartment, you - his passenger princess - pointed your knees at the window, just generally looking away from him. He cramped his fingers on the steering wheel that time, flooring the gas pedal. Then, you, silently, guided him into your apartment, sitting him down in the bathroom, where you, now, wrap his knuckles.

Mark watches you take a salve, applying it via cotton swab over the dried blood, accidentally reopening the would, much to his grimace. Though, he says nothing. The frown embedded between your brows and the heavy breathing in the room prevents him from opening his mouth. So, he lets you paw at his hand, only letting out soft grunts when you overextend his thumb (it got caught on the guy's jaw after Mark went in for a third punch). Eventually, you finish with the salve, wiping away the excess with toilet paper, and you get up, walking out the small half-bathroom.

"I'm sorry," Mark calls softly. He half hopes you don't hear him, over the blaring air vent, because you still have yet to even look at him, in the eye, since you got in his shiny, red car. But, still, you return; eyes trained on the ground though, waving a beige roll of adhesive tape. And he repeats it, even gentler, saying your name this time, "Babe?"

"Hmm?"

"I said I'm sorry."

You stare at him, for awhile. He sees your eyes scan his face, probably lingering at the one or two cuts from when that guy landed a blow, and your fingers slip, accidentally fastening the bandage around his abductor muscle. And Mark resets his jaw, with his prettier hand, just thinking about the bar incident all over again. But then, your face drops, into your lap, and his face drops.

"No, yeah, I heard," you return, sighing, then unwrap his hand to fix your mistake. "I," you swallow thickly, licking your lips, refocusing on his fingers. Gingerly you turn them over in your polished hands, grazing his purpling skin comfortingly. "You don't have to be sorry," you say softly, "I just ... I didn't ..." You pause, dropping his hand back in his thigh, and kneel between his legs. "I didn't know you could be that kind of hot," you confess, smile fighting its way onto your face. You let out a breathless chuckle, cutting it short when you bite your lip. So, Mark pulls it from your teeth, palm brushing into your cheek. "You ... were really ... sexy." You run your hand up and down his inner thigh, and his knee twitches. "Normally, you, um, you use your words." You look up at him through your lases, teetering on your knees, still wearing that short, satin dress he bought, the loose neckline swaying teasingly. "And you're really good with your words."

Mark bites his lip this time, shifting his hips down the toilet seat on where he sits. "Gotta - Gotta defend my girl, yanno?"

You stand on your knees, taller, and Mark gets even closer, the two of you a magazine-width apart. His palm lowers down your cheek, down your jaw, settling above your collarbone. He presses, gently, at first, then squeezes around your neck, entire upper body shuddering. You breathe upward, on his lips, seam of your mouth breaking with each gasp, then move first, straddling his legs, drawing closer - yet so far - to his face.

"Well, you got your girl," you whisper. And his hand squeezes again, holding you at a distance to hear what you say, even though he keeps tilting his head across your pretty collar. "What are you gonna do now?"

Huang Renjun

You take off your couple bracelet, leaving it in the key dish by the door, before heading to work, and Renjun found it, an hour later, when he was running late to the office. He said nothing, that night, collapsing in bed before you even finished your evening skincare routine. Then, you changed your phone case to some new otterbox, replacing his matching universe one, as you both went out to dinner with Juyeon and Jun. Still, Renjun said nothing, holding the elevator door open for you and a few older ladies. The following weekend, he plucked up the courage, before a brunch date, to bring up another couple accessory before you could show him its absence:

"Are you going to wear your ring today?"

You pause, in front of the vanity mirror, steel makeup spatula a hair away from your cheek, and look at him through his reflection. Renjun gnaws inside his bottom lip. He stands at the foot of your shared bed, his coat strewn over the neatly pleated duvet. Oppositely - as oppositely has you have been from him this week - you sit across the room, at the small dressing table, still wearing your bathroom, hair wet in the front where you have yet to blow dry. Eventually, after an eternity, you turn to face him, placing the spatula, elevated, on the open foundation cap.

"I don't know," you confess slowly. "Should I?"

Renjun inhales sharply. "It's your choice," he emphasizes. But he shows you his silver ring on his right hand, the accessory pinched before his pinky. "I'm wearing mine."

You turn back to the mirror and finish applying the sunscreen, simply nodding at him, acknowledging his statement - neither confirming nor denying your own end. He thinks you might continue like that - passive aggressive - for the rest of the day, through the entire date even, but you surprise him, rotating again. You sigh, once, breaking the seam between your lips, then close them again, tongue cleaning your teeth, obviously. He waits another second, giving you the space to organize your thoughts. And you finally speak.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, staring at the ground. You swallow thickly, just once, then look at him, repeating, "I'm sorry, Junjun." You swallow again, blinking more rapidly, and Renjun crosses the room to hug you, your hands instantly climbing around his waist as he cradles your head against his stomach, your tears ruining his button-up shirt. "I know that I've been impossible lately," you confess, "I just ... Seeing someone else hit on you last week didn't ... It didn't feel good."

"I didn't know," Renjun admits, "that you felt that way."

"I didn't want you to know," you muffle, pawing his shirt.

"But you have to tell me," he says, "when I do something that makes you feel bad, especially if I don't catch on in the moment. I love you, only you." He kisses the top of your head. The hostess, at dinner last week, hit on him when she thought he came alone, but he was just reserving the table for you two; then, she persisted through the dinner, only stopping 30-minutes later, after you and he stayed later than her shift. But still, she left her number for him, much to both your annoyances. Though, it seems as though his annoyance wasn't evident enough. "Next time, I'll stop it sooner, I promise." He detaches your face from his shirt and cups your cheeks, thumbs brushing away loose tears. "Do you still want to go to brunch?"

You shake your head, no, and apologize, "Not really. Sorry."

"Don't apologize," he whispers, pecking you quickly. "I'll order us some fried rice from the restaurant across town and make it up to you in bed."

Lee Jeno

It happened a couple days ago, last weekend, but Jeno has been ruminating - through all the car rides to work, all the mundane chores around the apartment, all the lonesome meals he has to eat while you work from your office - about that barista who asked for your number.

You didn't hand it out, obviously, only shooting a raised eyebrow until you got your card back. And Jeno ... he kinda just clung to you the rest of the date - making you sit in his lap, head on your shoulder, arms tight around your waist, which had you asking to use the bathroom. He knows that his behavior persisted home, over, essentially, the week, creating this ... this distance between the two of you - during drama marathons when you would otherwise cuddle; during dinners alone together in your apartment, during sex, but he can't help it: he got in his own head about it. Not even rebuilding his LEGO bonsai tree could mediate his thoughts.

And he tried.

Jeno ended up going through the motions, blindly attaching turntables to tyres, while he stared more at the coffee table than pieces. Then, you came home, as he finished assembling the cherry blossom stems (he did the green foliage, too, not yet having a preference for either), and sat on the floor with him, leaning your cheek on his shoulder, nuzzling into his hoodie.

"I missed you."

Jeno shrugs, not enough to shove you off though because your cheek rolls a little further on his chest, immobilizing his left arm. "You saw me this morning."

"Yeah, but -" You slide into his lap, resting your head over his thighs. He lifts his elbows a little higher, as you squirm around, nudging your face toward the ceiling, though you stare at him, only him. It gives him some comfort, and his hand moves automatically, coming down to caress your face. "- I don't know," you confess, "I guess I just felt a little ..." You scrunch your nose, and he rubs away the lines in your cheeks, making you grab his wrist, dragging him onto your stomach, twiddling with his long, nimble fingers. "... insecure? Lonely? Maybe?"

"Is that a question?"

"No," you shake your head. You turn on your side, burying your face in his abdomen. Jeno drops the remaining LEGO pieces and threads his free hand in your hair, matting it backwards. You sigh, deeply, "I guess I might just need some extra support, or something, right now. I love you, you know."

"Mmhmm," he nods, because he does know, that you love him. "I love you, too." It's just that Jeno doesn't like the idea of someone occupying your time the way he should. So, he lays down on the ground, too, scooting back a bit until you're face-to-face, albeit upside down, like a Spider-Man kiss. And he blinks up from your lips to eyes, seeing you watch him. "I'm sorry," he apologizes first.

You offer him a small smile. "You don't have to be sorry. It's not your fault." Tentatively, you stutter a hand toward his hair, only digging your fingers in his scalp after he nods an okay, though he also confirms that he thinks it's his fault, from how much he has been pulling away this week. "I just need some extra support, if you're able."

"And if I'm not?"

You tilt your head to the side, and Jeno frowns.

"If I'm not enough?" he clarifies.

"Then," you kiss him quickly before he can respond, elongating it for another moment, "we can support each other." You hold his chin still, staring him in the eyes. "But you are," you enunciate, "enough, more than enough."

Lee Haechan

You should have stayed home.

Really.

Haechan didn't even want to go out, didn't even want to come to the restaurant. He was content staying at home, drinking wine from tumblers rather than these elongated goblets; he already bought you flowers. You don't need to hold a glass stem and drink wine over an unreasonably exorbitant dinner. He has the same wine at home(!), the exact same Boudreaux you ordered, and he can make a steak just as well.

Okay, maybe not, but he can have Jaemin make a steak for you just as well as the chef at this restaurant, or he could order it to home. Or you could eat the really good lobster that his mom made him take yesterday. And you could pop open the rosé, over rose-scented candles, instead of the cheap taper candle - a single one - decorating your current tablecloth. There are people, too, sitting so much closer than he would like, preventing him from having an actual conversation with you.

Oh, and it got worse when the waiter started flirting with you.

At first, neither of you noticed, focused more on the menu, debating between steak or mushroom bruschetta to pair with the Boudreaux you love. Then, you laughed at some stupid joke, politely, probably, if Haechan were more level-headed, less peeved, and the waiter started flirting more enthusiastically.

"Babe?"

"Hmm?" You tilt your chin at him, still swirling your wine, reading off the drinks list.

"Baby," he tries again, whining the last syllable further. And you toss him a short glance, smile extending longer than your gaze. "Baby," he sighs, "can't you pay attention to me?"

"I am," you answer, and finally put down the small menu, but you stay there, far away from him. So, Haechan stands up, halfway, pulling your chair next to his until he sits down with his arm behind your shoulders. Haechan touches his forehead on yours, making you maintain eye contact, noses brushing together. "What's wrong, my love?" you ask him, rubbing his free arm.

In lieu of an answer, he drops his hand down your knee, curling under your skirt.

"My love?" you try again.

And he stops moving his hand up your dress, stopping as far as your thighs separate, fingers itching toward your underwear. He exhales once, twice, breath shaking, then looks at you through his glasses. "I like it when you call me that."

"What? My love?"

Haechan nods. "Makes me feel like I'm yours," he mumbles.

You giggle at him, patting his arm. "Because you are, dummy." You peck his lips, falling back into your chair before he has the chance to deepen the kiss. He feels like he lost you again tonight, or like he has the potential to lose you, so he tenses his fingers between your thigh, opposite hand incidently rocking your chair up so high that you slide into his lap. "My love," your breath hitches again.

And Haechan nods, kissing your neck a little longer, tongue tracing his name in your skin.

"Yours." ♡

Na Jaemin

Honestly, he shouldn't be staring. But Jaemin could burn a hole in your head, or obliterate that guy you're with - Juyeon, or Juhyon, or something.

It was a coincidence that Jaemin even sees you here, at this nightclub, with an absurd ₩70,000 entrance fee. Mark only convinced him to go after promising to do his scut for the weekend.

That, and Jaemin may or may not have been stalking your Instagram; especially after you removed him from your close friends story - he knows, because Renjun is still on your list. You pushed him onto some other list with more people he couldn't see, not that he knew anyone on your following; you're not even really friends, just met through Renjun at some hookup party. And you do hookup with him, whenever he calls, which isn't as often as he thought, evidently, he considers now, since he apparently doesn't know what you do the other days of the week.

Like wear that black mini-dress while dancing on Juyeon, of all people.

Jaemin rolls his eyes and sips his beer, wincing in the same second when it touches his lips (Haechan is a liar, and he is not taking beer recommendations ever again). He has been waiting for about 15 or 20 minutes, for you to notice him, just acknowledge that he is here, in the same space as you, but you remain oblivious, sliding your arms in the air, shimming in front of Juyeon, who keeps trying to bring your waist close. It takes another ten minutes before he slams his empty glass on the bar, spinning around to trudge the dance floor.

Except, as he spins around, narrowly missing a line of Kamikaze shots placed a little too close to the edge, he bumps into you, literally. His arm swerves over your head, and he takes a step back to avoid making the both of you fall down. And you catch his waist, with both hands, a short leg stepping between his, for balance, his spinning head tells him.

"Jaemin?" you call, standing on your toes to whisper in his ear. Instinctively, he steadies your waist, toppling your heels down to the ground, leaning his ear to your lips. "Did you hear me?"

The Jaemin in question pulls back, slightly, his nose grazing yours. He flickers his eyes up and finds you staring at him, granted less intense than he had been, breath hitched at the back of your mouth, slowly scanning his entire face. Jaemin brushes your hair behind your ear, needlessly, most of it tied up. The glitter stickers highlight the actual makeup high on your cheekbones, under the blue false lashes mixed in with brown ones. His hand lingers over your face, wrist tilting head back, chin up, long fingers making you stand still, gaze dipping back and forth between your lips and eyes. And fortunately, all the other couples - whether they came together or hooked up - blend you two with the rest of the crowd, little bubbles of intimacy keeping everyone separated. You all ignore each other, per atmosphere, so Jaemin takes the opportunity to kiss you.

"No," he confesses, pecking you quickly, once, twice, three times, dragging your neck along with every move he does to deepen it. "I wasn't listening." Jaemin breaks first, squeezing your waist tighter, because you might have to get back to Juyeon on the dance floor. And he closes his eyes, leaning in again, lips ghosting a breath over yours. "Come home with me," he asks, and he squeezes again. "Just ... come home with me."

"Jaemin ..." you start, but he kisses his name off your lips, even quicker, replacing it with a soft moan. He bumps you against the bar, his knuckles taking most of the blunt force, against the wood, holding you steady as he waddles impossibly close. You seem to respond, fingers dipping into his bicep, puckering back. Then, you shake your head, knocking him away. "Jaemin, I'm here with someone else."

"Don't be. Come home with me." Jaemin's voice cracks, "Please? Just be with me, not him." He squeezes you again, stuttering down your lips, slotting his leg between your knees. Jaemin peeks both his eyes open, just a crack, and finds you nodding at him.

"Okay, let's go."

Zhong Chenle

"Your shirt looks so nice," the girl at his left compliments, fawning over the empty seat, even though she probably can't see the full Go, Go, Power-Rangers logo under both his bomber jacket and the dim club lights. The sole light source comes from the shelves behind the bar on which Chenle leans, only his brown hair shining obviously as he nods, slowly, eyes trained on the path to the bathroom. "I'd love to see it more," she tries, leaning even closer, almost touching his arm.

Then, he raises his hand, sliding further down the bar.

And you walk toward him, waving, "Hey," all the way until you take the stool he saved for you on his right. You also grab the glass of wine he kept not-so-subtly hidden behind his elbow and eye the meniscus without looking at him. "Have you been drinking my wine?"

Chenle just smiles at you. His arm snakes under your arms, high on your torso, as he nuzzles into your neck, chest prepped to laugh, but you smack him.

"You can order your own!"

He kisses your jugular, just once, briefly, giggling more animatedly than he had been talking to the girl, who is still there (!) by the way.

"I did," Chenle answers, "but I think the bartender likes you more. He didn't pay any attention to me while you were gone those whole ten minutes," he pouts.

"Umm," the girl interrupts, "Excuse me?"

"Mmm," you swallow the remaining ounce of wine and put it back behind Chenle on the table, tapping the rim twice at one of the bartenders for a refill. You extend your arm for a handshake, across your boyfriend's chest, but she just stares at it, at your fingers, at the matching, dainty watch adorning your wrist, until you retract, both hands now resting on Chenle's shoulder. "Did you want to drink with us? We're just waiting for our table." You lean in closer, like giving away a secret, and Chenle laughs into the air, catching your waist before you fall off the stool. "We got here early for the cucumber martinis because they stop serving them at 7, and this one -" You point at Chenle. "- can't mix a drink for shit."

"Hey!" He pulls you upright, standing full in front of you, back toward the girl as he fixes the straps of your dress. "I spike your lemonades just fine." The bartender, who ignored him earlier, gives him a suspicious look, to which Chenle tries to wave off, showing that you are his girlfriend who frequents his home and has sex with him willingly. And he brings you down the stool, under his wing, incidentally flashing his inappropriate-for-a-Michelin-restaurant Power Rangers t-shirt. "Plus, I don't have to mix the Sauvignon Blanc when I cook you dinner."

"No," you crinkle your nose, pushing his face away, laughing at his pout. "You just make me wash the dishes." In the minute beat, you look back, over his shoulder, and see the girl finally gone, then you settle back onto the stool, pulling Chenle, by his open jacket, between your legs. "Oh, no," you feign, pouting and running your hands down his sides, "Your new friend left. Do you think it was my fault?"

Chenle kisses the top of your head, giggling into your hair. "Were you jealous?" he teases. You don't answer; you just bite your lip and trap him tighter, heels almost making him plié before you, fists wrinkling his shirt. "You don't have anything to worry about, princess," he whispers and pecks you quickly. "You're my one and only. I wouldn't do anything to create a misunderstanding like that." He kisses you deeper, attaching his hands down your waist, rubbing circles with his thumbs, as you wrap your arms around his neck, half standing off the chair to kiss him better, the sweet red wine taste staining your tongue. "With anyone," he clarifies, palm caressing your cheek, to stop you from jumping his bones in this very public bar-restaurant. "You know you're my girl."

He kisses you again, pressing your back into the bar, folding your neck 90-degrees against your spine. Your chin rolls around, letting out a silent open-mouthed moan, and Chenle slips his tongue down your throat, dissipating that sweet, dry flavor off your lips, gently breathing life back into your mouth. He rubs the hair in front of your ear, thumb growing outward to draw his three-letter initials on your cheeks. You kick your leg up, inner thigh resting on his outer one. He feels your dress slip up, shorter, over his pants, and whimpers a small praise about your soft lips.

Then, the bartender who shows you a little too much favoritism comes back, tapping your cup on the counter, and Chenle, panting, shields you away from the new glass of wine, frowning at all five ounces.

"On second thought, maybe we should just go home."

Park Jisung

Jisung pulls you into his chest, around your shoulders, spinning you until your back faces that bartender, the one at whom he glares.

"How's your drink, baby?" he asks through shaky breath, teeth gritted. Jisung puffs out his chest too, while you finish another sip, nearly moaning, and pushes his thumb into his pocket, readjusting the front of his leather pants that you hide.

"Mmm, fresh,." you answer, obliviously, wiping the corner of your mouth with your index finger, platinum couple ring shining a few digits down under the colorful changing lights. You smack your painted pink lips together, loud enough for him to hear above the club music. "Can't even taste the vodka, really, and -" You raise the small glass to his lips, prompting him to sample your free drink, too, which he does, tongue pushing back on the rip before you spill all over his white shirt. "- the cucumbers are still crisp."

Jisung nods, a slice hitting his top lip. He has to hold your wrist still when you start trembling, splashing a drop of alcohol on his chest. You do nothing about it, simply curling into his torso, an arm belting behind his waist, feet waddling around his, resting your cheek between his open jacket zippers.

"Better be," he mumbles, chest vibrating.

"What was that?" you ask, almost innocently, staring at him through your eyelashes, cucumber martini glass finding your hand behind his back. And he wonders whether you looked at that guy - the bartender - like this, wide-eyed and pouting, tongue poking through the seam of your lips, when you got this free drink, never mind tonight's sample offer over the experimental martini. "Ji...sung," you hiccup between his name, placing a hand over his chest, his heart.

But he frowns, even deeper, and takes down your hand. A little too forcefully, given the way you step back, on your own, wobbling backwards over your heels. You tilt your head to the side, not-so-subtly checking him out, and raise an eyebrow. Jisung doesn't bother to look at you, simply inhaling, raising his broad shoulders taller. He rolls his eyes to the right, incidentally at the bar, with the bartender. And he glares again.

Jisung tightens his arm around your waist. And he knows - he knows how this looks: possessive, possibly overbearing, protective, which is what he half-wants. He also knows that he indirectly tells you not to touch, despite holding you closer, his fingers clenching into a fist that pushes you deeper into his wide chest. You hand balances over his pec to keep you both balanced upright without anything behind him to catch either of you from falling.

But he mumbles, "Don't touch," teeth nearly scraping each other, individually, and, again, he takes your hand down, making you frown as equally deep, though your brows furrow as high as your gaze. You wrap all your fingers around your cup, and he curls his hands into your dress, digging toward the hem, incidentally pulling the material up, just below your underwear. "I don't like you flirting with other guys," he confesses, eyes fluttering shut.

Jisung's hands grab you simultaneously, in the same way, one at your waist and the other at your neck; your own hands bracing your cup against his chest. He sighs, dropping his chin down your cheek, pressing a kiss behind your ear. Your drink is still an inconvenience. So, Jisung takes it, placing it on a random table, then drags you into a private room and jostles you against the door, accidentally increasing the distance. He just moved too fast, and you still comply, not touching him. In the wait, you lick your lips, chest heaving high. And he pushes you backwards again, slower this time, by your hips, guiding you onto a firm surface as he descends. He stops halfway, drawing back a millimeter on his next breath, flickering his eyes at yours. They're already closed. So, he leans in.

"You should only be flirting with me."

And he almost closes his eyes, too, pausing halfway again to watch you anticipate his kiss, teetering on your toes, fingers twitching toward him. The urge to blink forces him to look away before he sees you pout, equally. But he feels it.

Jisung feels the way you roll around your head as he opens his mouth wide, searching for the best angle to kiss you. He puckers his lips sideways, simply pressing on your mouth, almost cutting off your response (if you were going to say anything). And when you gasp, silently, letting him sneak his bottom lip between your teeth, he cracks open his eyes, only slightly, enough to make sure that you're enjoying this, enjoying him, only him. You bite him on a close, barely using your teeth to keep him from leaving again, and he runs his thumb along the side of your face, outside your ear, long fingers supporting your head when you falter.

But you don't pull away.

Instead, you fist his shirt, incidentally pulling it from his pants. And he drives you into the wall, changing the slope of his nose, reflecting it over yours on the other side, brows falling further. Jisung catches you right as you lick your lips and sucks your tongue in his mouth. You mewl, breathless, something audible - although incoherent - finally escaping. And he returns it, moaning an mmmh. His hand at your waist, hits the wall, bracing himself from going too far, moving too fast. You drag him closer, one thigh between your legs, fingers touching his Adonis belt.

And he has to pull away first.

"I don't like you flirting with other guys," he repeats, more winded this time.

"You're the only guy I want to flirt with, Jisung."

#nct dream fanfic #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #nct suggestive #nct fanfic #renjun x reader #mark lee x reader #park jisung x reader #jeno x reader #jaemin x reader #haechan x reader #nct dream reactions #nct reactions #nct dream drabbles #nct drabbles #mia.txt

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backtoyuta · 5 months

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NCT 127 college series- how you first meet

Pairing: Yuta x Reader

warnings: none

A fluffy 127 drabble where Yuta is a flirty sob. No smut but a tad suggestive- 1 in the where you meet 127 at college series

I will never get over college aus. They are my bread and butter.

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Yuta was one of those unlikely friendships that blossomed in potentially the most disastrous of settings. You hated group projects with a passion, there was always one that was super disorganised, and you felt the immense pressure of not being that person in question too. You remember vividly your tutor reading out the list of names- perking at the sound of your own and then flicking your eyes instinctively to Yuta when his was called promptly after.

You glanced away quickly when his aloof expression trained on you, his eyes observing but face unchanging. You scrambled for your belongings as soon as the lecture was over, one of your group-mates muttering about making a group chat with a sullen tone. It would be a little while until Yuta and yourself spoke, your only interaction being the insane sexual tension when it was just you two on the google slides at 1 in the morning.

"This seat free?" Chimed a voice from beside you, Yuta sank into the seat after you shook your head no and shoved some of your stationary aside on the table, the sound a little too awkward and loud for a library.

"I see you were pulling a late one last night," he continued playfully, his tongue pushed to the inside of his cheek as he opened his laptop- something he did a lot.

"I could say the same for you... How's the research going?" His eyes twinkled hearing your reply and his slender fingers typed rapidly. He showed you his research proudly, a substantial amount of work and organised neatly- thank God someone was pulling their weight.

"Let's see what you have" and he leaned closer to see your screen, causing a waft of his cologne to hit you subtly. You let him scroll through your slides, the corner of his mouth turning up at your intelligent use of jargon.

"Wow... Nice Y/N, very nice"

"Oh it gets even better."

"Oh?"

"yeah..." You pulled up your bibliography and sat back, his expression twisting and he let out an exaggerated groan, causing you to laugh and shush him simultaneously, all the while glancing around at anyone hearing your conversation.

"Cited sources, that's what gets you going?" You scoffed sarcastically, eyeing him up and down.

"Listen, my group last time had me in the trenches... I was the backbone of the whole thing." He jokingly shuddered and you laughed at his quip, the two of you settling down and continuing to work on your portions of the work. Your time working together was time you got to know each other beyond an acquaintance in your class. Being with Yuta was thrilling, mostly because he was the type of person you knew you would never have been friends with outside of these circumstances. He was a creative, opinionated, and had a torturous sense of humour- something he adored weaponizing and using to make you squirm.

He couldn't help but coo internally when he would spout an abundance of lies, and watch you intently as you went through the motions of nodding naively, process what he said and then playfully go to hit his chest lightly while he laughed and dodged you in satisfaction. You became accustomed to strolling over to the library to work together, sending him sly texts when you saw him pop up on google slides, and exchanging smiles when you caught him with his group of friends. Occasionally he liked to drag you over for a chat, sling an arm around your shoulder and keep you there until you could say your goodbyes and continue on to wherever you were going.

The tension only increased when you progressed to working at each other's dorms. It was hard to tell which was the lesser of two evils; all your friends in your flat were nosey and wanted all the details about the hot guy you brought round to study with, and Yuta lived in a stereotypical guy-dorm. Today, you opted for skilfully dodging the pizza boxes piled by the door and let yourself be led down the narrow corridor into Yuta's compact, but relatively tidy room.

Yuta settled on his bed with his back leaning against the wall, beckoning you to come and sit beside him while shimmying his laptop and books out of his bag. As soon as you were sat, the air became a little thicker, his form was incredibly warm against yours in the small room and his signature scent that always clung to him was much more potent in his space.

Yuta was always very frugal and complicit with physical contact; he had no issue with his friends resting, leaning, clinging on him, so you tried very hard to pay no mind when he pressed his side up to yours to place the laptop between you. You had to force your heartrate to slow and for your hands to stop shaking when he handed you a piece of paper, the tremor catching his attention- to his delight.

"Am I making you nervous?" His tone felt a little too serious, and his voice was a little lower than the clear tone he usually sang out.

"No." You replied, a little too quickly, and you caught the smirk gracing his features in the reflection of the laptop screen. "It's probably the coffee... I'm fine." You made a point of shoving a pillow behind your back and cracking on, Yuta's chuckle sounding in the mostly quiet room. He didn't budge an inch, his jeans still pressed up against your leg and the slightly bony part of his shoulder level with your head.

You were working efficiently, the sun had set a while ago so Yuta illuminated the room with a lamp, casting a warm glow. At some point you became quite lethargic, the warmth of the room and Yuta being so close was like a blanket, and the quietness that was interrupted minimally by the soothing sound of typing caused a fog in your brain. Your eyes continued to close against your will, and you had to force the yawns away while trying to subtly jerk your body awake.

"Why don't you just take a nap?" Yuta laughed lightly, watching your eyelids flutter. He couldn't suppress his giggle, his shoulder shaking causing your head to almost vibrate when he noticed you had typed a stream of full stops and commas in your writing; you must've left your fingers on the keys when you dozed off for the umpteenth time.

You only grumbled in response, determined to shake the tiredness off, but that was proving impossible. Ignoring your light whine of confusion, Yuta brushed his fingers over your thigh as he lifted your laptop off your lap, and lightly pushed your shoulder so you were resting horizontal with your head nestled in a pillow.

"I won't bother you." Yuta smiled, his eyes still trained on his work. He tugged your T-shirt down once in a gentle manner from where it had ridden up your back, and you almost flinched where his cool fingertips came into contact with your exposed skin. Your heart was fluttering at being casually manhandled, but you let out a quiet sigh of agreement when you settled into the mattress, your eyes closing automatically.

You woke disorientated, the light outside gone completely and the only parts visible was the illumination of street lights and buildings. Yuta was slouched in his desk chair, a book open in front of him but he was watching some kind of sports game in Japanese on his laptop on the lowest volume.

"What time is it?" You grumbled, still confused, dehydrated, too hot and tangled in blankets.

"Late. I'll walk you home... You want something to eat?" Yuta rolled his chair over to where you were sitting up, reaching out casually to move some of your hair that had become mussed back to their original position. The mention of food made you conscious of how hollow your stomach felt and you nodded sleepily, head bowed at how Yuta looked at your endearing form shyly.

You did get some food, and after Yuta helped you gather together your belongings that had scattered around the bed he held your jacket open for you to slip your arms in, flung your backpack over his shoulder and walked you out, making casual conversation on the way home.

The time eventually came to show your group presentation, and he smiled widely at you when you sighed out, relieved the whole thing was over and done with.

"You should come over tonight," he spoke seriously, those infamous dark eyes looking you up and down as he poked his tongue into the inside of his cheek

"The presentation is over Yuta, we can chill." You squirmed under his gaze, but made a point of throwing him a friendly smile as if to part ways, grabbed your bag and turned to exit.

Before you could turn fully, Yuta reacted quick and grasped your hoodie-clad wrist lightly, preventing your leave.

"Hm? I didn't mean to work." His tone was light hearted but his expression was almost sinister, his eyes glinted and mouth quirked into a smile… and he was still holding your sleeve. Letting the last of the class stragglers pass by behind you and out the door you felt your stomach flip in excitement and your knees shake. Yuta continued to stare you down, taking a sadistic enjoyment at you blush and fumble to try and formulate an answer.

The lecturer rushed out a goodbye and also disappeared out the door of the lecture theatre, leaving you entirely alone in the aisle nearest the exit; the rows and rows of seats looking vast and empty now it was just the two of you. You stepped back towards the wall to gain some distance, purely out of self preservation, but Yuta leaned up casually on the wall behind you. He wasn't a whole lot taller than you, but his dominance was omnipresent as he waited patiently for your answer.

“Yeah… sounds… good” the words catching in your throat slightly. He chuckled again, his dark expression mollifying into something more friendly. The air turned stiff as he acknowledged your answer, it was like he was completely aware of his effect on you and wanted to exploit it as much as was in his power.

"See, I do make you nervous." He smiled, once again amused at how you bore his torment. You shook your head slightly and dared to look at his dark eyes that glinted down at you. At this point you easily could've slipped away, he had let your wrist go, but the thrill of the moment was keeping your feet firmly planted. You wanted to prove he didn't turn you into the puddle he was so sure he did. Even if your from was melting under his gaze as we speak.

"You're delusional." You muttered, your face twisting into an expression of mirth as he breathed out a laugh through his nose, and he leant his upper body lower to be closer to your ear.

"Am I? So it doesn't bother you when I do this?" He feigned innocence despite one hand still placed on the wall to entrap you and the fingers of his other hand trailing up your clothed spine. He forced a leg between the two of yours, effectively parting them and leant so close to your ear that you could feel his cool, minty breath tickling your neck.

He muttered something in Japanese, his mother tongue spilling from his lips fluidly and sensually, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear caused your hair to stand on end. He trailed his hand up further behind you and toyed with your hair, and he punctuated his words with a snicker as your breath caught. Your body contradicted itself, trying to escape the ticklish feeling of his fingers on your back but also wanting to refrain from giving him a reaction at all. You were absolutely certain that whatever he murmured so wickedly in your ear was the most perverted thing he could muster, his teasing expression gave you that much, but you breathed a sharp breath and once again looked up bravely.

"Nope." You popped, deadpan, but still fighting the urge to shiver and shimmy away from his expert touch.

"No?" Leaning in again, he muttered more in a foreign language. His tone was practically purring as he bemused at your confused expression, and reached the hand that was walking up and down your spine to your head to move some hair off your face.

"What are you saying?" You questioned defeated, your tone a little whinier that what you would have liked but his sultry actions were making a potent mixture of heat and frustration pool in your stomach.

"Can I show you?" He offered, his eyes searching yours for an ounce of discomfort. You relaxed your body in his hold and once again a devilish smirk pulled at his features. He looked down intently at your lips as you nodded naively at his request, the syrupy feeling you had before morphing into something more needy and you squirmed slightly when he leaned down and kissed you.

You let him take the lead as he moulded his lips with yours, your hands pressed against the wall awkwardly as he overpowered you. Sensing your awkwardness, he slid his hand from your bicep, down your forearm and grasped your hand lightly to bring it up and place it on his shoulder, never removing his lips from yours. Using his prompt, your wound the hand he had manoeuvred towards the warmth of his neck and placed your other hand lightly on his chest, while he snaked his arms around you and kept you close; his hands working with pure experience and expertise.

The sound of students chatting down the hallway, right outside the door caused you to pull away and turn your head towards the noise. Yuta loosened his grip from your body but took your chin between his thumb and index finger to force you to face him again, and pressed a languid kiss to your swollen lips.

"We won't mind them." He spoke for the both of you, his dominance once again coming to the forefront.

"Are you always this bossy?" You complained jokingly, allowing him to kiss you once more. He pulled away and left some ticklish kisses on your jaw and neck, nothing that would leave a mark, only stopping to laugh at your comment and peer at your flushed face.

"Are you always this compliant?" He sassed back, the tone light hearted but the implication hung heavy between you.

You raised your eyebrow at his question and summoned some fire from your flustered form to quip back at him. "Wouldn't you like to know?" You wiggled with more defiance, signalling that the two of you should leave now and he followed your suit, detangling his arms from you and slinging his bag over his shoulder.

He didn't reply to your statement, only opened the door and held it for you over your head. You fell into step together as he walked you out of the lecture hall, a hand deftly reaching down to clasp yours and continue to walk like that. His domineering presence kept you wary and excited, as you followed him back to his dorm you could only wonder where the events of the day would take you.

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