#chenle oneshots

[thatsatricky1]

𝐄𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 | z.cl

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Chenle the sin of Greed x (f) Reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: obsession, stalking, mentions of mental health

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: Thriller, a bit of angst, no fluff, open ending

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3,1k

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝: The Yellow Envelope

The Yellow card practically wanted to be opened, needed to be opened. It was meant for you and no one else. If only one could be opened it would be this one. A little too much golden wax around the seal proved that more was better. Two daisies nearly falling out of the envelope basically showed there were many more inside, all for you. The choice was already made the moment you laid eyes on the thick envelope.

Her hand drifted over to the right fingers dipping underneath the yellow envelope easily and without much thought. The weight was light, but most likely heavier than the others with the fact it was thicker than most that laid out against her desk. She didn’t even turn the envelope around knowing fully well; the back was more than likely empty.

She didn’t have the nails to dig open the envelope, but it wasn’t needed considering the fact the golden waxed seal was overflown around the edges, enough to be used as a tab in itself. The yellow paper slightly tore with it considering the amount of wax that had dripped over it beforehand when freshly pressed.

With a sharp tug the waxed seal was opened, flicking the top of the envelope open, the two daisies from before that had been peaking out fell onto her lap where she sat. The beige paper inside was slightly bigger then the envelope had allowed, the corners slightly bent, though Y/n paid no attention to that detail in favour of pulling out the letter.

Daisies of all sorts of sizes spilling from the letter around her, on her lap, the desk and floor. Flicking the letter open she was met with messy handwriting, one that was familiar but she couldn’t quite pinpoint. Taking her eyes off the words to look at the daisies around her she nearly missed the fact that six letters on the desk were gone, only daisies laid stark contrasted to her mahogany table instead.

She thought to look around but was too tempted in reading the letter first, after all it was the one she picked, she might as well read it and amuse herself before going back to the fact the other letters had quite literally disappeared.

My precious Y/n,

I knew you’d pick my letter, of course you would. I didn’t think for a single second you wouldn’t because you’re just like me. Why not pick the most enticing one? That’s how you are in my eyes, so enticing, basically calling out for me to pick you just like those daisies I picked for this letter. Don’t fret, very soon I’ll have you, you were meant to be in my arms to begin with. You opening my letter just proves that. See you soon Y/n.

yours truly,

“Of course you didn’t sign off with your name.” She hummed out moving to close the letter, stuffing it back into its assigned envelope, before setting it back down on the table.

A few seconds passed by as she stared down at it before deciding to clean up the daisies littered around herself. Placing the ones on her lap on top of the letter and shoving the ones already on the desk closer to the envelope as well.

Getting off the chair she kneeled down below her desk expecting more daisies and even the other six letters she’d assumed had been knocked over in the process of her reading the beige letter.

Though as she went underneath the table her gaze landed on daises, a lot of them. Which was not surprising considering the thickness of the envelope previously but no letters. Raising an eyebrow at that, she peaked her head back upwards to look at her desk just in case they’d reappear, but with no luck she went back below her desk.

“Right, because that’s totally normal.” She muttered to herself moving to clean up the daisies.

Dumping them on top of the table she let out a long sigh, as much as it had been tempting to choose that letter, now in practicality it wasn’t looking as enticing. What was she going to do with all the daisies littering her desk? They’d wilt in a week. Maybe she could make a daisy crown like she’d done as a kid. Then again that was valuable time she could be using for something else like studying or the better choice, sleep.

Glancing at her clock she noted the time, it was only 11pm but she was already over with this day, the constant presence of Halloween today even in her lectures had gotten under her skin, no one had focused, not even her professor. It looked like she was going to have an early night.

She’d look for the missing letters in the morning and also solve the badly done prank as well tomorrow. She had a few people in mind that could have poorly planned this out.

But for now she’d catch up on some much needed rest, her body craving the sweet relief of sleep. She’d recently taken it upon herself to request for more work shifts to her manager, she was well off for now with her bank account sitting at a comfortable number but her body craved more money. More money meant more security for later in life, she’d been taught that and it sat in her mind.

To those who said money didn’t make people happy she could laugh in their faces, because sure money didn’t make people inherently happy with its limited amount of time and affect, but it did keep them fed, clean and with a place to sleep.

After getting changed out of her clothes and into something much more comfortable she slipped under her blankets. It was already late which meant no more trick or treaters arriving at her doorstep demanding candy. Even if they did, she wouldn’t open the door, it wouldn’t be very entertaining to swing the door open and show her empty bowl that had already been raided.

Instead she closed her eyes, sinking further underneath her comforter in an attempt to relax her body, willing it to shut down for the night, ignoring the slight bite of coldness that would soon disappear when her body heat mingled and mixed into her blanket providing her even more warmth that she’d welcome gladly.

It took a decent half hour for her mind to fully lull into a quiet place, no longer filled with the thoughts about how she would start her morning, the lectures scheduled and the unfortunate long late shift she’d be taking. Now, nestled underneath her warm blanket she drifted off to sleep, the one thing that seemed to comfort her most during these past few months.

Before Y/n could enter her first REM cycle of the night, still drifting off to sleep she felt a dip in her bed. Too tired to move her hand out to brush through the soft fur of the dog she’d been tasked to look after for a friend and instead focus on falling asleep.

The white curly haired dog had taken it upon herself of coming unannounced during the night to sleep by her side instead of on her dog bed since day one of looking after the fur ball. At first she hadn’t wanted to accept looking after the dog, but after a long winded conversation she’d agreed to it, not even questioning why the dog needed a personal babysitter for a while.

Though feeling something cold brush against her arm she shifted around slightly away from it.

“Daegal, you may be used to cuddling up with him, but please let me sleep.” She muttered out into the darkness of her room, pitch black from the fact she’d drawn her curtains closed. The street lamps outside are too bright for her taste at night. She assumed the dog had brushed her cold wet nose against her arm from moving around to find a comfortable position, also wanting to sleep like herself.

“Good to know she’s being looked after well enough.”

Those nine words were enough for any ounce of sleep to be ridden from her body in seconds, body automatically tensing as it rose on its own in defence. Only to get one inch above before being forced right back into her mattress.

That cold brush against her arm had not been a dog's nose, but rather the trail of cold fingers, skin most likely having just been outside in the autumn wind. Her body had not been able to sit up because of the fact arms were tightly wrapping around the upper part of her body, her torso with her arms squished against herself.

She wanted to question the intruder out loud, but the words died down inside her throat as he shushed her, cold nose trailing along the side of her jaw. Too close to the side of her face to be able to see his face, but she knew who it was by his voice alone.

Thoughts racing through her mind, one by one toppling over each other. Even if she was to speak out loud, what sentence could possibly be appropriate for the situation she somehow found herself in. Even with the warning she’d received and jumbled thought she wasn’t going to stay quiet. Especially since this was her home.

“This better be some sick and twisted prank you're pulling right now, was it you? The one who sent all those letters?” She’d finally found her voice asking out the question, using a whispered tone not daring to speak any louder.

“Prank? Nothing of the sort. And technically I only sent you one letter. There’s no need to even speak about the other six, they mean nothing now, nothing previously either. You picked my letter, it was the only one you would have ever picked.”

Chenle’s voice rang out through the room, loud against her ear even if his lips were brushing against her neck. He spoke in a normal volume not needing to whisper unlike her. His voice as per usual spoke with confidence and obviousness as if the topic was trivial, as if they were merely discussing the weather.

“How did you do it?” Was all she could question out.

“Do what?” Chenle whispered back his nose nudging against her jaw, by the tone he was using she could tell he was egging her on.

“The letters. How did you place them on my table without me noticing? And how did they just… disappear?” She knew he was toying with her, that was clear enough but she asked anyway. Curiosity was a dangerous thing.

She felt a puff of wind against her neck, no doubt from Chenle as he let out a hum, moving to push his face against the crook of her neck properly. Enjoying the closeness he’d craved so long for, to finally snatch for himself.

“Do you remember that project we had to do? The one recently in our English literature class.” His words came out muffled but he was so close it wasn’t hard to understand what he was saying.

Y/n remembered seeing as it wasn’t long ago. They’d been tasked with choosing any sort of negative theme and run with it. It was such a broad and open task she didn’t know where to start having been used to getting heavily instructed assignments with strong ruling.

At that time she’d felt even more doomed when she was paired up with Chenle for it, since he’d been the least known person in her friend circle, if anything he just appeared in her group of friends one day and hadn’t left. She’d assumed he would have just been one of those friends in passing, but like glue, he stuck.

Chenle had offered to do their project on the Seven deadly sins, an amused smile on his face as if he knew an inside joke to do with it. At that time Y/n had brushed off the suggestion not finding too much interest in it considering the first time she tried looking it up she was directed to mainly religious webpages telling the reader to repent and what not.

Though after being convinced with a free meal at the campus cafe and apparently a lot of knowledge on the topic from Chenle she thought it wouldn’t hurt to do it. Y/n was expecting at most a B grading wise but after the two had finished the project, their professor had personally pulled them aside to tell them about the A they received and a long winded ramble about how their professor felt as if he was reading it from one of the princes of hell himself.

There were a lot of things she had missed in that slot of time, maybe because of how swamped she was with other lectures and work but laying there being held tightly in Chenle’s arms she recounted just how off the situation had been.

From the fact Chenle spoke of the sins, one in particular above the rest. The way for once he’d done most of the project, the way his lips tilted upwards smugly as their professor praised them. How he’d even asked the professor to be given extra credit for ‘being so accurate’, greedy for more praise and feeling as though he was entitled to extra credit.

“Our project on the seven deadly sins?” She asked out, if anything just for him to finally get his point across, to finally tell her what that had to do with the position they were currently in.

“The seven deadly sins… seven princes of hell.” He hummed out gripping her tighter before loosening his grip to move, almost on top of her now, but she didn’t dare move, not an inch with how he stared down at her.

“Out of all seven I wrote more in detail for one in specific.” He clarified, watching her as if waiting for her to finish it off.

“Greed, Beelzebub, the demon embodiment of greed.” She recalled, eyebrows scrunching slightly as she had to think about it to remember properly since she hadn’t partaken in the project much because Chenle had taken the reins on it.

“Oh please that old fashioned name.” Chenle’s eyes rolled hearing his old title. Instead his eyes focused back on the sight below him, he was nearly reeling at the fact he had you laying there.

“There are details in that project you won’t find anywhere, not on some religious webpage or some dodgy satanist homemade webpage. No, only greed himself could know those things.” He pointed out moving a hand to graze past her cheekbone.

“Don’t you remember what our professor said, he felt as though he was reading greed’s own words, quite hilarious to watch considering he was.” Chenle finally revealed after such a painstakingly slow explanation.

“Have you completely lost your mind?” Was all she could offer in return for words, staring up at him.

Chenle’s familiar mischievous grin returned, but now she could tell it wasn’t just a playful look. No it was much darker than she’d ever guessed it could be. What she’d assumed was his signature childish look was really a devilish grin that could send people begging at their knees, most likely already had.

“Normally I’d have a snarky reply for that, but when it comes from you I can truly say I might have. I’ve been losing my mind at the fact you were so close, always just inches away yet not mine. It drove me nearly insane, I couldn’t wait any longer.”

He muttered truthfully, finger now trailing down to her jaw, brushing past down her neck feeling just how erratic her pulse was under his finger. So addictive and intoxicating without even having to try.

“You want me to believe that you, Zhong Chenle, the guy who obsesses over Stephen Curry, has the highest pitched laugh and uses way too much oil when cooking is also the one of the seven deadly sins, a literal demon.” Her words meant to bruise his ego, because it was an insane thing he was trying to imply.

And just like her words he let out that familiar high pitched laugh, but it trailed off into a scoff. His sharp eyes staring into her soul through her eyes, leaning in close. Too close.

“You saying sins can’t have hobbies Y/n? I think I played the role of the new university campus student pretty well if I do say so myself.”

“I’m saying if you don’t get out of my home right now, I’ll call the police. You look and sound like you're in a mania, no you are psychotic already, you-” Her words cut off short by Chenle’s finger that had been pressing gently against her neck turning into his hand firmly gripping it instead.

“Sweetheart I may not be Pride, but I don’t particularly like others bruising my ego, something you're testing currently.” His eyes held a warning in them, but the fingers wrapping tighter against her neck was the true warning.

Her eyes flickering downwards at his tight grip before looking up at him, only speaking again when his grip loosened, allowing a more steady flow of breathing.

“What is the purpose of all this Chenle, even if what you’re saying is true. What has that all got to do with me?” She finally asked the question he was waiting for, sure he thought it was obvious enough but he craved to say it with his own lips. Then again he had a knack for playing around.

“You really have to ask? Was my letter not clear enough for you? We both know, you know how to read. Those study books are always in front of that pretty face of yours, hiding it away.” He teased out, lips too close to her own, just a little closer and he could graze his own against hers.

“You are just so… enticing. The moment I saw you I knew you were meant just for me. Even if you weren’t, which you are, rest assured, I would still take you in a heartbeat. I despised the fact I played the long game with you, which apparently didn’t work so I did the next best thing, I decided to just take what was mine.” He was all grins as he explained why he’d done all this tonight.

“And what? What happens when that interest dies out? Y/n questioned out, showing just how absurd it was.

“Baby once I have you, I’m not letting you go. Never.” Chenle spoke slowly, clearly trying to get it across.

Moving his hand away from her neck to hold the back of her head, his hand between her head and the pillow. Not giving her any warning as he moved to crash his lips against hers in a rushed pace greedy for more. A pleased sound coming from deep beneath his chest at finally taking what he’d desired so strongly.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @rotinyzen @wonyoungmywife @snflwrhaerecs4u @thegreenlynx @serinebsblog @delululi @molensworld @morkiee @marvelahsobx @kaciebello @kgneptun @bluedbliss @haechansbbg @officiallyjaehyuns @bunnychui @audreybub @sleepyvic @winwintea

(This Taglist is used for all my nct context so if you’d like to be tagged in my nct content please comment or write to me to be added)

𝐀𝐮𝐭����𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: If Chenle is involved, I somehow have to incorporate daegal in there, sorry themsss the rules 🙂‍↕️ sidenote: due to rushed time this is not proofread and will be edited soon.

𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭:

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𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭:

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[haeigoo]

Found You (ZCL)

ღ pairing: idol!chenle x fem!reader (ft. jaehyun & jisung)

ღ description: based off a funny chenji incident

ღ word count: 1,562

ღ genre: established relationship, SLIGHT angst & fluff

ღ warnings: kissing, suggestive, swearing

ღ playlist: perfume by nct dojaejung, plot twist by niki, ours by taylor swift & when i met you by apo hiking society

ღ author's note: this is my first official fic that i wrote in years. and its all thanks to my love @lowkeyjaemle for being a huge help in the making of this au, go read her works HERE!

DON'T LIKE? DON'T READ!

You have been dating Chenle for seven months now and it is no surprise to you that your anniversary happens to fall on the same day as their third group comeback, ‘ISTJ.’ Both their managers and fans have not been so forgiving of you ever since your relationship came into fruition. Several complaints made their way to the company of Chenle allegedly taking sick days and leaving rehearsals early to be with you. It got worse when stolen photos of the two of you circulated online like wildfire on the day that he chose to ditch schedules. After New Years’ Day, the management released a statement about enforcing restrictions of all artists under the label from engaging with individuals outside professional relationships to avoid further mishaps that may hinder the flow of the business. This gut-wrenching news isolated you both but you knew exactly what you were getting into when you decided to join him in the public eye.

When the morning of your anniversary came, you were already used to waking up to cold mornings without Chenle. He trusted you enough to look after Daegal while he is at work but not even her presence could cheer you up. You only got to communicate with him through calls and last night, he had reassured you that his group was finishing up. Chenle was staring close through the screen, grinning while he reiterates how much he misses you. You let out a huge sigh before puckering your lips together to say goodbye as you ended the call.

You got up from the master bed and shimmied yourself up to look nice today. As you were showering, something at the back of your mind was eating out at you – How will this be any different from the last? What if I’m just another lost cause?

When you reached over to your closet, you saw the lustrous baby blue Sunday dress that you have been saving up to wear for weeks as it paired neatly with your black combat boots and faux leather handbag that Chenle got you last Christmas. You rushed downstairs to leave the house when suddenly your phone vibrated. It was a text from Chenle, he will unfortunately be working late tonight to make adjustments for the shoot. For a moment, you stood there frozen and stiff as your face dropped and your left hand made a fist. This always happens, you told yourself.

You caught yourself falling into the depths of despair since today was clearly a special occasion. You immediately locked the door behind you and walked outside with a stain in your heart. The cool breeze brushed through the locks of your hair, in the hopes of soothing your troubled soul when you spotted a perfume shop just around the corner. You were greeted by a variety of scents as you gracefully walked through the door of this well-lit establishment. After countless browsing, a Myrrh & Tonka cologne from Jo Malone caught your eye and took a few puffs from the sample available.

You were not notorious for using fragrances and Chenle knew that best. But the thought of wrapping yourself in a fresh bouquet of aromas unfamiliar to Chenle would surely have him by surprise. You picked up a piece and headed towards the cashier whose smile was glistening through the room.

          “You find everything to your liking?” Jaehyun asked softly.

          “Yup!” You nodded.

          “You know, a whiff of this sensational notes of almond and vanilla will have anyone under your spell. May I ask, who’s the lucky man?”

          “Zhong Chenle. You couldn’t miss even if you tried, Jaehyun.”

          “Right. Well, tell him I said hi!” He chuckled as you bid you farewell.

You left the store feeling accomplished when you gazed upon the vast, hazy sky around you and knew by then, it was already sundown. You had called a taxi and dashed through the car door to hopefully catch Chenle still at the building. The driver had dropped you off just outside when you felt a shiver down your spine.

You took a deep breath as you stepped through the main entrance when your phone started buzzing, an incoming call from Chenle. You shook off your nerves and ignored the needy hollers of your boyfriend. You exited from the elevator and sprinted towards the practice room to find the lawless space empty with plastic bottles and chips scattered messily around the floor. After some time passed, you caught a glimpse of his tumbler across from you and that was the information you needed.

You went to check on the bathroom only to see from your peripheral, a drowsy Chenle with his head buried in his knees. You crouched down as you elevated his face to meet yours when you realized how droopy his eyes were from today’s schedule.

          “I’m here, baby.” You exclaimed as you rubbed sweat off his forehead.

          “(Y/N)? I’ve been worried sick. You didn’t answer me all day! What’s going with you?” Chenle blurted out.

          “Chenle, this whole fiasco got to me! Being away from you was torture itself. So, I came by to surprise you.”

          “Baby, having you in my life was the biggest plot twist I could ever ask for. I would replay the very first moment my heart belonged to you.”

          “Have you been drinking? I’ve never heard those words before especially coming from you. Well, you better get up before anyone sees you like this!”

When you tapped his shoulders signaling him to stand up, he swiftly grabbed your wrist in lightning speed and dragged you to one of the stalls. Chenle abruptly shuts the door behind him which made a loud thud as he is brimming with excitement. He sits on the toilet seat and spreads his legs like a king on the throne while checking you from top to bottom. Clicking his tongue and smacking his thigh, encouraging you to delicately plop yourself onto him. Chenle had that smug expression wearing nothing but his black sweatpants, GSW T-shirt and white rubber shoes.

          “Chenle, you’ll get your ass beat if your manager storms in on us!” You said incredulously.

          “Baby girl, they’re never gonna find out because I know how to shut that beautiful mouth of yours.” Chenle remarked confidently with a smirk.

          “This is serious, dude. I’m not taking my clothes off, you maniac!”

          “Ugh, you’re no fun. Just sit on my lap. I need you close, baby.”

You diligently abide by his request and the next thing you know, Chenle’s hands are in between your thighs which makes you quiver. You promptly frowned at him, refusing to let him near you when all of a sudden, he took one hand away to cup your cheeks and pulled you in a deep, passionate yet sloppy kiss. The hand then travelled down your neck where he tightens his grip, making you scoff out a little cough. The moment you parted with his lips to catch your breath you throw your head back as you were holding onto his shoulders for support when he took notice of your scent.

          “Baby, you smell so fucking good. What’d you put on?”

          “Jo Malone perfume I bought from Jaehyun. I’ll explain later. You’ve a lot of catching up to do, mister.”

          “Whatever you say, princess.” Chenle uttered under his breath as he flashed his signature crescent moon smile.

The further your bodies were intertwined, the more he got captivated by your scent. You completely lost yourself under your boyfriend’s touch when you hear footsteps outside the stall. Stomping loudly towards your direction, your eyes widen and hid your face onto his chest. When you hear the twist of the knob turn, you had already hoped it was his manager to usher you out of this hellhole. Instead, you glanced up to see a tall man hovering the both of you with a confused look plastered on his face. It was Park Jisung, all dressed in black ever so handsomely.

          “Sorry, I didn’t know this was occupied. Hi (Y/N)! It’s been so long.” Jisung said as he scratches the back of his scalp.

          “Hey, it was a surprise for this guy!” You stated as you tilt your head.

          “Excuse me! Jisung, do you mind?” Chenle vocalized, motioning his hands together in a brisk fashion because he was already vexed at his best friend for walking in on you two.

          “Yeah, I’m leaving. Bye (Y/N), it was really nice seeing you again!” Jisung responded with a playful wink as he closed the door.

You could sense Chenle fuming behind you, arguably pissed off from Jisung’s remark as you played along. Chenle’s cheeks had never gotten this red before, you could spot his furrowed brows and face flushed when you turned around to see him pouting his lips. This was one of the few times you ever saw your boyfriend sulky and admittedly enough, you found it cute.

          “Aww, why the long face?” You said teasingly, pinching his plum cheeks.

          “Because you seem to like Jisung more than me.” Chenle muttered defeatedly, shifting his gaze and not meeting yours.

          “When we locked eyes for the first time, my heart knew what I needed and it was you. In a million timelines, I’d choose you. Chenle, you’re my north star.” You lovingly affirmed his tense face as you leaned closer and planted one last kiss.

[neoiightss]

Making out with 7Dream

Here’s a small reaction for dream, my requests are open so feel free to send me some =)

pairing: y/n x mark, renjun, jeno, haechan, jaemin, chenle, jisung

warnings: suggestive, fluff, established relationships.

Mark Lee:

Mark’s the type of guy to try to be the very best at everything, when it comes to intimacy it's the same. He holds you close to him, trying to be aware of his strength to not hurt you, he wants to feel every bit of you, but also make sure he caresses where you like the most, he wants to be soft and romantic, but a bit rough and sensual. He tries very hard to please you, so once he hears your soft moans and hums when he pushes you close, or when he deepens the kiss with tongue it only fues his ego, making him do more of that, after all he wants to be the very best for his girl.

Huang Renjun:

Soft. So soft and delicate, it's extremely intimate and romantic, not something that happens so often, but when it does it's usually because of the mood, maybe you two are feeling more romantic, had some drinks or are just a bit horny. He's so delicate, holding you softly, caressing every part of you, moving his tongue against yours ever so slowly that leaves you wanting more, pouting once he pulls away, only for him to laugh and turn his attention to your neck.

Lee Jeno:

He likes to be in charge, wants to be manly and take care of your every need, will have you in his lap in seconds, actually likes man-handling you a bit too much. Will whisper against your lips how precious you are to him, his tongue hot and heavy against your mouth, exploring every bit like it's the first time, it won't take him long before he's kissing your neck.

Lee Haechan:

Playful yet so sensual, will change the rhythm just to leave you wanting more, will start slow and slowly get faster and needier, just to pull away with a feel pecks on the lips, leaving you a whiny mess. Will chuckle a bit before whispering how beautiful his princess is, kissing you once more with full on sensuality. Expect his hands all over you, specially on your ass and thighs.

Na Jaemin:

Sweet yet dominant, will whisper sweet nothings against your lips, telling you how pretty you are just for him, how much he loves you and wants you just for him. Kisses you slowly, holding you so close, feeling every inch of you. Likes to push your hair asside so he can make his way down to your neck quickly, pulling back up to your lips with the sweetest smile.

Zhong Chenle:

Playful as well, will take his time to you, kissing you ever so slowly, but making sure to pull away when it gets a bit heated just to hear you complain, laughing as he asks you if you like it that much. Will rather do it on bed or couch, somewhere he can get comfortable with you, get close so he can show you just how much he loves you.

Park Jisung:

He may start shy but will quickly get confident as he hears your pleased noises, will roam his hands around your body, not sure where he wants it to land, just wanting to feel every bit of you. Slow and sweet, exploring every part of your mouth, will let little “wows” and “damn” slip from time to time, making you chuckle.

[loserlvrss]

꒰ 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐈 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑? 𝐖/ 𝐍𝐂𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 ꒱ 엔씨티 드림

summary : asking nct dream if you can stay over or vise versa

genre : fluff, nct dream x afab!reader, text au, smau tws : language, pet names author notes : idk being sick and on my period has been making me hazy so idk either lmaoo word count : n/a

[chenlesfavorite]

Arriving at the race and seeing your ex after being over with him for so long, your heart plummets, like a weight dragging it deeper with every beat, the heartache growing stronger.

Despite your friends calling after you, you run, you can’t bear to look at Jaehyun, not after he did all of that to you and treated you like shit 99% of the time.

But, why was he here? And why exactly tonight? You know that he’s a fan of Chenle, but... why did he have to show up tonight? Where you’re dressed up all pretty for Chenle?

You keep running, your footsteps pounding against the pavement in rhythm with your racing heart— to the burn inside your chest. Why now? Why him?

Memories of Jaehyun flood your mind, his empty promises, him only talking to you if he needed money or if he messed something up. Him being here is the absolute worst, tonight was supposed to be you having fun and cheering Chenle on, but how could you do that now when Jaehyun is here?

Your running comes to a halt when you bump into someone, their hands immediately latching onto your shoulders to stop you from falling onto the floor. You inhale sharply as you look up at the mysterious person who caught you and it’s...

“Yuta?” Your voice comes out like a breath, your eyes widening as you examine his face carefully and you’re right, it is Yuta. The same Yuta who stood you up and made you cry over him. But, you remember him saying he doesn’t plan on coming to the races anymore so... why is he here?

“That’s right, pretty. I’m surprised you still remember me.” Yuta laughs, a not-so-friendly smile creeping up on his face as he lets go of your shoulders. You see his eyes looking at you up and down— you gulp, unsure of what to do as your eyes dart to the ground.

“Who are you dressed up for? You look...” He pauses, biting his bottom lip. “Breathtaking.” Yuta smirks. You don’t know if you should thank him or push him and start running again, although the second choice is sounding mighty better right now.

“Oh, she’s here?” You turn around once you hear a voice behind you, and well, it seems like everything is against you today. Jaehyun. Myung fucking Jaehyun has found you. You’re basically stuck between the two of them. You can’t run anywhere.

“Y/N, baby, how much I’ve missed you.” Jaehyun says but in an almost taunting way, taking your hands into his. Your fingers trembling, a tight knot forming in your stomach. “Haven’t you missed me at all?” He adds on, his face inching closer to yours— but you back your head away, not wanting him to be close to you.

“I... no, I...” You fail to form a sentence as your breathing becomes more shallow as if you don’t have enough air in your lungs. This feels like hell on earth, you don’t know what to do. You don’t want him near you, and you certainly don’t want Yuta near you either! These are the two men who’ve practically ruined your view on love.

But you can’t escape because there’s no doubt one of them will grab you and keep you at bay here. You swallow hard, your eyes looking away from Jaehyun— you slowly take your hands back, and to your surprise, Jaehyun lets your hands escape his.

“Come on, Y/N, he won’t kill you. Tell him you’ve missed him too.” Yuta whispers in your ear from behind you, making fun of you in a way. The two of them laugh, making you feel smaller and smaller. Your mind was yelling at you, telling you to push them away and run away but you couldn’t. Your feet were glued to the ground. You can’t bring yourself to do anything.

“Leave her the fuck alone.”

You recognize that voice, you know it very well. It’s Chenle.

As if it’s a reflex, you shove Jaehyun to the side and run to Chenle, immediately embracing him. He accepts your embrace and wraps his arms loosely around you. “It’s okay, I’m here now.” Chenle murmurs, gently rubbing your back.

“What the fuck, Y/N? Get away from him!” Jaehyun shouts as he stares at the two of you, his hands clench into fists. “Yeah, let her be with her boyfriend, besides, don’t you have to get ready for the race, Zhong?” Yuta says, crossing his arms as he giggles.

“She’s not going anywhere near the two of you— and let me correct you, she’s not Jaehyun’s girlfriend anymore. She’s my fucking girlfriend.” Chenle spits, his eyebrows furrowing.

You don’t know if your ears are playing tricks on you but... did Chenle just... call you his girlfriend? You feel his grip on you tighten, and your stomach starts to ache, but in a good way, there’s no doubt that the pain in your stomach is butterflies.

“Your— what?” Jaehyun glares at Chenle, letting out a scoff. “Was I not clear enough, Jaehyun? Should I repeat myself?” Chenle’s voice is low as he speaks.

“Why the hell are the two of you even here?” Chenle asks as he slowly releases you from his embrace. You stand near him, holding his hand and letting your fingers intertwine with his— you look at Jaehyun and Yuta.

“I—”

“Finally, this is where I come into play.” Yuta cuts off Jaehyun, giving him a smile that’s definitely a message for ‘keep your mouth shut.’ “Chenle, I challenge you to race against me. Nobody else on the racetrack but me and you.” Yuta drops what he’s wanted to say.

“You sure you wanna go against me, Nakamoto?”

“Positive, Zhong. The one who reaches the finish line first is the better racer and the loser has to quit racing. Sound good?” Yuta suggests.

This idea doesn't seem smart, and there’s tension between Yuta and Chenle. It's as if there's some unresolved issue between them, but you don’t know what it is.

“Sounds good to me, let Ten know that there’s a change in plans... oh and Y/N will be with me as we race.” Chenle says his final words to Yuta before walking away with you, leading you toward the racetrack.

Once there, he settles you onto the seat of his motorcycle. “Are you okay?” His gaze softens— though, just hearing his voice brings you comfort. “Yeah... I’m okay now. Thanks for stepping in for me. I was really scared.” You reply, giving him a weak smile.

“You don’t need to thank me. God, those assholes...” Chenle’s words trail off as he sighs deeply, clicking his tongue. “I had no idea they would be here, but goddamn, I’m getting them blacklisted from here.”

“I didn’t know either, I was so surprised... but, Lele, are you sure you can beat Yuta in this race?” You ask, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. You’re nervous for Chenle, because what if he doesn’t win? What if he has to give up racing?

“Oh please, he’s nothing compared to me. You just sit tight behind me and look pretty as we race, this is gonna be an easy victory.” Chenle reassures you, a confident look on his face.

He was going to win, no doubt. There’s no way he’s gonna lose this race, especially not to Yuta.

“Okay, everyone! Seems like we have a different plan for today. I’m pretty sure you all know the ex-king of racing, Nakamoto Yuta. Well, he’s back, and guess who he’s racing against?” Ten’s voice booms throughout the racetrack, gathering everyone’s attention.

“It’s no other than our current king, Zhong Chenle! Chenle, who stole the title of ‘king’ from Yuta. How exciting, isn’t it? We’re gonna see the two best Neo racers go against one another today, let me hear those cheers!” Ten exclaims, hyping up the crowd for this race.

The bright start to shine on the starting line, where you’re sitting on Chenle’s motorcycle. The crowd starts to yell Yuta’s name as he makes his appearance on the starting line, walking confidently toward you and Chenle, with a smirk on his face.

Yuta stops at his motorcycle, his gaze landing on you and Chenle. “Ready to finally lose, Chenle?” He taunts, sounding way too sure of himself. “We’ll see about that, Yuta.” Chenle rolls his eyes, taking his helmet and securing it on his head before doing the same to you.

“Hold on tight, angel, ‘cause this is gonna be a wild ride.” He says and you nod to his words, taking a deep breath. Chenle sits at the front of the seat, his hands gripping the handlebars. You wrap your arms around his waist, nervous, but also excited.

“Seems like our racers are ready, and in 3... 2... 1... Go!” Ten shouts and the race officially begins.

Keeping true to his style, Chenle starts fast immediately, getting himself into the lead. The world blurs around you, the rush of wind and the intense acceleration creating an exhilarating sensation, to say the least.

Every single one of Chenle’s movements is controlled with such precision, every lean into the curves of the race track executed perfectly. You can feel his confidence just from the way he’s riding the motorcycle.

But Yuta starts speeding up as well, starting to close the distance between him and Chenle. Chenle glances in his rearview mirror, seeing Yuta start to catch up with him but Chenle remains relaxed, not bothered by Yuta at all.

The two of them are neck and neck— there’s another curve approaching and Chenle is going to use this to push his limits and his bike’s limits, he’s gonna beat Yuta no matter what it takes.

“Gonna speed up now, angel. Hold onto me as tight as you can.” Chenle gives you a heads up— you tighten your grip around his waist, and thank God he gave you that heads up because the way he sped up was insane.

Reaching the curve, the motorcycle goes low, it feels as if both of you are going to fall off of it but, no. Yuta falls behind Chenle, slowing down his bike once he gets to the curve.

Chenle is now much more in the lead, practically leaving Yuta in the dust. Instead of Chenle slowing down, now that Yuta’s out of sight... he keeps that same quick speed. But you can swear he’s going even faster.

“Lele! Can you slow down?” You exclaim, feeling the wind become harsher by the moment. “No can do. I told you it was going to be a wild ride.” Chenle replies, letting out a laugh.

The finishing line starts to come into view and Yuta’s nowhere to be seen. It’s almost unbelievable how easy this race is. That’s who they claimed as the ‘king of racing’? It’s no wonder that Chenle got that title instead.

He’s much more skilled, knows how to handle a motorcycle better than Yuta, and just has better tactics than him. Just how bad were the previous racers for Yuta to be named ‘king of racing’ when he’s terrible at it?

And it’s just as expected— Chenle passes the finish line first, stopping his motorcycle and taking off his helmet, running his fingers through his hair. He gets off the bike and turns to you, taking off your helmet.

But what you didn’t expect to see at the finish line was Jaehyun, waiting there. He looks pissed, most likely because Yuta hasn’t made it yet. You can feel Jaehyun’s gaze on you and Chenle and Chenle was going to use this to his advantage, to make Jaehyun jealous and let him see what he lost.

Because Jaehyun is nothing more than a forgotten chapter in your story, so why should Chenle or you care about him or what he feels?

Chenle gently places his hands on your waist, looking right into your eyes before taking a quick sneak at your lips. You know what he wants, and you want it just as badly as him. “May I?” He whispers, and you nod, without hesitation.

Chenle closes the distance between the two of you and places his lips on yours. Letting everyone at the race know that you’re his, and he’s yours.

You respond to the kiss, making your hands find their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer. Deepening the kiss, a fire lit inside the both of you. You don’t care that there’s hundreds of people watching you, the only thing you’re focusing on right now is Chenle and he’s the only thing you’re thinking of.

Chenle slowly pulls away, resting his forehead on yours.

That kiss is what confirms everything for you.

“I’m taking you back to my place tonight, angel.”

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NIGHT RIDER : chapter 35 — king of racing

back — masterlist — next

! author’s note : well guys… what do we think? 🤭

✮⋆˙ taglist: @nanaxwi @neocrashed @404tytrack @connormurphynation @dudekiss3r @injunnie-lemon @chenlesfeetpic @neozon3nha @morkiee @doughyk @i03jae @haechology @foxy-kitsune @fullsunbabe @polarisjisung @beommii @soobiverse @onlyhyunjin @lostinneocity @yyangj3lly @junviadinho @miyawwn @marvelahsobx @starfilledgaze @nosungluv @gukuwii @bitchzitschimi @whoooootf @nneteyamss @theandypark @urslytherin @xcosmi @taroddori @winwintea @iamsimplyasimp @ckline35 @yutarot @sunghoonsgfreal @roseangelxfuma @thegracerammy @nctjunie @do-you-remember-summer-127 @cosmic-marauder @tanjanro @myouthles @nctrawberries @octubreuno @galacticpurpl3 @voikiraz @defzcl @silvsie @the-swageyama-tobiyolo

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[hwaflms]

𐙚˙⋆.˚ nct dream reaction to you touching yourself!

‧₊˚ 💭 ✩彡 , , 2.5k, smut under the cut [cw: masturbation, degradation, voyeurism, fingering, very mild dubcon in jaemin’s, nudes, allusions to phone sex, established relationship in most, i think that’s it]

♡ mark . . . the poor baby had just gotten back from practice and was nearing the bedroom door when he heard some sounds of what he thought was you in pain or distress. being the sweet boyfriend he was, he hurriedly went to open the door, but the sight that greeted him was certainly not one he was expecting. you were laid out on the bed, your pants pulled only halfway off your legs as if you were too desperate to even bother taking them off fully, a hand stuffed in your underwear as you threw your head back and let out the prettiest sounds, looking so blissful and fucked out. your eyes shot open at the disturbance that was mark's arrival, the light blush coating your cheeks nothing in comparison to the bright, tomato-red one that decorated his. "fuck, um– i'm sorry, lemme just– i'm just gonna go", he mumbles his way into the bathroom, bumping into the door while trying to enter, but you both knew he looked for too long. now what was he supposed to do? it's not like that godly an image of you is going to leave his head anytime soon, no, of course not, he wouldn't be able to stop thinking about it for days, weeks, months even. sprawled out on the bed like that, lips parted and letting out such dirty, magical sounds– fuck, he couldn't help letting his hand travel into his pants in a similar fashion to you. before he knew it, he was jerking himself off to the thought of you (something he had definitely done before, but he had some wonderful new material now), pumping his cock up and down while his breathing became laboured, but in all his haste and pleasure, he had "forgotten" to lock the door. "um, need a little help there?"

♡ renjun . . . you thought renjun texting you “pleaseee baby, come over tn” meant that the two of you would spend time together until you eventually fell asleep, which did happen for a while until your boyfriend excused him to go play “one game with the boys”. though you rolled your eyes at him, you were fine with him playing a game or two, figuring you could just be on your phone for a bit. you weren’t, however, expecting to be sat on your phone for over an hour, with renjun now having his headphones on (you don’t know what the point was, though, you could still hear all the slurs being shouted mutedly from them). “renjun”, you grouched, but he doesn’t even turn to face you. “if you wanna leave me for a man, just say that.” he does laugh at this, but he pleads “one last one”, making you sigh and slump back down on the bed. you had chosen the pretty, new lace underwear you had bought the other day to wear tonight, but now you’re too salty to let him take it off you. deciding to take matters into your own hands, you shimmy out of your shorts, rubbing circles over your underwear with your eyes trained on his back. if he was too busy to touch you, what’s stopping you from doing it yourself? you try and fail to stifle your moans with your arm as you slip your hand into your underwear, rubbing your clit for a moment before dipping your fingers into your entrance. “renjun…”, you call out again, but both of you know it sounds different this time, and he glances over his shoulder at you. it’s almost comical the way he does a double take, pushing his headphones off of one ear, to get a clear look at you. slowly but surely, the tips of his ears and cheeks are dusted with red, but his eyes still shyly observe the hand concealed by your underwear. “oh…”, he sounds out while you throw your head back and whine, his headphones now fully off and you could hear whoever he was on call with distantly calling out “renjun? renjun, what the fuck we’re losing?” he shuts off his computer screen without even looking at it, getting up and slowly walking over to you, sinking down on the edge of the bed. “you just gonna sit there or you gonna help me?”, you grumble, but his eyes don’t miss the way your hips buck up. “wanna watch.”

♡ jeno . . . you swear you had meant to wait for him to return, you had tried your best to busy yourself while jeno was at schedules. he had told you the exact time that he would return, no earlier, no later, than 7:30 p.m. and there he was, promptly unlocking your front door at 7:29 p.m., expecting you to be reading a book in your room, or baking brownies-for-one in your underwear in the kitchen. he definitely wasn’t expecting the sight that greeted him. he had given you one rule for when he was away at work, to “not touch what’s mine”, one simple rule. you seemed eager enough to please him before he left, so he certainly wasn’t expecting to hear moans coming from the kitchen. he watches you for all of five seconds, back facing him with one hand disappearing into the waistband of your shorts, head thrown back a little as you leaned against the counter. “what are you doing?”, the sharp, gruff way in which he says it make you stop immediately, yanking your hand out of your shorts and holding it behind you. it was one thing if you were pleasuring yourself in the bedroom, but right out here? in the kitchen? jeno promptly walks over to you, reaching over and clasping the hand behind your back tightly, jerking it over to him. your fingers all but glisten when held under the ceiling light, and your cheeks redden at the short “pathetic” he spits while looking at you. not breaking the heavy eye contact, he closes his lips over your two fingers, swirling his tongue around them before releasing them with a ‘pop!’. the next thing you know, your face is being pressed against the cold granite surface of the counter hard, while jeno’s other hand holds both your wrists together behind your back. “you know how to count, right?”, he asks demeaningly, and while he lets go of your head, your cheek is still pressed against the counter so hard you can see the condensation form as you breath, nodding your head before he yanks your shorts down with such force that you can still feel the burn on your hips five seconds later. he places the palm of his hand flat against your ass, pulling your underwear up to reveal more flesh. “i’m gonna show you what happens to whores when they don’t follow a simple rule.”

♡ haechan . . . “well, well, well," you could practically hear the smirk in his voice, tone dripping, pouring with desire, just sounding so sultry. your eyes shot open at the sound of him, squealing shortly and rushing to cover yourself up with the blanket. "what do we have here?", he cooed from the door, one foot in front of the other and a hand placed against the doorframe, leaning against it. "f-fuck off, hyuck", you replied breathlessly, cheeks dusted with pink due to your embarrassment and also the rush you were feeling from touching yourself. he wasn't supposed to be back so early, you thought you were going to be alone for a little while longer; clearly you were wrong. "fuck off? did you mean 'fuck me'?", he drawled, letting out a half scoff and half chuckle, slowly sauntering towards you. “why don’t you show me what you were doing there?”, his suggestion sounds more like an order, and its like you lose the ability to think when he reaches over you to lead the hand straying away from your pussy right back, inclining his head to the side expectantly. under his urging, watchful eyes, you continue your previous actions, eyes widening when hyuck lets out an almost pornographic moan at the sight. sinking your fingers deeper into yourself, you whimper out of pure frustration from the fact that these were your fingers instead of his, and you swear you are almost in tears when he says, “stop”. he’s quick to replace your fingers with his own, coating his digits in your wetness before pumping two into you without any warning. “think you can give me three? maybe four orgasms?”, he cooes, tutting when you shake your head ‘no’. “i think we’re gonna find out.”

♡ jaemin . . . “aren’t you sweet?”, to say hearing your roommate jeno’s friend’s sultry voice startled you would be an understatement, fully believing you were home alone when you started pleasuring yourself. “jaemin– what the fuck–”, a blushing, bumbling mess, you’re quick to yank your blanket over your partially naked body, not knowing how long he’d been standing there watching you or how he had gotten into your house in the first place, choosing to ask about the latter first. “how the fuck did you get in? and did no one ever teach you how to knock?”. tilting his head to the side, jaemin raises his eyebrows but makes no efforts to hide the way his eyes scanned over your blanket-covered body, tracing your hips, collarbones, legs with his gaze. “jeno gave me the keys. and that’s not fair, the door wasn’t shut. besides, you called me”, he replies coolly, taking a step into the room but leaving the door wide open, as if you invited him in. “i heard you call my name in that pretty little voice of yours, but i thought you were hurt. didn’t think you were fucking yourself with your fingers to the thought of me.” you move to further cover yourself up as he walks closer to you, embarrassed out of your mind that he both heard you moan his name and watched you touch yourself. but what he does next really has you shocked– eyes never leaving yours, his hand snakes over to his pant-covered cock, gripping it with a satisfied hiss, a smirk curving on his lips when he sees your look of surprise and…desire??? “you see how hard i am for you, pretty?”, he all but moans out and you do see, the outline of his cock straining against the material of his sweatpants and making your mouth almost water at the thought of it. without another word, he’s in front of you, pulling his raging boner free from his pants. “what do you say we give jeno a little show when he comes back?”

♡ chenle . . . “damn, you started without me?” after enjoying the dinner you had cooked for the two of you, you suggested taking a shower together before slipping into bed to watch a show. following the routine that you had wherein one of you would cook and the other would clean, chenle grabbed your plate and his, placing them in the sink and telling you that he’ll be there in about ten minutes after he finished washing the dishes. figuring you could just get undressed and enjoy the extra space in the shower before your boyfriend joined you, you opted to start without him, but leaving the door unlocked for him. the second the hot water hits your body, you are relaxed, letting it soak your hair and cover your body. you trail your hands along your body to further spread the water, but soon you can’t ignore the dull thud coming from your core when you reach your inner thighs. grazing your fingers against yourself and testing the waters, you slowly begin your ministrations, spreading your folds with more intent now. another two minutes in and you’re blatantly touching yourself, head resting against the glass of the shower, steam engulfing its expanse while you sigh out of bliss. chenle, having left the dishes to dry, decided to join you, ridding himself of his clothes and finding the bathroom door to be partially open. when he’s greeted by the sight of you, your back is facing him, but it doesn’t take a genius to understand what you were doing. when you finally hear his voice, you look over your shoulder in surprise and slight embarrassment, but that is soon replaced with pure lust when your eyes mirror the look in his. “thought i’d get a head start”, you offer, slowly picking up the pace with your hand. “is that so?”, he muses, placing his hand over yours but not stopping your actions. “we both know that i can make you cum much faster than you can.”

♡ jisung . . . when you first started dating your boyfriend jisung, you didn’t realise just how much time you’d be spending on your own. if he wasn’t away at practices, he was busy filming various videos and content, so a large portion of your day was spent waiting for him. this was not to say you were unsatisfied with your relationship, you still got to spend time with him and when you did, it was time well spent. all you were saying is that you got a little lonely and bored at times, and that would explain why you were currently standing by the sink, debating whether you should hit send. you had just finished taking a couple photos of yourself during a moment of confidence and horniness and now they sat in the message bar of yours and jisung’s dms, waiting to be sent. you and jisung had gone there multiple times, but nudes were unexplored territory, yet you thought, fuck it, and hit send. even though you know he’s busy, it doesn’t take long before the ‘delivered’ changes to a ‘seen’, and you watch as the typing bubbles appear and disappear a number of times. after five minutes or so, you’re starting to worry and overthink, biting your lip when you see that jisung is now trying to call you. you pick up and play it off with as much confidence as you can, but jisung sounds the opposite– breathing heavy and voice quiet, like he’s trying to make sure no one hears him, and you hear the sound of a lock clicking. “why would you– are you–”, he blubbers, clearly at a loss for words and you can just picture him, cheeks coated with a sheen of red, eyes wide and mouth opening and closing. “what are you doing right now?”, he asks in a goofy manner and you can’t help your chuckle at the sound of his shy voice, cooing into the speaker. “i was missing you, sungie…”, you mewl, positively beaming when you hear him audibly gulp. “was thinking about you.” his breathing quickens and he mumbles “thinking of me?”, before he clears his throat. “what about me?” you smile at his inability to balance his shyness and desire, and you tell him what you were thinking about, soon hearing the telltale sound of a zipper being pulled down.

[springseasonie]

Auralism Pt4 | PJS + ZCL (M)

Jisung x reader x Chenle

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

Summary: Immediately after your interesting introduction to your long time favorite voice actor, you walk to the back of your place of employment and see someone you weren't expecting.

Warming: sexual content, dom Jisung, sub Chenle, switch-ish reader, voyeurism, a little gay tension ???

Word count: 4,8k

A/N: had to write this like 3 times to finish it then I deleted it immediately after finishing on accident but then we got the doc back 🎉🎉 trials and tribulations my friends but it's finally done!! Very sorry for making promises I couldn't keep but I hope you all like it

Something told you to check the back room for your charger but you didn't expect to see the man you just said bye to 5 minutes ago with his dick in his hands. It's like time froze, the way you and Chenle stared at each other in that room. His eyes wide and your hand gripping the door knob. It was like a silent war being fought. Who would say something first, who would make the first move. Chenle glanced at your feet while watching you stare at the cameras. There was one pointing directly at the back of the counter like always.

It shouldn't have taken you this long to put two and two together, but it did and now alarms are going good in your head. You turned your head, looking away from him for a split second, but in that second, Chenle stood up and grabbed you. Your body instantly froze, a sharp gasp leaving your lips as the door slammed behind you, leaving you in the room with him.

“I know this looks bad but-”

“Looks bad,” you said, brows scrunched in confusion. “Your dick is out.”

Chenle looked down, realizing he was still in a very compromising position. Quickly, he turned and fixed himself, face as pale as ever. He's ever been so embarrassed in his life. Chenle wouldn't say he's the best at bidding his perverted thoughts, but he does a damn good job. But this time, he has no idea how he let himself slip up.

“Were you watching me?” You already knew the answer to the question, mouth becoming dry with each second that passed.

Chenle turned around, empty eyes staring at your bizzare expression. He wanted to say something badly, but he couldn't help himself but let his mind wander under your gaze of scrutiny. The fiery look in your eyes made him hot, the anger in your voice made him sweat.

“I-I was,” he admitted.

You gulped, taking deep breaths to try and stop yourself from becoming angrier than you already were. You never took him to be that kind of person but looks can clearly be deceiving. You and Chenle have always kept things on a very normal note, friendly conversation and brief contact outside of work, so to you, all of this was completely left field. But to him, he would think about it all the time. Chenle is good at hiding his feelings. He can keep it cordial with you if need be, playing the character of the nice reliable male coworker. But once he's clocked out, all he can think of is your pretty lips, the leggings you wear to work, the way you talk. He's obsessed with you and there's only one way to get you off his mind.

“That's a really fucked up thing to do,” you said, voice raising a bit. “That's a creep thing to do. You're a fucking creep.” For a moment, Jisung's presence in the building was completely forgotten. The only thing you could do is focus on your anger, trying to bite your tongue in the best way possible. A shiver shot up your spine watching him stare at your lips, the frown on your mouth not deterring him from his sinful thoughts. For some reason you kind of liked it.

“I'm really sorry,” he said. “I just…I don't know.”

“You're joking right? Instead of actually talking to me you watch me like a fucking weirdo.”

Your words travel right to his dick, degrading giving him a sense of gratification. The annoyance and anger you have for the current situation blinds the clear lustful expression on the man's face. Chenle can't speak knowing he has absolutely no rebuttal to anything you're saying, nodding at every word that comes out of your mouth.

“Fucking sick perverted freak,” you groan, reaching for your jacket and bag. You picked it up swiftly, leaving Chenle to stare at you with longing in his eyes.

Opening the door, you stared at your feet, not seeing the figure that stood in front of you, walking right into him.

“Did I scare you?” Jisung's deep voice snapped your chin up, looking at him with wide eyes after completely forgetting about him. Chenle stood and watched, a hint of jealousy starting to brew in him but also curiosity. He watched you fuck him on camera but would it be different in front of him? Would you be more shy and timid or would you turn it up a notch? Chenle wouldn't describe himself as a voyeur, but he's tempted to take on that label full time.

Jisung is an attractive guy, tall, deep voice, nice lips. Of course you're into him, he's practically perfect. Chenle doesn't think he's inferior to him, just a little different. Regardless, you're still attracted to him so it doesn't matter who you have sex with, he'll still have a chance.

“I'm sorry I forgot you were out there,” you said in a panic, only for Jisung to shrug his shoulders.

“Well I see that,” he says. He looks up from you, facing the man who stood across the room. “And who is this?”

Jisung eyes him closely, eyes moving up and down to size him up. You look at him nervously, gulping at the unwanted interaction. You didn't want this to end your chances of ever seeing him again, wanting for Chenle to go home as quickly as possible. But every time you looked at him he was hoping he didn't have to leave. He stood there silent as he allowed his hard on to grow more and more slowly. Was he thinking about fucking you and Jisung watches or the other around? Or was he thinking about Jisung and himself fucking you at the same time?

“Chenle.” You answer. “He was…”

“Watching us?” Jisung looks at you, brow raised when your brows furrow.

“I-I was not-”

“Don't lie,” Jisung said. Deep voice filled the room. “you're a creep.” Chenle watched Jisung sneak his hand around your waist, pulling you to his body. He pressed your hips against his groin, burying his face in your neck. A smirk slid across his face watching Chenle’s eyes widen at the sight, staring at Jisung's hands sliding down your hips and between your legs.

Chenle takes the scene in, your small gasp tickling his ears as he watches the man rub you between your leggings. He can feel the blood moving right to his dick making it harder and harder. He watches Jisung take his other hand off your hip and place it on your neck, holding your jaw firmly.

“Look at him Y/N, he looks like he's gonna explode,” Jisung says in your ear.

You look at Chenle whose cheeks are like tomatoes. Mouth slightly open, lips dry as he watches you get felt up steps away from him. He wants to touch you too, to feel you, hear you. You were beginning to enjoy this, Jisung touching you like he owned you and Chenle being forced to watch like a sad puppy. Jisung rubbed your clothes clit, smirking as you let out soft moans. 

“You're so pretty. Right Chenle? Isn't she pretty?” 

He gulped, breath hitching when the younger male suddenly turned his attention to him. “Y-yes of course.” 

“Prove it.” 

Chenle gave him a blank stare. “W-what?” 

“Show her how pretty you think she is.”

Chenle watches Jisung reach into your pants, your hands wrapped around his wrist as he begins to toy with your body, moans pouring from your lips. Mindlessly, Chenle's hands reach into his own as well, wrapping his palm around his cock, pumping it slowly.

“Fuck,” you whine softly, pushing your body against Jisung's hand more. Your eyes were closed, but there was no doubt Chenle's eyes were on you. Jisung kissed your forehead, circling his fingers in your soaked cunt while you grind, a scene that played in Chenle's mind for a long time. 

The male across the room kept pumping himself as slow as possible, not wanting to cum too fast from watching you. “Shit,” he mumbled.

“Tell her what you like about her,” Jisung ordered, blinking slowly at the man in front of him. 

“I..uh..” he could barely think straight. All he could think about was pushing the guy away and taking you right there. Feeling your tight pretty pussy around him, making you scream his name. “I like her eyes..”

Jisung scoffed, his gaze on you permanent as he slowly pushed two fingers into your wet hole. 

“J-Jisung, fuck,” you whines softly, knees feeling like jelly when he begins to move them in you. 

“I know baby, I know,” he mumbles. 

Chenle hadn't realized how fast he was pulling himself, hand constantly moving like it had a mind of its own. His heavy breathing was heard all over the room, so much so it caught your attention. You opened your eyes, staring right at him. His flushed cheeks, furrowed brows, pretty lips. You're loving this more and more as the seconds go by, wanting to torture him a little bit more. 

“Her eyes can't be the only thing you like.” 

Chenle opens his mouth, but can barely focus with the way you're grinding on Jisung's fingers, desperate for more as you maintain eye contact with him. “I-I like her lips. The way she says my name. I like her..fuck..her nice ass..” 

Your lips curve into a smirk hearing him speak, begging him to keep speaking. 

“Prettiest voice, prettiest moans..” 

Chenle is breathless at this point, mouth dry watching you bite your lip, furrowing your brows at the combination of Jisung's fingers and Chenle's praise. The sweat glistening on your forehead under the dim lighting made you even prettier. The boy's soft pants were turning into moans, hand quickly pumping himself as Jisung speeds up his fingers inside of you.

“Ji, oh fuck,” you whimpered, legs clamping around his hand.

“Gonna come for me, hm? Cum all over yourself like a dirty little slut?” 

He watches you, lips between his teeth as you nod fast, not daring to tear your eyes from him. His fingers continue pounding into your sloppy wet hole, the sound of your pussy filling the room. Your eyes roll back, pressure building in your stomach faster and faster. Your walls are getting tighter and tighter around his fingers, mouth open as you moan over and over again. 

“I-Im cumming, fuck Jisung,” you moan, head falling on his shoulder, body shaking at the feeling. Your cream all over his hand, hips pushing on his fingers more and more as you reached your high. 

The both of you completely forgot about the other body across the room, lost in each other's touch and feeling. Chenle didn't even realize he came until he removed his hand from his pants, the sticky liquid all over his hand making him cringe. He's never been in a situation like this before, watching someone have sex right in front of him, being caught watching someone. It's a turn on, a sensation he never knew existed. 

“Chenle,” Jisung stated, “get on your knees.”

“W-what?” 

“Get down.” 

Chenle felt his stomach erupt in nerves, carefully falling to his knees on the other side of the room. He watches you walk up to him carefully, the prettiest glow in your skin that he's ever seen. The man is silent as he watches you undress in front of him, shoes go first, your leggings come down painfully slow. He needed you so badly he could practically taste you already, already seeing how much you came through your panties.

“You don't get to touch her till I say so,” Jisung says, coming behind you placing his hands on your hips. 

Chenle gulped, still watching you from his lashes. You hadn't said a word, allowing Jisung to take the lead on the entire situation and for some reason that scared him. 

“What do you want from her right now?” 

Chenle gazed at you, a dreamy expression in his eyes while watching your hand trail done to your panties. “I want to taste her.” 

“I'll let you if you apologize,” you respond, a shaky breath falling from your lips when your finger grazes your swollen clit. 

“I-Im sorry.” 

“For?”

The man looked like a puppy below you, brows knit, faint whines coming from him. If he had a tail, it would be wagging off the charts. His hands are grabbing at his pants, his hard on so clearly visible. He's nervous, not sure what to say and it's making him sweat but he has to say something. 

“For…uh…”

“For being a creep,” you finish, tone a bit stern. He nods, making you raise your brow slightly. “Say it.” 

“I'm sorry for being a creep.” 

“And?”

He gulps. The back and forth is beginning to frustrate him, just wanting to move your ruined panties to the side and give you what you've been dying for. But he knows he needs to do whatever you ask. After all, he is in the wrong. 

“And watching you in secret.” 

“Good boy,” you mumbled with a soft smile. Jisung rubbed circles in your hips, watching you pull your soaked underwear to the side. Chenle didn't wait for a single second before letting his mouth attach to your core. He ate you like a starved man, sucking and licking any part of you he could. Chenle's sweaty palms grabbed your legs, squeezing your thighs as if they were stress balls. 

“Fuck he's really going at you baby,” Jisung's raspy voice spoke in your ear, hands slipping under your shirt massaging your breasts. Jisung kisses your neck softly and slowly, grinding his clothed cock on your ass. 

“Fuck Chenle,” you whimper softly. He sucks your clit nice and hard, slurping noises filling the room. “Just like that.” 

He looks at you through his lashes, big brown eyes staring at you for approval as he flicks his tongue on your sensitive bud. Chenle keeps going, unable to hold back making you begin to shiver. Chenle feels your legs getting weak, but the other male behind you holds you up. He starts to groan, feeling you grind on his mouth, wanting to feel more of him. Chenle sticks his tongue out, allowing you to grind on his face more. 

“You look so pretty, baby. Keep fucking his face, just like that,” Jisung whispers in your ear, instantly giving you butterflies. 

“Oh fuck,” you whine, grabbing Chenle's hair pulling him closer to you. He flicked his tongue on your sensitive bud faster, his groans turning you on more and more. He sucks your clit hard, your eyes rolling back at the feeling, getting closer and closer to your orgasm. “Shit.. you're such a good boy..” 

“Are you gonna cum in his mouth,” Jisung whispers. 

You nod, moans getting louder and louder by the second. Your grip on his hair got stronger, making the boy whine in pain and pleasure. You could feel him melt in your hands when you came, legs trembling when his tongue lapped up your juices, eyes never breaking from your pretty face. 

But before Chenle could get too carried away, Jisung pulls your hand off his head, pulling his face from your legs. He was a mess, his hair disheveled, lips pink and plump, face wet with your cum. He's never been this desperate for a girl in his life, but you bring it out in him in the most embarrassing way possible. 

“You had your fun,” Jisung mumbled, pulling your body from the man on the ground. “Now I'll have mine, and you're gonna stay there and watch.” 

Without a word of protest, the man pulled you to the small couch that was on the wall behind you, plopping into it. He watches you, eyes never leaving your body as you climb on top of him. You hadn't had sex in ages, the sheer anticipation of feeling him inside you sending you off your rocker. The location of the sinful act didn't even cross your mind, your place of employment now feeling like a second home in a way. 

Chenle almost immediately took his cock from his pants, pumping it to the sight of you on top of the other man, watching you grind and kiss him. He couldn't see your face, but he didn't need to, not when your ass was perfectly fine. His eyes traced the lines of your back, hand squeezing his shaft as he wished it was himself you were on top of. 

Jisung kisses you in the sloppiest way possible. Tongue and saliva everywhere, his hands all over your body. You put your hands on his shoulders, lips still locked to each other's as you feel his hands rubbing your thighs, snaking to your ass. His big hands squeeze you, pushing you on his hard cock for more stimulation. 

“I wanna sit on your cock,” you mumble on his lips, peppering kisses on his jawline. 

Jisung says nothing, just reaches down into his shorts, pulling out his rock hard cock. You straddled his lap, knees sinking into either side of him. The male underneath you, pulls your panties to the side, pressing his tip into you. From how much you struggled to get him into your mouth, you knew getting him inside you was going to be a challenge. 

“Fuck,” you sighed, brows knitting when you felt a slight stretch. 

“You can do it baby.” Jisung's breathe hitches the moment he feels your walls engulf his tip, squeezing around him him. It was taking everything in him not to just ram into you at the moment. His head falls back, your eyes still on his face. Chenle watched you, eyes burning into your back as he watched you grind on the man, taking in every inch of your body in. 

With every move you made, Chenle matched in his hands, stroking himself as you grind slowly, speeding up when you sped up. Your moans made him shiver, groaning softly as he squeezed himself in his palms. Chenle nearly came when you looked over your shoulder, staring right at him as you moved the scene feeling like it came right out a porno. 

Jisung held onto your hips, fingertips pressing into your sides tight. He couldn't stop thinking about how you probably dreamt of this moment, thought about fucking him all the time, riding him till you cried. He could tell by your face that you were completely lost in the movements. So wet, he could slip out of you at any time. “Fuck baby, you feel so good,” he groaned, brows furrowed. 

Jisung smirked, eyes looking over your shoulder to see the other man jerking himself at an embarrassingly fast pace watching you ride him. Jisung held your hips tight, taking in your whimpering as you began to move faster. “Fuck, so big,” you whine, holding his shoulders tight. Your body shivers in his hands, hot skin making his palms sweat.

The sounds from your lips almost sent Chenle into overdrive, your sweet soft voice crying out and begging for more making him harder and harder. Chenle shivered when his fingertips dragged over his sensitive tip, the action making his hips buck into his hand. All he could do was imagine it was your tight pussy around his throbbing cock, imagine you were riding the life out of him. Chenle watches the way Jisung digs his fingers into your flesh, drinking every indent the man makes in your skin. He just wants to touch you, fuck you, make you feel good, but you won't let him. He doesn't mind, at least you didn't smack him and kick him out. 

Jisung slides his hands to your ass, squeezing tight as he begins to groan softly. “Just like that baby girl,” he said, a raspy voice filling your ears. “You wanna cum on my cock?” 

“Y-yes..” A gasp flies out your lips when Jisung lifts  you off his lap, laying you down on the couch. The man threw your leg in the air, sitting it on his shoulder as he stuffed his cock back inside you. You could barely catch your breath when he began drilling into you, your moans turning into whines and cries of pleasure all while lying there staring at Chenle who was still watching in awe. 

Chenle pumped his cock faster, watching the way your chest rose as you breathed. Your face fell on the dirty fabric, eyes fluttering open to look directly into his. A smile pulled your lips as you reached your hand between your legs, rubbing your clit as you watched him. Seeing him absolutely lost in you, helpless and desperate, wanting to feel you and be inside you, made you feel powerful. Chenle's moans were music to your ears, Jisung's hands all over your body, your senses heightened. 

“Fuck..I'm gonna cum,” you moaned breathlessly. 

“Yeah,” Chenle, sucking in his breath fast when he started to feel himself getting close. You watched him watch you moan uncontrollably, your lust taking over your senses seeing how fucked out he already was with just his hand. 

“Chenle,” you whimper, making the boy's eyes go wide. “Chenle, I'm so fucking close.”

Jisung didn't bat an eyelash, smirking as he continued to fuck the life out of you. His lip slipped between his teeth watching you rub your sensitive clit faster, pounding into you harder. “That's my girl,” he grunted. “Keep playing with yourself, cum all over me.” 

Your fingers kept rubbing, eye contact never breaking with Chenle while Jisung kept going as if he wasn't even there. The teary look on your face sent the man into overdrive, just that one look making him spill out all over his hand with a loud moan. Chenle couldn’t bear to look away from you, so pretty and sweaty, eyes wet with lust and desire. He's pathetic and he knows it, but if it makes you happy he'll live with it.

Jisung's grip on your leg tightens, his climax closer and closer. You can recognize those moans and grunts from anywhere, knowing he was about to cum. 

“Cum Jisung, cum in me,” you whimpered, mascara covering your cheeks. “Shit, shit..” Your orgasm hit you like a car, your whimpers turning into loud cries, body jerking underneath the man on top of you. Jisung still continued to pound into you, practically fucking the breath out of your body. With every gasp that left your lips, he went harder. Your trembling hands reached up, grabbing at his chest as you whined loudly. 

“I'm almost there, baby girl..” you were so tight around him, he was surprised he could even move. Jisung pounded into you until he came deep inside you, holding his breath as he released inside of you. “Fuck,” he groaned. 

A calm silence fell over the room, nothing but breathing bouncing off the walls and into your ears. You're hot, sweaty and completely delirious to the events that have just taken place within the past 30 minutes. Having sex with your favorite voice actor in front of your hot perverted coworker was not in your plans for the night, but you definitely cannot complain. 

“I can cross that off my bucket list,” Jisung chuckled, breaking the silence. “Jesus, that was fucking crazy..” 

“Yeah,” you agreed. But that was the only thing you could say. You couldn't even look at Jisung, let alone Chenle who still sat on the floor in front of you two. That's when you and Jisung hear shuffling, turning your heads to look at the man standing up in a hurry, shoving his now flaccid cock back into his pants. 

“I-I uh… I have to go.” Chenle grabbed his things hastily, bolting for the door without sparing either of you a second glance. 

Before you protest, the door slams, leaving you and Jisung alone. You look up at the man, mouth open in shock. 

“Wasn't that fun,” he says, beaming a tired smile at you. Jisung pulls out, his cum slowly dripping out of you onto the black couch. 

“That was…something else.” You're still shell shocked, the events not yet setting in. Jisung shuffles from between your legs, fixing up his pants and clothes. That's when you notice just how naked you actually were. “Fuck,” you mumbled. 

Putting your clothes back on, your legs felt sore from holding them in position for too long. A small hiss left your lips, making Jisung chuckle softly. “I did a bit much, didn't I,” he questioned. 

“Nothing I didn't like.” 

You stand up, slipping your shoes on while he towers over you, watching you silently with a smirk on his face. “Give me your number.” 

Your eyebrows shoot to your forehead, somewhat confused and surprised at his request. “My number?”

“Did you think I was gonna fuck you and never speak to you again? Especially when you're such a devoted fan?”

There it goes, your stomach erupting into butterflies like earlier. “You always know the right things to say,” you laugh. You're trying to keep it together, but unfortunately you're easy to read. 

“So, can I have it?” He licks his lips, eyeing you down like he's going to devour you. 

You gulp, nodding at his request. 

“Good girl. I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

~

Walking into work the next day made your head rattle. All you could focus on were the sinful acts that took place behind that very counter your coworker Lily stood. You try to keep it normal, saying hi to everyone before walking into the back. 

Your body tenses when you see Chenle putting his things in his locker, the man turning around hearing your footsteps. You were expecting him to ice you out, but he gave you a small smile, nodding his head at you. 

“Hey,” he greeted, completely monotone. 

“Hey..” you put your things in your locker, gulping as he stood there, trying to not make it obvious that he was staring at you. But the awkward energy was eating away at your insides so you had to say something. “About yesterday I-”

“I'm sorry I stormed out. I was completely overwhelmed and embarrassed,” he interrupted. 

Your brows scrunch, head cocked to the side in confusion. “Embarrassed? Why were you-”

“I shouldn't have watched you like that. I'm sorry,” he admitted, avoiding eye contact. 

Your expression was blank, trying to compute his words. “Chenle, I don't care about any of that.” 

“Oh…”

“I wanted to tell you that yesterday was fun. I had fun and I hope you did too,” you said looking up at him sheepishly. “I hope this doesn't make things awkward between us.”

“I-it’s not awkward!” 

“Are you sure?? It seems awkward now,” you chuckle. 

Chenle takes a deep breath, before turning to you, his fingers toying with the sleeve of his jacket. “Listen, I really like you and yesterday was… an enigma. I want to get to know you on more of a personal note.” 

“Yesterday was personal.”

Chenle sighed, closing his eyes to try and rephrase his words. You stood there watching him struggle in amusement as he faced the ground. “Not personal in that way, personal in less of a coworker way,” he says. “A friendly way.” 

The reality of having options weighs on you all of sudden. You're very much attracted to both Jisung and Chenle. Chenle is cute, and wants to know you on more than a sexual level. Jisung has been your wet dream for years and seems like a pretty cool guy, not to mention the sexual chemistry with both of them is out of this world. There's no way they'd let you have your cake and eat it too. But you wouldn't know unless you try. 

You took a deep breath before speaking, biting your tongue as you stared at him through your lashes. “Jisung and I are hanging out later if you want to come,” you say quietly. 

“Oh,” he says. Chenle's mouth goes dry looking at your face. “I-I could hang out with you guys.” 

“Only if you want to,” you add. 

“I-I want to.” 

“Are you sure?” You sense a bit of doubt in his answer but that feeling immediately goes away when you watch his jaw clench and his eyes harden. 

He nods, his staring only intensifying as the clatter in the cafe plays in your ears as back noise. He wants you so badly at the moment, to just shove you in the lockers and show you a good time, but he won't and he can't, so for now all he can do is agree to hang out with you. 

“Then um.. I'll see you later.” Your body is hot as you scurry away from the man, his unintentional hungry gaze making you feel small, but you liked it. 

“Yeah, bye.” His words faded out as the door shut behind you, leaving him with nothing but his thoughts and his hard on. Chenle would never describe himself as a cuck but after the events that transpired the night before, watching the girl who isn't his girl but still his girl gets fucked by a handsome man wasn't all that bad. 

And he can't wait to do it again. 

[sxcret-garden]

Chenle ღ Greedy [M]

ღ NCT Dream Chenle x fem!reader ღ words: ~3k ღ genre: smut (hard dom!Chenle, sub!reader, reader is handcuffed to the bed, spanking, finger sucking, fingering, nipple play, he’s a tease, begging, degradation/degrading nicknames for reader, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, dacryphilia, unprotected sex, some aftercare) ღ warnings: heavy dom-sub dynamic

Desc.: You’re feeling greedy today and your boyfriend is absolutely here for it.

Author's note: So I wasn't planning on posting this today but I know it'll take me an eternity to do it if I don't do it right away so.... here you go aksdjföklsdf do with it what you want asjdkfjdlösakfa bYE jdkfjlas

He sits down on the bed next to you, supporting himself on one arm as he leans in, coming just a bit closer so as to get a good look at your face. The deep mischief reflecting in his eyes and the amused smile that just won’t fade tell you he’s ready to play with you, tease you until you can’t take it anymore, like he has done so many times before.

“What do you want, my pretty girl?” Chenle asks, the soft tone in his voice almost making you think he’ll be nice for a change. Your lips part, but you’re unsure what to say, so after a while they close again and you swallow thickly, causing him to let out a soft laugh. Even something so small will amuse your boyfriend when you’re spread out for him on his bed, stripped of all clothes, the thick leader band of the cuffs used to tie you to the bed fitting perfectly around your wrists. He picked them out just for you, made you come along to the shop where he bought them to have you try them on, despite your initial embarrassment about it, but ever since then he’s proven to you more than once that it paid off.

It’s about to pay off again, you know that. The only question is - how much will you have to endure in the process?

“Sweet little kitten, doesn’t know what to say,” he mutters as he pouts at you, reaching out to run the back of his hand against your cheek. “Don’t pretend you’re all innocent now.”

“I-...” you say, but you find yourself hesitating all over again. Hot blood rushes through your veins when his voice drops, barely noticeable, and yet the tension in the air around you rises.

“What?” He withdraws his hand. “Don’t want me to do anything? We can do that too. You just lie there and I watch.” He gets up, and you immediately refute,

“No, I-!”

“You what?” He turns on his heels to look at you, cocking his head to the side just a bit. A smile appears on his lips, one that you know not to trust, and then he crawls onto the bed, hovering above you. His hand grabbing your chin, he makes it so you’re unable to look away when he continues, “Say it, or we’re not getting anywhere.”

“T-touch me…”

“Louder.” 

“Want you to touch me.” You furrow your eyebrows as you speak the request out loud, but it wouldn’t be your boyfriend if he didn’t use this as an opportunity to tease.

“But I am touching you,” he says, his fingers still holding your chin in place.

“I mean-... more…elsewhere,” you stammer, being vague in your follow-up, because you crave his touch everywhere. But he isn’t satisfied with that, so he gets up on his knees.

“Elsewhere?” he asks, mockingly. “Sweetheart, don’t you wanna get more specific?” The cocky look on his face and the way it’s clear as day who’s in charge here makes heat rush to your core and you gulp.

“Everywhere…” you say, earning yourself a smirk from him. He kneels between your legs, your knees up, and you feel him rubbing his palm against the underside of one of your thighs. Watching each other closely, you suck in a sharp breath as if you knew what was coming, and when you feel the impact against your soft flesh, you mewl from the pain turning into pleasure.

“I give you the option to choose and you immediately become greedy…” Chenle comments. “See? This is why you’re tied up.” He rubs a few soothing circles onto the spot where he spanked you, before lifting his hand up and doing it again. This time as well, a moan falls from your lips, and you roll your eyes back. “But you’re even enjoying it when I put you in your place, hm?” he mutters darkly, and as you glance at him you can see the bulge forming in his pants. 

“Y-yes…” you admit, to his delight.

“Even saying yes… you really want me to know what a little perv you are, huh?” You furrow your eyebrows at his words, an involuntary pout gracing your lips. “Well…” Chenle crawls on top of you again, placing a kiss onto your sternum. “Where should I start then… with touching you everywhere?”

“K-kiss… want a kiss…” you mewl, and you quickly add clarification, “On the mouth.”

“A kiss?” he repeats, before he lets one hand wander to the back of your neck. “I can give you that.” He leans in, lips brushing against yours, and the chaste touch only leaves you wanting more, both frustration and heat bubbling up deep inside you.

“M-more…” you slur as he’s parting from you.

“More? Like that?” He leans in again, this time kissing you properly and you moan into the kiss when he parts your lips with his tongue to slip it inside. He kisses you feverishly, teeth nibbling on your lower lip before deepening the kiss further, and when he suddenly rolls his hips against yours once, his clothed length grazing your folds, you gasp, resulting in you breaking the kiss. “Liked that?” he asks, provocatively. As if the answer wasn’t clear.

“Y-yeah…”

“Perv,” he says, before pulling away. “Open up,” he adds, thumb brushing against your lips and you do. Opening your mouth for him, you watch as he puts a finger inside, and you immediately swirl the tip of your tongue around it. “How many do you want?” he keeps going, adding one more. “Two? Three?” He puts inside another one, lustful sparks flaring up in his eyes as he watches your lips closing around them. You begin to suck on them, and again he merely smirks.

“Three? Is that it?” You nod, and your pussy clenches around nothing at the thought of having them inside you elsewhere soon. Coating them in your own spit, you make sure to run your tongue along his digits thoroughly, and when he pulls out there’s a string of your saliva connecting them to your lips, which snaps apart eventually. He smears the liquid across your chest as he draws an imaginary line from your throat through the valley of your breasts and down to your stomach.

“But can you take them?” he questions. “All at once?” When he runs his fingertips through your folds, you gasp in surprise, and you whine when he prods at your entrance, unable to shove all three of them inside you just yet. “Gotta start small… you’re too greedy for your own good.” His words sound almost endearing now, and you bite your lower lip when he slips a single finger inside you. He pumps it in and out of you slowly, his gaze fixated on your face the entire time, and the exact moment he can see you starting to lose patience, he grins at you, and before you can ask for more, he says, “Patience, baby.” Your words get stuck in your throat, and when he takes his finger out only to drag it all the way back up to your belly button, it’s hard to suppress the curse wanting to escape you. He leans in as he removes his hand, licking up a clean stripe where he spread your juices that he had gathered on his digit, and he hums at your taste. For a split second you dare to hope he would let you feel his tongue against your cunt, but when he instead kisses his way up, you immediately let go of that thought. Instead, he wraps his lips around one of your nipples, making you whine as he begins to gently suck on it, only to reach for the other with his hand in order to not so gently squeeze it between his fingers. You moan unexpectedly, the sensation of him tending to your nipples making you become dizzy.

“So fucking cute,” he whispers, licking the sensitive bud once, before sinking his teeth into your flesh right next to it. You whimper at the impact, and the urge to run your fingers through his hair makes you tear at the handcuffs. “Relax, baby,” Chenle mutters in between nibbling and biting until the skin begins to bruise. “We have all night.” And he’s right, you could keep going for however long he pleases - and you know he would never finish a session leaving you unsatisfied. And so his words alleviate the impatience for a little while, as he finishes placing his mark on you, next to the ones he’s left the days before, which are already starting to fade. He brushes his thumb against each one of them, as if marvelling at his artwork, and when he’s satisfied with looking, he continues kissing his way up, this time halting once he’s reached your neck. He licks up a stripe until just below your earlobe, making you shiver underneath him, and then you can hear him whisper,

“Three fingers, huh…” You suck in a sharp breath when you feel him returning his hand to your core, running his digits up and down your folds before burying a finger inside you again. “Beg for it, my pretty girl.” And you do, a string of pleas falling from your lips as you find yourself tearing at the handcuffs some more.

“P-please… gimme your fingers… want them to fill me up… wanna be s-stuffed,” you hickup in desperation, and he doesn’t miss the chance to mock you for it.

“Stuffed with my fingers? Like the little cumslut you are?”

“P-please…!” You cry out, and he brings some distance between your faces in order to take in your pained expression. And then he finally gives you at least a second finger, and the glee behind his gaze is obvious when you let out a broken moan and you clench around his digits. “F-feels good… but… not enough…”

“No, of course it’s not enough for my greedy girl,” he mutters, curling them inside you and pressing his thumb against your clit, drawing slow circles onto it. You know if he keeps this up you won’t last long, so you beg some more.

“M-more… please… w-wanna be stuffed…”

“I know… can’t get enough of them, hm? My fingers in your cute little cunt.”

“N-no…” you mewl weakly, feeling your high building up in the pits of your stomach. And yet you keep begging, you keep asking for more, because maybe he is right - maybe you are a little greedy after all, but so be it. You can’t get enough of all the ways in which your boyfriend pleases you, inflicts pain on you, only to please you even more at the end of it all.

“Fuck you’re so cute,” he praises as he watches, not even thinking about giving you what you’re begging for so prettily. 

“P-please… please… before I cum…”

“Gonna cum on just two?” he asks and you nod, eyes shut tightly now as you’re trying - but ultimately failing - to suppress your orgasm that’s about to wash over you. “You want three but are gonna cum on just two… such a greedy whore.” The second you hear his last word, something snaps inside of you and you cry out. Your walls convulse around him, and as your body is shaken, you can only moan incoherently. But to your surprise he doesn’t stop as you’re coming down from your high. Because now he adds a third finger, making the overstimulation even harder to bear as he isn’t even thinking about giving you a break. And you’re squirming underneath him, whining and whimpering and unable to articulate yourself as he keeps working his fingers inside your twitching cunt.

“F-fuck… shit…” you sputter. “T-too much… too much…!” Tears well up in your eyes as the pleasure burns itself into your bones, and yet you’re not even thinking about calling the safe word. No, you want him to ruin you, want him to see you like this, see what effect only he has on you and no other, want him to get off on your pain.

But he doesn’t touch himself, he’s focused on you and only you, even the strain on his pants must be beyond uncomfortable by now.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty like this,” he hisses through gritted teeth as he keeps going, and you’re about to lose your mind. And then another high takes you by surprise, pain shoots through your wrists and into your arms as you tear at the handcuffs while your whole body shakes under the waves of intense pleasure, and this time when you’re coming down from it, he at least stops his movements to let you rest. “You okay?” he asks, his tone serious and different from how he’s spoken to you ever since tying you up.

“Yes…” you respond weakly, trying to catch your breath. And then you add, “...more.” Chenle huffs at you, the state you’re in, and how you’re asking for him to ruin you further. But you know it’s a request he wouldn’t deny.

“More what? You’re still not satisfied?” 

“F-fingers… want… more… be filled up… completely…” you babble, the blissful afterglow of the orgasm combined with the power he has over you making it hard to speak. He lets out a laugh now.

“A fourth one? You think we can fit four into your tight little cunt?”

“T-try… please…”

“You just can’t get enough, huh?” He leans in, almost whispering in your ear now, “What are you? Are you my greedy little cumslut?”

“Y-yes… am your… greedy cumslut…” you merely repeat his words, as forming any clear thoughts becomes harder. And just as you finish speaking, he adds a fourth finger into your hole, just like you wanted. And it slips in a lot more easily than you had imagined, and that makes him chuckle too.

“You’re taking them so well,” he says as he begins curling them against your walls once again. “Too well, almost.” You squirm a bit as he starts pleasuring you again, but this time the overstimulation is bearable, and is sure to make way for pure bliss soon enough.

“Ch-chenle…!” you cry out his name. “‘M gonna… cum again…”

“Again? This fast?” he mocks you, and you feel yourself clenching around him at the degradation. “Didn’t think you’d be that horny.” And as much as you want to answer, tell him how good he makes you feel, prove to him that you really deserve having him pleasing you like this, all that comes out when your lips part are broken moans and curses. And while he keeps telling you how cute you are, and how dirty you are too, your next high is already approaching at light speed, until…

He pulls out. The deprivation of his touch is sudden, and it makes you gasp at how empty it leaves you feeling. You look at him, only to see him fondling with the zip of his pants, and you hold your breath as him taking them off along with the rest of his clothing feels like an eternity to you.

“Get on your knees,” he says, helping you turn around, and when your rear is facing him, your front pressed against the sheets, you perk up your ass for him a little higher. “Such a good girl,” you earn yourself a praise accompanied by his hand flying to your behind, and the impact makes you cry out, eyes watering. And this time the tears fall, right when he pushes up into you, and he doesn’t hesitate to go hard. “Fuck…” Pounding into you from behind, strings of curses make their way past his lips, and you keep whining at every single time he pulls almost all the way out, only to slam back inside a second later. Your head is spinning as you cry and you whine and you dig your fingernails into your palms, and you clench around your boyfriend’s twitching cock, wishing for nothing but to cum just as he fills you up. 

“Cum for me…” he hisses, nearing his own high. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? Cum on my cock, greedy little whore…” His words sting, and they make you dizzy, and as you’re trying to say something that comes out as nothing but incoherent sounds, another orgasm washes over you. Even your moans are slurred now, as he keeps thrusting into you throughout your high, and then finally, he releases inside you, and you almost choke on your spit when his cum fills you up.

He comes to a halt, allowing for you both to rest for just a tiny bit in this position, before he pulls out of you and immediately makes sure to turn you back around, guiding your tired body into a comfortable position. He reaches for the bottle of water he had prepared beforehand, making you take a few sips, and then he cleans you both up with a tissue, careful not to accidentally overstimulate you again with his touches. 

“How was that?” he asks, bringing his hand up to your face to brush his thumb against your cheek.

“...good…” you mumble, unable to muster the strength to say anything else, and it makes him chuckle.

“Good? Is that all I get?” he asks in pretended offense, and you give him a weak smile before he leans in to place a kiss onto your forehead. “Want me to undo them for you?” he then asks, pointing at the handcuffs with his chin. You nod, but he hesitates in order to offer you a second option. “Are you sure? Not greedy anymore?” The expression on his face changes as he poses that question, and despite the exhaustion tugging at your limbs, the implication that he’s willing to give you even more tempts you.

“Am always greedy…” you manage to say, and your boyfriend presses a kiss to your mouth, before crawling back on top of you, his lips travelling down your throat and to your chest.

“I figured you’d say that…” he mutters. “Then let’s see if I feel like giving you another treat or not.”

[rrxnjun]

potential • z. chenle

pairing. zhong chenle x fem! reader genre. rich kids au, childhood friends au, friends with benefits au. angst, fluff, suggestive. word count. 20k (20.079) warnings. alcohol consumption, swearing, mentions of sexual activity, sexual innuendos, a heavy make out session or two, use of lyrics from ariana grande and sarah close and masking them as my own words a/n. why do we call it a rich kid chenle au when he's a rich kid irl. anyways for the fact that this was one of the most spontaneous fics ive ever written it sure did take a lot of time to execute. took a lot of inspo for the lifestyle from the sky castle kdrama so if its not accurate dont @ me bc ive never been rich LMAO

playlist. in my head – ariana grande ; successful – ariana grande ; nonsense – sabrina carpenter ; supermodel – måneskin ; that's what i like – bruno mars

You saw his potential without seeing credentials. And maybe that's the issue.

August 28, 2020 – somewhere in the Bali sea, 1:27 AM

The music is loud. The weather is humid.

Wrapping up the summer before your senior year, dancing around in the bar of the cruise ship in the middle of the ocean, one last stop before your 28-day cruise around Southeast Asia is over, the loud music from the bar rings in your ears as you dance around, a glass of expensive Mendis coconut Brandy swirling in your hold. The taste of the alcohol on your tongue burns, not quite used to the burning sensation in your mouth– this is one of the first times you’re drinking, since your parents were always big on prestige and acting classy. Your parents went to sleep, though– excited to explore Benoa tomorrow, to immerse themselves in nature and explore Bali’s temples and heritage. You, on the other hand, took this as an opportunity to party– accompanied by none other than your parents’ friend’s son, who grew into the position of your childhood best friend solely because his and your family have always been close, choosing to spend vacations together; a relationship that was mostly fueled by the immediate closeness of you two during the summer breaks and ski trips to Swiss Alps every January.

And while you’re no stranger to pearls, charity events in your parents’ mansion in Hong Kong, golf courses in Miami and fashion shows in Milan, growing up in the world of designer bags and prestigious titles, you feel quite stranded in the middle of the sweaty teenagers, all of them with the same social status as you, drinking expensive alcohol and swinging your hips to the EDM music playing through the speakers. It almost feels like this is the first time you’re able to enjoy yourself without anyone’s supervision, screaming at the top of your lungs into Zhong Chenle’s face as he laughs at you on the dance floor, and truth be told, you could care less about the pictures you’re going to take for your Instagram tomorrow, showing everyone just how good you’re doing and how much fun you’re having on your lengthy cruises around the continent, because somehow, even though the bar is clothed in gold and you feel a bit like in The great Gatsby, this feels like the least pressuring part of the whole trip.

“We should go to parties more often!” you scream into Chenle’s ear, taking a sip of your Brandy as you twirl yourself around him, the straps of your sparkly spaghetti-strap tiny top falling off your shoulders in a moment of carelessness, your thoughts somewhere completely else. You may be 19 years old and insanely wealthy, but that still doesn’t mean you are experienced in the art of partying– quite the opposite, actually, having to always seem cultivated and presenting yourself in a way that would suggest that your family is high on prestige and recognition– so to finally be surrounded by people your age, dancing along to the music and jumping up as you all chant the lyrics to Barbie girl by Aqua (how ironic) feels quite ecstatic.

“Like our parents would let us,” Chenle rolls his eyes, lips almost pressed against the shell of your ear as he makes sure to get close enough for you to hear him.

Sighing at his argument– knowing he’s absolutely right, but also hating the fact that he had to ruin your mood by stating it out loud– you shake your head as you down the last bits of your drink, putting the heavy glass onto the tray of a waiter that’s passing by to gather the rest of the empty ones scattered across the shiny tables in the corner of the room. Your brain is starting to get a little fuzzy and you can’t help the giggling escaping out of your throat whenever your eyes meet Chenle’s, the flush on the boy’s cheeks hinting at the fact that he’s not any better at handling his alcohol than you, having just as much experience in heavy drinking and partying as you do. 

You’re only 19 years old and you don’t know a lot about the world. After all, you were brought up in a family that always did everything for you– you never had to move a single finger. You never even had to clean your room, because your parents had people that would come by every morning while you were in school, just so you could arrive home to a tidy place when you were done with your lectures. You went to a private school, so you were always surrounded by people with a status similar to yours. You spoke about your tutoring classes that cost more than groceries for a middle-class family a week, you talked about your trips abroad, and if you had time, you even went shopping with your classmates after school before your driver picked you up and drove you back into the suburbs; your neighborhood guarded by a gate, the asphalt behind it so much smoother than it is in the rest of the town.

You never got to experience partying like this– only gaping with an open mouth when you saw those scenes in the movies you watched on Netflix in your own private movie room. And if you’re being totally honest, you never imagined enjoying such a thing. You never had the experience, so you didn’t really yearn for it, but now that you’re here, surrounded by loud music, experiencing the weird emotional feeling that comes with being in a crowd screaming in joy at the same time first-hand on your own skin, you don’t think you’ll be able to go back to how you were before.

This is not how rich kids party. At least not when their parents are around.

“You’re gonna be hungover tomorrow morning,” Chenle mutters into your ear when your eyes light up at the sight of more alcohol, contemplating on getting another drink, just because. 

“And you’re not?” you tease him, pointing to his glossy eyes and lazy walk, his legs tangling with each other every few seconds from the haze he’s been put in just by having a few drinks. The sight is quite funny– the ever-so composed millionaire son is now a troubled mess in your eyes; one wrong step and he could ruin the image his family has spent years to build up, but it doesn’t seem like either of you care, tripping over your feet and lounging at each other in the middle of the dance floor. 

Feeling like you’re playing a dangerous game, hanging off his neck and swaying your hips to the rhythmic beat, you gape into his blown-out eyes and desperately try to get your brain straight. The more you drank and the more you spent time in Chenle’s close proximity, the less you were able to control your emotions and the weird thoughts in your brain that have been slowly eating up all your notions for quite some time now. Gaping at his plump lips and feeling his palms burning at your hips, his fingers ever-so-slightly hovering above the curve of your ass, you’re finding it hard to concentrate on the music or on the words spilling off his tongue, his voice never shutting up even in the loud bar. You always told him he talks too much, but he doesn’t seem to mind– he seems to actually take much pride in his annoying tendencies, talking your ear off on multiple occasions even when you tell him he should probably stay quiet for at least a minute, so your brain could recharge.

Truth be told, you listen to him most of the time anyway. He always talks and you always listen, rolling your eyes at the snarky parts and giggling at the jokes; so the fact that you suddenly can’t focus and just desperately want him to shut the fuck up must be the effect of all the alcohol you’ve been drinking tonight. 

And your next step might as well be the main consequence of the coconut Brandy as well– because even though you’ve been dreaming of his plump lips on yours for quite some time now, you’ve never actually dared to act up on the desire. But your intention to make him go quiet seems to be working when the train of words stammering out of his mouth is cut off, a surprised noise trailing out of his throat when you kiss him on the dance floor; and to your surprise, he doesn’t seem to mind your weird sign of protest to his endless talking– quite the opposite, really, as he lets you take the lead and taste the mix of alcohol in the Long Island cocktails he’s been drinking the whole night off his tongue, your hands mindlessly trailing up to thread themselves into his hair. 

This is not your first time kissing a boy– you once pecked Song Eunseok on the lips when the two of you sneaked out of class one day in 9th grade– but you never once kissed anyone with such passion and desire before. You’re not sure where you got all the courage from and you’re also not sure where you learned all of this– but it must be working, with how heavily Chenle’s breathing when you finally let go of his lips and he rests his forehead against yours. In no time, he’s chasing you down again, drunk not only on the alcohol now as he tilts his head to get closer, one hand resting on the side of your neck, just a few inches below your jaw, keeping you in place. 

“You should learn how to shut up,” you mumble against his lips, breathing heavy as you break away from him again and open your eyes to meet your gaze with his. The music is still loud in your ears, but you swear you hear a static noise somewhere in your brain, a tingle in your fingertips making you feel like you’re about to have an out-of-body experience. Your drunken brain is not allowing you to ponder about your actions that much, not letting you think and contemplate the fact that you just made out with your childhood best friend on one of the most expensive cruise ships, drinking alcohol you weren’t supposed to spend so much money on, and maybe that’s a good thing– because there’s nothing stopping you in having the time of your life, no overthinking making you doubt your next steps and no feeling of shame or regret making the whole experience bitter as you dance pressed against your companion, letting him press short, yet daring kisses to your lips as time passes.

“I think I’m good,” he snickers, when the music suddenly cuts out, an announcer telling you that the bar closes at 2 AM and that this song is the last for the night.

Sighing in disappointment– because who even knows when the next time you’ll have this opportunity will come– you let Chenle lead you out of the bar, his hand glued around your exposed waist. Your walk is a little loop-sided and you two almost smash into the glass door (doesn’t matter that it’s automatic and it quite literally opened in front of your figures). Soon enough, you’re met with the golden interior of the cruise walls again, the design a little vintage, yet still luxurious, reminding you of the movie Titanic. Tripping over the doorsteps, hands getting caught on the red, velvety curtains hung around, you giggle at every word that comes out of Chenle’s mouth, bodies slowly, but surely getting closer and closer to your suite bedrooms. You’re quite sure your parents could hear you talking outside in the hall, but you choose to not ponder on what they would think of you if they saw you in this state too much, instead making yourself believe that they’re long asleep and won’t be woken up by your voices resonating through the quiet space. 

“So I guess this is where we say goodnight?” you mumble, hanging off Chenle’s neck. His breath smells of the vodka-tequila mix when he hovers over you, bodies off-balance pressed against the cold wall just outside of your bedroom. Flashing you a grin, face looking close to a cheshire cat, he nudges your nose with his, a quiet hum landing to your ear, not heard by anyone.

“Or we could stay up a little longer.”

Squirming under his touch, his lips softly, yet still a little uncoordinatedly landing on yours, you waste no time in unlocking the door to your room– even though you have a bit of trouble with finding the key in your small purse, even surprised you haven’t lost the bag somewhere in the middle of the night– letting your childhood friend in to your space at the suggestion, your clothed bodies falling to the soft cushions of the water bed. 

You’re only 19 and don’t know much about the world when you messily undress yourself under your friend’s eyes, blinded by the glints in his deep chocolate orbs when he looks at you from above and attacks your neck with kisses. And you usually don’t regret much, considering yourself a responsible individual, always rethinking everything and making sure it’s the right choice, but when you look back at this day now, you don’t really know if sleeping with Zhong Chenle on a cruise around Southeast Asia was the brightest idea of yours, considering the mental turmoil it’s gonna cause you on the way.

Well, at least you can say you lost your virginity somewhere in the middle of the Bali sea, and at least that’s something to boost your ego with, am I right…? 

July 12, 2007 – Tokyo DisneySea, 2:21 PM

If anyone asked you for your favorite childhood memory, you wouldn’t have a hard time picking one. Sure, one would think you have too many pleasant memories to choose from, so realistically, you should take more time to pick and weigh the value of each one, contemplating if the trip to Rome was a happier memory than the summer you spent in Los Angeles when you were 10, but you are 100%, completely in tune with the fact that if anyone ever asked you this very question, the words falling off their tongue with interest and enthusiasm, no judgment and no hidden intentions behind their question, you’d have an answer ready with a smile on your face.

You don’t hold much emotion to your past memories. You’ve been on more vacations than you can both count and remember growing up, and so even though you do think the pictures you took in Italy came out good and your skin glistens prettily in the warm sun, even though you do think you experienced a lot of fun while going to the Target for the first time with your nanny– the woman your mum hired just because your parents were too busy with their business meetings the whole time you walked the streets of Los Angeles with the new woman you were supposed to trust with your life at the ripe age of 10– you wouldn’t say any of those memories are as close to your heart as the trip you took to Japan with the Zhong family when you were 6, the summer before attending first grade.

This was the year you and Chenle watched the Pirates of the Caribbean together for the first time, and even though it wasn’t in the initial plan, you two spent hours and hours and hours  of the flight persuading your parents to take you to Tokyo Disneyland, because you heard from his cousin Yizhuo that you could meet Jack Sparrow if you went. While your plan didn’t exactly work and the two of you didn’t get to go to the large theme park– because your parents were busy, mostly traveling because of business and so they didn’t have the time to arrange it, the amount of sulking you two did when you arrived to the rented house in the expensive part of Tokyo to the teenager that was supposed to watch you two for the time being was enough for him to take you two on a short train ride to the twin of the famous theme park– the Tokyo DisneySea. 

The 15-minute train ride you three took to the theme park was your first, and also last time you ever rode such a mean of transport. All you were used to were expensive sports cars and limousines– you never imagined that people took such transport even every single day, at times. You and Chenle were so immersed in the journey that it was hard for your babysitter to get you out of the train, your small, excited bodies almost tripping over your own little feet as the raven-haired boy dragged you through the streets of Maihama station. 

You could see the towers of the park and you could smell the salt from the sea even from a distance. The whole atmosphere felt magical, giggles often erupting out of your throat as Yuta– the boy your parents hired to watch over you for the day– bought a bubble blower from one of the stands and blew out bubbles you two chased around and tried to pop before they got to the ground. There were no expensive cars in sight, no people dressed in suits and designer shoes– well, except from the two of you, but you couldn’t quite grasp the idea of how much your attire cost at that age yet– and you felt truly, insanely happy. The adults that always watched you when your parents went to business meetings were stern and serious, never letting you have much fun, but today was different, and you find yourself wondering why your parents even let you be babysat by a reckless teenager in the first place. He was 16 at the time– 10 years older than the both of you– and when you look back at the day now, you think it was the time pressure that brought your parents into hiring him. You bet they paid him a lot of money, hell, you bet they even lended him a credit card he could use to entertain you two for the whole afternoon, and even though you found him using it a few times, you didn’t think he spent just as much as all your previous babysitters did. 

Not that you knew the value of money back then, after all. Maybe the fact that you couldn’t tell how much money everything was worth back then is what truly made the whole day so carefree and happy for you.

You were children of wealthy Chinese business owners. You always had everything they saw in your eyes– you didn’t even have to say it out loud and it was held up to you on a silver platter. This day, though, you didn’t even have to use that much money– if you truly compare it to other vacations your families have been to– and you can’t help but think it’s ironic how despite this fact, this day is still your favorite childhood memory. 

The Tokyo DisneySea was catered to a more mature audience– even serving alcohol in the premises, a thing no other Disneyland does– but even though you were just 6 and couldn’t drink and there was no Jack Sparrow waiting for you in the streets of the theme park, you and Chenle had a blast. Maybe it was a good decision on Yuta’s part to take you to the DisneySea instead; it catered to your Pirates of the Caribbean needs perfectly despite it not being the initial theme. The ships and wooden coasts and harbors were enough for your imagination to create stories about pirates in your head, the three of you attending various rides and screaming at the top of your lungs together over the course of the afternoon.

“Wanna go to the Tower of Terror?” Yuta asked you, his toothy grin on full display as he dragged you two to the scary ride when you finally got to the American Waterfront. 

The teenager was wearing a black muscle top with L’arc en ciel written on it– you found out only a few years later that it was a japanese rock band– and with his long, black hair falling to his forehead, he looked just like the person that would enjoy scary rides and horror movies. You, however– you weren’t prepared to get scared by green ghosts and eerie music. Not at 6 years old anyways, although you doubt you’d do better on this day.

If there’s one thing you need to know about Zhong Chenle, it’s the fact that he’s a lover of horror. And Korean dramas. But mostly horror– a few years later, when you were both the age Nakamoto Yuta was when he brought you to the Tokyo DisneySea, your friend came to a Halloween party dressed like the clown from IT and managed to jump-scare you every moment he physically got. There was no surprise in the small boy liking the idea of attending the scary ride, and no matter how hard you tried and protested, there was no use in you saying no. Because the two of them wanted to go, and you, quoting Yuta, ‘couldn’t just stay alone outside’, so you were pretty much forced into the darkness of the Tower of Terror, your small body pressed against Chenle and Yuta’s– you refused to sit anywhere but sandwiched between the two in the middle of the cart– shutting your eyes close when the scary music started playing and you could feel the anxiety forming in the pit of your stomach.

You trembled the whole time, panic resting in your beating heart, and somewhere along the way, you found yourself clinging to Chenle’s small hand, squishing it so hard he screamed at you in the dim lightning of the ride. You didn’t let go, though– that’s what he gets for dragging you along– fracturing his bones wasn’t in your concerns, if it made you feel more secure and safe.

The fond memory of the day ends with the moment the scary ride is over and you finally get out of the darkness– with Yuta having to carry your out of terror half-paralyzed body from the cart. To this day, you still don’t have a clear outlook on why this day is your favorite childhood memory, but you think it might be the mix of Chenle’s excited laughter as he scared you every two seconds after the ride, the apologetic hug he enveloped you in after you almost burst to tears the third time, the taste of the sausage Yuta bought you two for dinner, the taxi ride to the rented house you had to take in a rush before your parents got back from their business meeting, and the melodic voice of your best friend when he sang you the opening theme to the Pirates of the Caribbean before you two fell asleep on the same bed in your hotel room.

Either way, despite the terror, you don’t think you’ve ever had this much fun ever again. 

When you peed the bed that night, your parents decided to never hire a teenager to look after the two of you again. From that moment alone, there was less horror, but also less fun.

May 5, 2019 – tennis courts in Jinqiao, Shanghai, 4:17 PM

One would think that growing up with Zhong Chenle would put him into a position of your almost-brother. And while you did agree with the statement on most days– like when he laughed so hard that snot came out of his nose and almost fell into your lunch plate when you were 15, or when he shot you with his paintball gun so hard you had a bruise on your knee for three weeks when you were 17– you think you’re starting to slowly outgrow this phase. 

Zhong Chenle is no longer a brotherly figure to you when you two pick up tennis at the ripe age of 18. 

It wasn’t either of your ideas, of course. Tennis is not a sport a teenager just suddenly picks up one day because they’re interested– at least not when you’re incredibly wealthy and can pretty much afford any other hobby in the entire world. No, it was the idea of Chenle’s mother– because, quoting, ‘the kids barely go out these days, they might as well pick up a sport!’ – and with the copycat tendencies of your dear mum, you were dragged along into it as well. And so now, during the finals season, on top of that, you two have to go play tennis on one of the private tennis courts your families rent for three hours a day every Friday afternoon instead of studying or focusing on getting your stress out of your body doing other, much more enjoyable things.

“You know, you look a little too excited for someone who hates playing tennis,” Renjun– the neighborhood kid (your parents being business partners for quite some time now made you and the short boy become friends somewhere along the way)– states, snickering as he lays on one of the benches on the side, his own tennis racket thrown carelessly on the ground as he watches the two of you running around the court, playing.

“I only do it because I’m bored,” Chenle mutters under his nose, sending the little yellow ball over the net with much force, making you run to the other side of the court. 

“And I only do it because I need to prove to him that he’s not the best at everything he tries,” you add, sending the ball back to your friend. 

“Just say you want to impress him and go,” Yizhuo– Chenle’s cousin from his mother’s side– teases you from the bench, sitting next to Renjun. Her remark doesn’t go unnoticed by you as you send the yellow ball her way after her cousin passes it towards your side of the court again, aiming precisely for her forehead but missing, earning yourself a terrified yelp out of the girl when she scootches closer to the boy next to her.

“That’s totally not what’s going on, but sure,” you roll your eyes at her when she throws the ball back, but you don’t feel interested in continuing the game anymore. Tiredly walking closer to the two sitting at the little shaded bench, wiping the sweat off your forehead, you try hard to not think of the snarky remark that was sent your way. 

Is it really that obvious? Because sure, you’ve always found Zhong Chenle to be your brother figure over the years of growing up– but there’s something about the humid air of the tennis court and his competitiveness that have you eyeing him when he takes a sip from his water bottle or when he adjusts the hairband sitting on his damp forehead. He wears shorts that reveal his calves very nicely, and when you play 2 on 2, you find yourself focusing less and less on the game– earning yourself a frustrated yell from Ning Yizhuo herself as she plays along your side– and more and more on the Gucci tennis shoes adorning his feet as you scan the boy up and down, his figure growing taller and taller each passing day captivating you in a sense you’ve never quite experienced before.

“I can’t believe my mum dragged you all into this shit,” Chenle giggles when he sits next to Renjun on the bench, following you to the shade. There’s only 20 minutes left in the time your parents rented the court for and you figure that you can spend that time recharging your energy instead of playing the boring game. 

“Not me,” Yizhuo says, “she made my mother feel bad about not signing me up for any sports. You know, your mum’s pretty persuasive, especially when it comes to looking good in front of everyone. If it wasn’t for my mum, I wouldn’t be doing this shit,” she complains, shrugging as she adjusts her ponytail that’s always sitting neatly on the crown of her head.

“I love the fact that Renjun here is the least athletic out of all of us, but he is the only one here willingly,” you snicker, earning yourself a chant of amused laughs at the spoken truth. Now, nobody forced Huang Renjun to come play tennis with you every Friday– but the fact that he doesn’t have many friends in the neighborhood was what made him come along, too bored on his own and with nothing to put his attention to. He doesn’t like playing much, but everything’s better than sitting alone at home, am I right?

The three of you gossip about everything and nothing– the new family in the neighborhood, especially, because Renjun saw their son last Sunday and found his outfit absolutely atrocious (“You’d think people with money would at least know how to dress well, but no. That’s not the case with that Wen Junhui guy.”). The time passes by quickly, and when the timer on Chenle’s phone goes off, signaling that the three mandatory hours at the tennis court are finally over, you all stand up and walk over to the gate, shoes dragging along the sandy surface of the ground with much tiredness. At least you’re getting some cardio in…

“Is your driver coming to pick you up?” Chenle asks as you pay goodbye to your friends, both of them getting into expensive cars waiting for them at the parking lot. Turning to him, you hum in agreement, suddenly shy under his gaze. It’s not even summer yet, but the May sun is already harsh on the skin, getting redness to spread along his cheeks, only further sculpting his handsome bone structure you’ve grown so familiar with over the years. 

“What about you?” 

“Told my mum I’ll walk home instead. It’s not like it’s only a 20 minute walk anyway,” he mutters, rolling his eyes at the irony of you having to drive home despite living only a few meters away from him, in the same wealthy neighborhood. You grew up together, in the same mowed lawns, in the same green labyrinths of your families’ villas, in the same high ceilings and golden accents on the interior of your houses. After watching him from the corner of your eye, you start to wonder about what changed between the two of you that made you so weak to him now, that you’re both 18. Did he change? Was it the fact that you were now both adults? You don’t think that’s the case– because even though you were 18, there were no more responsibilities waiting for you than they were the years before. 

“My driver can take you,” you say, kicking the rocks below your feet, “well, unless you want to walk home alone instead,” you add, noting his previous sentence.

You see him take a sip out of his water bottle, shrugging at your suggestion. Chenle’s not a fan of inefficiency, no matter the fact that you can afford anything you could ever want. It’s a quality of him you find quite strange some days, but you don’t ponder on it too much. 

You’ve known each other since you were in diapers. And after replaying all the memories you have with the boy in your head, you think that your 18 year old self isn’t so stupid for falling for him. See– you’ve got to know a lot of men over the course of your life. Many tried to get with you barely before you even grew into an adult, seeing the vision of money and the social status you could give them. Some, on the other hand, never gave you back the attention you were giving them. All relationships you had in your life were blinded by the imaginary price tag you always carried around with yourself, and so everything always stayed surface-level and plain. No wonder you fell for Chenle– no matter how long it took you to get to this part of your friendship– he’s the only one that ever showed you his true self, he’s the only one that ever trusted you enough to go deeper in conversations with you and treated you like a real human being. You know him well and he knows you well; he’s like a book you always find yourself rereading, excited to find that your favorite characters always stayed the same. At the end of the day, you think you were always meant to fall for Chenle.

Standing under the blazing sun, you wait for your driver to get to the tennis courts. You wait for 10 minutes, then 15– and when you get a little too overheated, Chenle offers you his water bottle and mumbles something about being on time. When the time passes 45 minutes after your driver’s supposed arrival, your friend turns to you with a glint in his eye, a grin sitting on his annoyingly handsome face.

“Wanna walk home with me instead?”

And the truth is, you don’t find yourself disagreeing. And you also don’t find yourself hating the walk up the hills of the neighborhood– no matter how tiring it was to your already exhausted limbs– and you don’t find yourself complaining about the lack of AC or the vehicle driving your ass home to your, admittedly, too big of a house. Chenle entertains you with his talks– because he always talks too much for his own good– and when you stop paying attention to him and lose track of where you’re going, he drags you back to the sidewalk by your hand and your fingers stay interlocked when he teases you about the fact that you almost got ran over by a white Cadillac. 

“Listen, there’s this song I think you’ll like,” he hums when you’re 5 minutes away from your house, pulling out his phone out of his back pocket and opening up the Spotify app. He plays you a song by Ariana Grande, singing along to the lyrics of the chorus. His voice goes thin when he tries to mimic the singer’s voice, dragging along the english sentences of ‘it feels so good to be this young and have this fun and be successful, i’m so successful!’, irony seeping from his tone. Your hands are still intertwined as he swings them back and forth and you don’t even really care about the subtle implication of the lyrics he’s singing– because it’s Chenle, and despite being just as wealthy as you, he’s no stranger to calling you a snob. 

When you’re 18 and walking back from your weekly tennis endeavors, you can’t help but feel the fluttering in your heart when your friend twirls you around in your driveway, your white tennis skirt childishly fulfilling your unsaid dreams of becoming a ballerina, before he walks to his house standing on the opposite side of the road. 

You don’t even care that your poor driver got fired by your mother right after she realized he forgot to pick you up from the tennis court as much.

October 17, 2020 – a charity evening, Shanghai, 9:11 PM

Your whole life so far has been guided in the aura of money. When you were little, you didn’t realize it as much– your young, undeveloped brain couldn’t phantom the fact that your annual trips to Italy and summer vacations at yachts and in the Paris DisneyLand weren’t a normal occurrence to everyone. You couldn’t understand the value of money, and you think that maybe, you never truly will. Because you were born fortunate, never having to worry about a single thing, always living in wealth and with gold around your neck. 

The closest you are to understanding just how much money your family truly has is at the charity evenings you are forced to attend. Walking around, mostly bored– because truly, you didn’t have much of an idea just how much money you’re sending to the unfortunate parts of Africa and what the whole thing even has to do with you, when the money wasn’t really yours in the first place– you try to at least look through the flier your family made for the event, reading through the carefully crafted sentences, feeling at least a little sorry for everyone that doesn’t get to live the way you do.

“Isn’t it funny how this is the only way our families can present themselves in a good light?” Chenle mumbles when he reads over your shoulder, a dry chuckle leaving his lips.

Turning around to look at your companion, you furrow your brows at his snarky comment. “What do you mean?”

“Well, we give to charity so people don’t hate us as much,” Chenle shrugs, taking a sip from the champagne poured in a tall glass you’re pretty sure your mother spent hours and hours picking out when renting this place, just so everything could be perfect. 

“It’s just jealousy,” you say as you walk side-by-side with the boy, the expensive fabric of his white button-down hugging his body in all the right places, leaving you light-headed when you let yourself indulge in your thoughts for too long and stare at the curves of his forearms. It’s been a few months since you slept with your childhood friend– and while you must admit that you regretted it a little when you woke up in the morning, with a hangover and sore limbs, you also didn’t regret it as much as to turn the offer down when it was next brought to you. And the next time, and the next… 

“You think?” Chenle asks, and his interest in your answer seems genuine.

“Yeah,” you nod, shrugging to yourself, “we have more money than any of them ever will, so it’s only natural for people to feel jealous and talk spiteful things about us.”

Chenle hums at your answer, licking his lips before he looks you dead in the eye, the smallest glint of irony shining from behind the dark orbs, making you shrink under his gaze. “It’s not like it’s hard work anyway,” Chenle mutters, “if it wasn’t all stolen money, at least the charity work wouldn’t feel as fake.”

You stop in your tracks at the comment, furrowing your brows. “Stolen money?”

The boy next to you snickers at your clueless eyes. It’s no wonder you never really cared about the source of your family’s wealth– you were born to it, so you never had a reason to doubt it. And truth be told, you never really complained either. You don’t think anyone in your place would, really. You just accepted it the way it is, and you never asked any questions. For all you know, your parents are hard working business owners– you bet their money is well deserved for the amount of effort they put in– so to hear that it’s stolen money, from someone who is in a similar position as you, on top of that, you can’t believe your ears.

“I mean, they’re business owners. Let’s not act like both yours and my parents don’t meddle with the taxes at least a bit, sweetheart,” he chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief, “if I were all those people outside of it, I’d hate myself too.”

His words do little to comfort you. They do quite the opposite, really, and even though Zhong Chenle has no proof to show you of the fact that your parents might have at least a bit of dirty money on their hands, you can’t say you don’t trust a word that comes out of his mouth. You start to wonder if you’re that gullible– and who is the one lying straight to your eyes now, if it’s your friend or your parents– and you start to believe that you’d trust everything Chenle tells you, because that’s just the relationship you have with him. He could do anything and you’d follow him to the end of the world. It takes years to build that bond, and so even know, although you have the urge to scream at him for talking such things about the ones that brought you to this world– this perfect, shiny world– you find yourself holding back, the bubble around you bursting in a second, although you spent 19 years of your life living in the fake glory and bejeweled experience. Opening your mouth to ask him more about the matter– to get yourself out of the confusion you’ve been put in with just a few sentences uttered out of his always too-honest mouth, you turn to the boy when a man with a camera approaches the two of you, asking to take a picture of you.

And you comply, because what else are you supposed to do? This is how you’ve been raised. You smile for the pictures, you grin when you find yourself in the magazines, you nod when people recognise your name, you greet people with a polite nod, because you never know when someone wants to make business with your parents and you wouldn’t want to ruin good opportunities for them, would you?

With Chenle’s arm around your waist, your body instinctively leaning into his touch, you smile for yet another picture for the portfolio. Sometimes you feel like a princess– with everything it takes; both the royal responsibilities and the special treatment. More often than not, you find yourself enjoying the spotlight.

“Now they have proof that we were here,” Chenle mumbles into your ear, his lips gently brushing the smooth skin, “wanna get out of here? This party doesn’t look as enjoyable as the last one we went to,” the boy references the time you spent together at the cruise ship, with both the screaming on the dancefloor, and also the aftermath in your room, making heat puddle in your cheeks as you swat his hand away before it gets too low on your back in front of everyone in the room.

“I have to give a speech, but… maybe later?” you look at him, innocently batting your eyelashes at him, when the boy shrugs and takes a step back, downing the last drops of champagne from the expensive looking glass.

“I’ll be waiting back home,” Chenle says, “I bet our parents will stay until this all ends, so we have plenty of time for ourselves when you decide you’re tired of the gala.”

He disappears out of your sight the moment after, putting the empty glass onto a tray of one of the waiters carefully walking across the room, his back escaping out the front door. If you squint hard enough through the glass, you could see him getting into one of the sports cars he got from his parents for his 18th birthday– the vehicle driving off in the hands of his driver for the night, since he just had a glass of alcohol– and leaving you alone in the world of faux and feathers, fulfilling the responsibilities given to you by your mother. And for the first time– not only because you hate giving public speeches– you so desperately want to follow him, getting out before midnight like Cinderella, never attending another one of these evenings ever again. 

You don’t, though. You’re an obedient daughter.

And when you call him up from the entryway a few minutes after midnight, his rough hands welcoming you to his bedroom by undressing the thousand-dollar Tiffany dress you wore to the event– being the aftermath of his previous words or not, you start to think how ironic it is that your attire for the evening cost more than than the monthly rent of the people you were giving to in your speech. 

After a while, your words turn bitter.

March 23, 2020 – South Cape Owners Club, Namhae-gun, Gyeongsangnam-do, South Korea, 1:17 PM

“Did you really have to choose the most boring thing to do for your birthday?” Chenle mutters under his nose when all of your parents stride forward to get another hole in one, beads of sweat appearing on your foreheads as you stand directly under the midday sun. 

“This wasn’t my idea, okay?” Renjun huffs, carrying his golf equipment with him, the silly-looking golf gloves tugged right off his hands when his parents are no longer in sight. “All I wanted was to visit my grandma, but they decided we needed to do something special for my birthday, and when I couldn’t tell them anything I’d like to do, they dragged everyone to play golf.”

“I was thinking more like… clubbing and then crashing at your grandma’s place overnight, but okay…” Yizhuo snickers, watching as all of your parents joyfully talk between themselves, their conversation rarely leaving business matters as they play golf with as much enthusiasm as one can have while focusing on this boring sport. You don’t really know who made this game and why they made it– you can imagine seventy thousand different ways you’d love to spend your afternoon doing instead, more than a half of them supposedly more mundane than the sport itself; but you still know you’d enjoy even sitting down and getting ice cream better than having to pretend you’re interested in, what Chenle called, rich-people-only sport. 

“Maybe I can sneak a bottle up into my room later, but I’m not promising anything,” Renjun shrugs, sighing to himself as he takes out his phone from his back pocket and shakes his head at the sight of the time appearing on his screen. You’ve been at the golf course since 10 AM, and with how interested in the game your parents seem to be, you’re not leaving any time soon either.

Not really engaged in the conversation– because Chenle once told you you complain too much (you truly thought he was the one doing so, but you believe pretty much everything that comes out of the man’s mouth, because he’s mostly right about things) and you think you’ve done your fair share of complaining on your way to the golf course in the first place– you look around, trying to find a thing that could occupy your attention instead. Finding anything fun to do while playing golf may just be the hardest thing to do, but when you notice your companion Chenle missing and his figure appears striding towards your small group in a golf cart, the vehicle going full speed (even the barely 40 km/h looks like it could kill when he seems to not give a single damn about running you over), and suddenly, your mind is occupied enough.

Screeching when the golf cart barely misses your figure, you jump to the side and watch Chenle laugh from the driver’s seat. His malicious instincts barely ever leave his body and the operation of a golf cart is seemingly bringing out the worst in him– thank god he barely drives anymore– and you can’t help but laugh at his little stunt when the cart comes to a sharp halt and he waves you three over with a motion of his hand.

“Hop on, motherfuckers, we have places to be!” he says, all of you following his footsteps and jumping into the small vehicle– you in the passenger seat, next to Chenle, and Renjun and Yizhuo taking the two seats on the back. Once you’re all in, the engine grunts with the speed Chenle’s intending to get to in the weak thing, the atmosphere shifts into one with much more fun and adrenaline– because you know you’re not supposed to ride the carts (not this fast anyway) and when your parents find out, you’re gonna get in a lot of trouble. No, you’re not going to get grounded– you’re not a kid anymore– but the silent treatment and nagging from them about being well-raised and respectable members of society is enough to leave you scared of their anger for the rest of your lives.

“Slow down, I’m gonna fall out!” you scream when Chenle takes a sharp turn, the golf cart almost toppling over on the green grass. 

“I got you, don’t worry,” he notes, one of his hands loosely falling to your thigh to keep you in place, your skin heating up even more from his touch now, enjoying the hold but also fearing the eyes of your friends from the backseat. Your earlier terror is quickly erased with another sharp turn the driver takes– having much more things to worry about now, surviving being one of them– and when he zooms past the group of middle-aged people standing a few meters ahead of you, you already know you’re in big trouble.

Now you’re gonna get scolded for abducting a golf cart. When it wasn’t even your idea in the first place.

Well, that’s something to worry about later.

Chenle drives with the cart all over the golf course, the vehicle providing you enough entertainment for the next few minutes until you get tired of the ride. Looking over at him on your side, gaping a little at the view of your childhood friend driving the cart with only one hand, the other one still securely glazing your thigh, you almost choke out with how attractive the strange sight is to your eyes. Forcing yourself to focus on the road– and thank god, because if you didn’t hold to the side of the cart now, you’d surely fall out despite Chenle’s reassuring words and his hold on your leg– when the man cuts through a small hill in the golf course, the vehicle jumping up and falling back down making you scream in terror mixed with just a bit of excitement.

“Fucking hell, at least warn us before!” Renjun screams from the back, followed by Yizhuo’s amused laughter. You can only imagine Renjun’s almost fallen out, and even though the mental image looks hilarious, you really don’t need him to get hurt today, because he wouldn’t shut up about it for the next 8 working days. And it’s his birthday, after all– you wouldn’t wanna ruin it by having too much fun.

And so, with a last giggle escaping the boy’s throat, Chenle brings the golf cart to a halt, the vehicle stopping far enough from your parents to not get scolded immediately for making so much ruckus at the golf cart, the four of you enjoying the silence, still recovering from the wild ride. Smiling fondly to yourself and gaping at the boy next to you again, you suddenly grow appreciative of him. If it wasn’t for his wild nature, you would still be sulking somewhere on the golf course, pretending to enjoy living your snobby life alongside your parents. You bet even Renjun himself will find this moment captured in his brain as a core birthday memory, and the more you stare at Chenle’s side profile, the more you want to hold his face in your hands and thank him.

“Ew,” you hear Yizhuo’s voice from behind you, bringing you out of your thoughts. Looking back to see what she’s referring to, you watch her gaze landing on Chenle’s hand playing with the flesh on your thigh, heat suddenly rising to your cheeks in being caught in the exact position you feared a little while ago. 

“What–” Chenle snaps his head back at his cousin, while you quickly shrug his palm off your skin, but it’s too late now– you’ve been caught in the act and now you can’t do anything to erase Ning Yizhuo’s memory.

“You know, I thought you two were cousins at first. Like, from your dad’s side, I mean,” Yizhuo sighs, shaking her head in disbelief at the two of you, her comment not doing much to ease the situation either. Chenle seems to be confused at her words, his face scrunching up as he glares at the girl.

“We’re not,” you note, clearing your throat and looking at her with a glare, mentally praying for her to drop the topic.

“Yeah, thank god,” Chenle adds, and you should’ve expected him to make the situation even worse– it’s Zhong Chenle, after all– but his next words shock you and leave you gasping, mentally killing him right here and in this moment, “that would make a lot of things weird.”

“Ew,” Yizhuo repeats, and suddenly, that perks up Renjun’s attention– the boy previously facing the other side of the golf course and not paying you three much care– as he looks around and watches you with confusion in his features.

“What are you talking about?”

“That they are–” the girl takes it upon herself to explain her findings, but she’s quickly cut off by a sound of a middle-aged woman screaming through the place, her small figure striding towards the golf cart.

“Zhong Chenle, what do you think you’re doing?!”

And with that scolding tone, the previous topic is dropped. Thank god.

June 12, 2020 – Zhong Chenle’s room, Shanghai, 11:21 PM

A hand stroking through his hair, smoothing back the bangs and revealing his forehead in the dim blue of the neon light in his room, you lay on your side next to your friend Chenle, a blanket carelessly thrown over your half-naked middles to shield you from the breeze. You hum a song under your breath as you play with his locks, the black disappearing between your fingers like sand, eyes carefully watching his tired expression. 

If you thought hard enough, you could see the little boy you first met at your parent’s conference room when you were 3 materialize in front of your eyes. His cheeks were chubby and he was short, waddling behind you almost a head less than your size, and his voice was thin as he asked you for your name. From that moment on, you knew you were supposed to stick together– and while your parents were the first relative to bring you two together, you didn’t mind always being glued to each other’s hips. 

When you look closer at him now, it’s hard to see that boy in him. Harder than you expected, if you’re being totally honest. Don’t get me wrong, you can still see in his features– even though his cheekbones are more prominent now and his jaw is more chiseled, lips plumper and his figure built more firmly than when he was a little boy– but there’s something about his demeanor that completely changed over time. He seems less enthusiastic, and while one would think that it’s just him growing into being a more laid-back and relaxed person– he’s not a kid anymore, after all– you think there’s something more to it, you just can’t quite put your finger to it. 

Seeing him close his eyes every once in a while, lids falling under the weight of his tiredness and the comfort your gentle strokes through his scalp give him, you feel your heart clench with all the care you’re currently putting into the boy, and all that you’ve been putting into him throughout your growing up. After so many years– after getting so close and intimate with him– you don’t think you’d be able to let the boy go, and just the sheer image of ever losing him or leaving him behind leaves you trembling with anxiety. 

And so, despite being afraid of ruining the calm atmosphere that comes after making love to him, you speak up with a weak voice, contrasting to what you’re logically supposed to feel after getting to know the news this morning– just because you have to know. 

“Lele?” you mumble, hearing him let out a hum, his voice sounding as if he’s half-asleep, but you know he’s listening to you. “What are your plans… after you graduate?” you ask. The day of graduation is coming faster and faster towards you, the years you’ve spent at high school finally fulfilled after all the effort you put in on your finals.

“Dunno,” he replies, eyes barely opened as his arm that’s been previously laid on the mattress in between your two bodies moves to your hip, fingers drumming over the soft skin, “why?”

“Just wondering…” you speak, voice barely louder than a whisper. The boy stays silent– his eyes once again closing on themselves as you continue to play with his hair. One would think he’s fallen asleep, not awake enough to have this conversation, and you would even believe the fact and let the conversation go, thinking you’d find another time to dwell on this topic, but then, as a surprise, his voice startles you from your deep thoughts when he curiously inquires you, the hand on your hip steadying.

“What about you?”

Taking a deep breath in and out, a smile battling to take over your lips, you lick your lips in the heartbeat that comes before your answer. Swallowing your nerves– because even though you should’ve told him the moment you got the news this morning, you’re somehow stressed out about the action of doing so– you open your mouth and finally break the rules to him. 

“I… I got to Yale,” you say, on your toes. The joy and relief you felt this morning when you saw the email appear on your phone screen is daring to creep into the way you speak to Chenle right now, but you’re keeping it in. Not letting yourself scream and shout the accomplishment from the rooftops, you look at the boy, not a change appearing on his face at hearing your announcement. “I got into their business program,” you add anxiously, waiting for him to say something– anything– to your news.

As your friend, he’s supposed to be happy for you, isn’t he? He’s supposed to hug you now and squeeze you and tell you how you’ve done a good job and that he’s proud of you and that he’s cheering you on in your dream. None of it comes, though, as he only hums and nods at your sentences, not even bothering to open his eyes to look at you when you oh so excitedly talk to him about your life goals. 

Something inside of you breaks just the tiniest bit, your mood falling as you anxiously chew on the inside of your cheek.

“Are you not gonna say anything?” you demand, halting your movements through his raven locks, averting your touch and looking at him curiously.

You watch him as he finally opens his eyes and looks at you with an empty look, licking his lips before humming again and asking you in a tone of voice that barely meets interest or excitement. “So you’re gonna be a businesswomen like your mum when you get your degree?” he asks, nodding to himself.

“Yeah,” you answer, clearing your throat. You’re a little confused at his weird stance towards the topic, but you battle out a tight-lipped smile. ���I’m hoping for it.”

He hums again, the noise seemingly enough for him to consider it a valid conversation holder, a deadpan: “Good,” leaving his lips after a second, making you furrow your brows in confusion and utter disappointment. This is not the way you imagined the conversation to go– this is not how you wanted it to go at all.

Heaving out a sigh, you tug your arm to yourself, contemplating on speaking up– knowing you’re just gonna make everything worse if you do– but doing so anyway. “That’s all you’re gonna say?”

“I mean, what else is there to say?” 

Looking at him in disbelief, your face scrunching up in various different emotions, all mixing into one– disappointment being the dominant feel, you think, you scoff at him. This is not Zhong Chenle as you know him, and sure, he hasn’t been the most overly-excited, cheerful individual these past few months, but you still think you deserve at least a bit of praise for the achievement of getting into one of the hardest universities to get to in the world, no?

“I don’t know, you could… congratulate me, I guess…? Tell me I did a good job, I dunno… would be nice,” you mutter, snickering once more to prove your irritation with the man.

“Oh,” he says, looking genuinely surprised, taken-aback, even, “well, congrats on the legacy admission, I guess,” he says, nonchalant, as if his words aren’t a dagger to your heart each second that passes, your blood pressure rising as the reality downs on you that he’s being serious and that this is not a sick joke.

“The legacy admission?” you repeat, eyes big and shocked, your whole body moving an inch away from him on the bed without you realizing.

“Yeah,” he shrugs, not a bit caring about breaking you from the inside, the humiliation slowly creeping from the tips of your fingertips to the depths of your soul.

“So you’re saying I went through the whole admission process and put in so much effort only for you to say that I got in because of stupid legacy?” you chirp, gazing at him with sharp eyes, blood boiling from the impact of his words. “What legacy are you even talking about?”

“Don’t act like you’re not a nepo baby,” he snickers, rolling his eyes.

Gasping at his words, baffled at the unexpected reaction, you stand up on the bed and stare at him with sharp eyes. At a loss for words, you stutter a little when you speak up again and utter out the next words, hoping to hit him where it hurts. “Like you’re not?”

“Never said I’m not,” he shrugs, “don’t have a problem with admitting I am.”

“So you’re saying I only got to university because of my parents,” you get out, glossy eyes scanning his peaceful figure, “so you’re saying I’m not smart enough to get into Yale?” 

“That’s not what I said–”

“But you implied.”

“You only hear what you want to hear,” Chenle sighs, as if he was tired of your antics, which only makes you more furious at the whole interaction.

“No, Chenle–” you stutter, his name rolling off your tongue as if it was meant to stop him with hurting you even more for discrediting your efforts, yet, you can’t find any more words to say to him as you stare at this limb body laying on the soft mattress of his king sized bed, shaking your head in disbelief.

Standing up from the bed and scattering around the room for your clothes, ignoring the way putting them on in front of him makes you feel like you’ve been stripped away from all your dignity, you hurriedly come to the door of his bedroom, almost forgetting your phone that you gather on your way out from the messy desk in the right corner of the room. 

“Where are you going?” he asks monotonously, watching you move through the place.

“Home,” you bark out, running your hand through your hair as you walk back to the door, ignoring the hot tears pricking your eyes at the feeling of your whole entire world collapsing in on you when he mourns from the bed.

“Don’t be mad, it’s not like I said anything bad…”

“Goodnight,” you snap, not bothering to look back at him as you escape his house in the middle of the night, running through the street to your house much earlier than you anticipated, wiping at your cheeks with angry palms. 

This is the first time he disappointed you, and you can’t tell if that felt worse, or if it was the excitement slowly and painfully stripping off your bones, making you feel like you’re running around without your flesh, completely see-through for everyone around.

June 27, 2020 – IFC Mall, Shanghai, 4:33 PM

“Do you think this makes my ass look extra hot?” Yizhuo asks, gaze shifting from you to Chenle to Renjun, the four of you currently in one of the designer shops at the mall. Leaning on the wall, arms crossed on your chest and chewing on the inside of your cheek, you shrug, not a word escaping your mouth.

“I’m your cousin, I’m not looking at your ass like that,” Chenle mutters under his nose, sighing as he takes a seat on one of the expensive looking sofas situated in the changing room, resting his head against the neck rest and closing his eyes in what seems to be tiredness or annoyance– either of, or both mixed in, equal parts.

“Oh come on, I need to know!”

“It does look super hot, Yizhuo, now can you–”

“So you are staring at my butt!” Yizhuo excitedly yelps, pointing a sharp finger towards Renjun, a bright grin settling onto her lips when the accused boy stutters, cheeks reddening at her comment.

“You literally asked us to, for fuck’s sake!”

“You could’ve refused, just like Chenle did,” she shrugs, smiling to herself in victory. If anyone was listening to your conversation right now, they would surely have a lot of questions you wouldn’t be able to respond to. Hell, even you’re confused half of the time you hang out with Ning Yizhuo– what the hell is going on in her head?

“He’s your family, of course he refused,” Renjun mutters, shaking his head as he drags a hand through his hair in despair.

“Whatever you say, Renjunie,” she chirps, closing the curtain behind her and changing back into the pants she wore when she got to the store in one swift motion, leaving the boy puzzled with her next words as she walks up to the counter, “I’m only buying those because you think I look super hot in them, just so you know.”

Paying for her things and escaping the store, the rest of you tagging along, you notice the boy aimlessly trying to forget about the whole situation, and his prayers were listened to, after all, since Yizhuo seems to drop the topic after teasing him so much, turning to you instead. Walking alongside with you, leaving the two boys a few steps ahead, she nudges you with her elbow, raising up her brow in question.

“What’s up with you? You haven’t even tried anything on,” she notes, “and we both know you’ve been eyeing that new LV collection, so there must be something bothering you.”

Sighing, hating that the girl knows you so well– that, or you’re being awfully obvious– you roll your eyes in annoyance and try to shrug the topic off. “It’s nothing, I’m fine.”

“Well, that’s obviously a lie. Is it something with Chenle? You two are usually all over each other, so–”

“It’s not about Chenle,” you snap, cutting the poor girl off, “so drop it.”

“Did he say something stupid? I know my cousin, come on. I can slap some sense into him, sweetheart, just let me know–”

“Please let it be,” you insist, tone of voice almost a little too sharp for your own liking, but it seemingly does its job as your friend only shrugs and takes a sip out of the coffee you all bought when getting to the mall, catching up to the men a few steps in front of you, talking about basketball.

“Well, if you need to talk to anyone about it, you know where to find me,” she says, and joins the discourse with her cousin and the boy she’s been teasing for whatever reason for the last few weeks instead, leaving you to trail behind them like a lost puppy, deep in your thoughts.

It’s been a few weeks since you last talked to Chenle. He tried reaching out to you a few times, sending you texts to ask what you’re doing that day to see if you wanna hang out. It seemed that at first, he didn’t really understand that he upset you. After you continued to ignore him even on graduation day, only greeting him and sparing him a few words, he seemed to get the memo as he let you deal with your emotions by yourself instead. You were never given an apology– and truthfully, knowing Chenle, you didn’t even expect to get one in the first place. But still, it’s been bugging you and you couldn’t get his words out of your brain, because you know you can’t do anything about them– if this is the image he has of you, the opinion he created, you don’t think you can talk it out with him in the first place.

“Everything okay back there?” Chenle asks, looking behind at you. His eyes are big and honest, and you find yourself nodding to his caring question. Sparing him a word seems like too much effort right now, and so when he offers you a tight-lipped smile, you don’t have enough energy to reciprocate it.

“Princess Yizhuo here has sore feet, so we are calling it a day. You wanted anything from the mall? I can stay behind with you and go get it,” he continues, his words jabbing into you only reminding you more of the days you spent ignoring him. Realistically, he should be mad at you for it– maybe you even wanted that to happen so he would ignore you instead, giving you the silent treatment, but this is your childhood friend Zhong Chenle we’re talking about. He talks too much in situations where he should shut up instead, and that’s exactly what’s happening in this very moment as well.

“I’m good,” you note, shrugging as you throw the empty coffee cup into one of the bins on your way, your small group now escaping the mall and getting to the parking lot.

Walking towards Chenle’s Zenvo TS1 parked in the corner of the parking lot, you hear the chatter of the group resonating in your ears, not really engaging in the conversation yourself, but choosing to listen to feel included anyway. It’s not their fault that you’re not in the mood, and frankly, you’re glad they even invited you to the outing in the first place. Everything’s better than being left out in your books, even if it means forcing yourself into social interaction. 

“My driver should be here any minute,” Yizhuo smiles, waving at Renjun currently getting into his Porsche Cayenne that he got after you all arrived from his birthday trip to Korea. Watching the boy drive off– while listening to Chenle bitching about his driving (he does have a point though, the poor boy almost crashed into a pole on his way out) – you feel a nudge to your elbow, making you turn to your friend.

“Wanna get back with me, neighbor?” he asks, eyebrows raised in question. 

In any other circumstance, you wouldn’t miss a heartbeat before answering. But now, you ponder on the question for a bit– you got to the mall with Yizhuo, having hanged out with her at her place before– but now that she’s getting a drive home, there was no use in you tagging along with her, since you live quite far from her house. Getting a drive home from Chenle is the most logical solution, after all, and that’s why you find yourself nodding.

Jumping to the passenger’s seat, waving at Yizhuo still waiting for her driver to get there– it should take only about 5 more minutes, with the speed her driver can get to when called– you silently gaze out of the window on your way back, not sparing the boy next to you a glance. He seems to not mind, carefully taking turns and waiting at the stop signs and red lights on his way to your neighborhood, humming along under his breath to the songs on the radio instead to fill the silence. You spend the ride chewing on your cheek, nerves eating you up from inside just at the sheer fact of being in his close proximity again, yet still being so painfully hurt at the feelings he expressed the last time you hung out one-on-one.

His car smoothly gets to the parts of the town that feel more rich– houses growing bigger in size, the gates taller in the sky and the lawns mowed more carefully, with more fancy bushes in the yards and pure-blood dogs running around in front of the gates. After a few minutes, your neighborhood appears in front of your eyes, his car driving past your house and into the Zhong property instead, making you furrow your brows in confusion and annoyance.

“You could’ve just stopped in front of my house so I could get out, you know,” you hum, sighing when he turns the engine off. 

“I was thinking we could hang out over at ours for a sec,” he shrugs, turning his face to you with a hopeful glint in his eye, which you dismiss with an annoyed huff and a roll of your eyes, reaching towards the door handle to get out and walk over to your house instead. 

“Come on, Y/N,” he calls for you, “are you still mad?”

“No,” you snicker, shrugging as you move towards the front gates, his figure quickly catching up to you as he grabs your wrist, halting you in your movements.

“I’m sorry. Let me make it out to you?” he mumbles, looking at you with eyes big and deep like honey, and suddenly, you’re a putty under his touch– just like always, you cave in– as you sigh, following him inside. You don’t miss the victorious pep in his step as he leads you inside, his hand still in contact with your arm, only letting go when you get to his room and he leads you to sit on his bed.

“Wanna play something?” he asks, thrusting a PS5 controller into your hands, not really leaving you much room for disapproval. Grunting and rolling your eyes at him, you watch as he opens up It takes two, your characters running around the split screen trying to figure out the way around.

The silence between the two of you is cruciating, suffocating, even, as neither of you have enough courage to open up the topic again. Tugging at your bottom lip, biting off the dry skin up to the point it bleeds, you sigh and turn to the boy again, putting the controller down. “Is this your way of making it up to me?” you ask.

Cocking his head to you, he shrugs. “I mean, I had a different idea, but that’s up for a discussion…” he mutters, the suggestion of his words making you roll your eyes at him, in disbelief of the fact that he still has the audacity to tease when he knows you’re clearly upset with him.

“Okay, I’m… really sorry, okay?” he says when he registers your mood, sighing to himself and running a hand through his hair. “I kinda fucked up, and I realise that. I didn’t mean to imply that you’re stupid, or anything– come on, I always cheated off you on exams, after all– so, I just- it came off wrong, is what I’m tryna say,” he concludes, looking at you hopefully, his face seemingly in tune with the words coming out of his mouth.

Humming, you shrug, not really knowing what to say. The apology settles a little in you, noting that at least he acknowledged that he fucked up, and so you pick up the controller again and avert your gaze from him. Seeing as his character refuses to move, you look at him from the corner of your eye, raising your brows in question.

“So you forgive me?” he asks, licking his lips in nerves– the action making your eyes travel down to the plump rosiness, involuntarily following his action. His glistening mouth has your gaze wandering around his body, eyes focusing on things you’ve been purposefully ignoring the whole day– the way his forearms show off in his short-sleeved shirt, the way his hair is parted in a way that shows his forehead in the most strangely attractive ways, and also the ever-so casual demeanor of the male. Chuckling to yourself, you shrug, taunting him.

“I dunno,” you mumble, “how can you make it up to me?”

And again, Chenle gets the hint– he’s not stupid, after all. 

Slowly lounging himself towards you, making you drop the controller to his sheets, you close your eyes in expectancy of his touch, already so used to the rhythm of his lips against yours. His hand holds your jaw in place, firm kisses pressed to your yearning mouth, you try to remember the way his touch feels– just in case you have to give it up soon again– a selfish action of your body as you thread your fingers through his hair. 

Lips ghosting over yours, he snickers against them as he speaks. “You taste of blood,” he notes.

“Shut up,” you mutter, taking matters into your own hands as you lock yourself to him again, pressing shaky, hurried kisses to his lips. 

He finds a better place to attach them to, though, as he gently pushes you towards his mattress into a lying position, traveling towards your jaw and your neck. His touch never stays long enough to leave a mark– at least not in places visible for everyone to see, saving you a lot of explaining to your parents and your friends– but the kisses still leave you breathless and yearning for more, hands traveling down his back and humming in pleasure.

“Missed this,” he speaks against your skin, breathless, “so much.”

“Missed my body or me?” you ask, a hint of bitterness on your tongue.

“A bit of both,” he smirks, gently sucking on the skin of your collarbone, leaving you to squirm under the feathery touch. Hands traveling up under your shirt, his fingers trailing across your belly and the curve of your hip, you’re left shivering under the contrast of the heated atmosphere and his stone-cold hands, giggling when he presses an unusually sweet kiss to your cheek in between the more risky ones.

“And which one did you miss more?” you tease, locking eyes with him as he hovers over your body, plopped up by an arm on either side of your head.

His eyes glimmer as he stares you down, cocking his head to the side. “I miss when you didn’t talk,” he says, leaning down again and taking your breath away with a kiss, a displeased grunt meeting his lips as you disapprove of his snarky comment.

In the sheer second where you two break away for air, his hands undress your top, leaving you under him just in your underwear, a position you two have found yourselves in a number of times before. Still, it leaves you shy away under his hungry eyes, only relaxing again when his raven locks tickle the underside of your jaw, lips attaching to every inch of your now exposed body, not afraid of bruising the skin you always keep covered, out of everyone’s eyes. Sometimes, you yearn for him to plant a lovebite to your jaw, to the juncture of your shoulder and your neck, wanting to show them off to everyone and claim the boy as yours– you know you don’t have that power, though, when Zhong Chenle will never be yours and the bruises of desire are always hidden away from everyone, like a dirty little secret; much like what you two have going on in the first place anyway.

“You know,” he mutters against your skin, in between the kisses that have now grown lazier, “I was starting to get a little crazy when you ignored me. That was a first,” he says.

Snickering, hands once again finding their place in his locks, you shrug. “Was the first time you deserved it.”

“Does my opinion really matter to you that much?” he asks, chuckling as he presses another kiss to your skin, to a place a few inches below your collarbone.

“We’ve been friends forever,” you say, “‘course it does.”

“Well, then you should’ve known that as your friend,” he huffs, lips pressed against your skin, “‘m not looking down on you.”

Humming, you let him work his magic as his lazy kisses inch closer to the fabric of your bra, his other hand playing with the fabric of it, twirling the little bow in between your breasts in his fingers as he leans on one of his plopped-up hands, looking at you from the side. 

“Guess I was just more curious about what you wanted to do after school, y’know,” you say, the conversation flowing despite his hands all over you, “before you called me a nepo baby, of course.”

He chuckles at your remark, rolling his eyes at you as his finger trails up your side, your skin growing goosebumps under his touch. “Dunno yet. Why do you care?”

“Wanted to see how far we’re gonna be,” you say, the moment suddenly growing more intimate. The relationship you two have was never inclusive– you two had sex sometimes, sure, but you never once told each other this was more than that. You two were just mere fuck buddies, childhood friends that found sexual attraction in each other somewhere along the way, and while that was enough for you for a while, you found yourself growing anxious of the fact that he was never going to be fully yours. And with the growing anxiety– the smallest remainder of your worries that overtake you in the middle of the night sometimes– your throat closes up on itself when you choke out the next words. “Wanted to see how much time we have left together.”

His hand settles on your hip, his eyes bearing into yours with a newly found heaviness in them. Furrowing his brows, he licks his lips in nerves before speaking up. “Well, I’ll always be your neighbor, so you can find me when you come back. Unless we move, y’know…” he jokes, an airy laugh coming out his lungs that doesn’t meet the expected intention of easing the situation.

You chuckle– but there’s not a hint of lightheartedness in the gesture, quite the opposite, really– as you avert your gaze from him, your head lollying to the side when you try to hide your slowly, but surely growing red eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”

The hand on your hip squeezes the skin under it, his figure now fully hovering over you again, eyes desperately wanting to meet yours. A finger gently pressed to your chin makes you turn your head back forward, his worried gaze bearing into you, and for a moment, you two only stare into each other’s eyes, frozen in time. 

And again, Zhong Chenle isn’t stupid. 

But for a second, he acts like he is. 

“What are you talking about?” he chuckles. “You’re scaring me.”

And when you don’t give him an answer, but instead chew on the inside of your cheek– another place to bleed after you bite down too hard from the nerves crushing you from the inside– he seems to finally get the hint, an airy laugh full of disbelief meeting your ears. Having figured it out, still, he speaks it into existence– as if he needed a confirmation; 8 words tormentingly escaping from between his swollen lips.

“You don’t have feelings for me, do you?”

Sniffling, you shut your eyes close at the question, your silence a clear answer to your childhood friend as he peels himself off you, the feeling of cold air on your exposed skin like a painful slap to reality. You stay like that for some time, mentally counting seconds, each hammer of your heart in your chest like a threat to your existence. Finally, the silence is broken by a determined, yet a little weak sentence coming out of Chenle’s mouth.

“I think you have to leave.” 

Numb, you follow the orders.

July 25, 2020 – Ning Yizhuo’s room, Shanghai, 6:11 PM

“So I was right all along?” Yizhuo snickers, eating from the bowl of almonds she has settled in the free space between her lap and her crossed legs, staring at you with the hydrating sheet mask on her face. You heave out a sigh at her comment, rolling your eyes as you fall back into her soft mattress, shaking your head in disbelief.

“That’s all you got from this conversation?” 

“Almost,” she mumbles, but nudges you with her foot right after, “I’m joking. I was listening, I’m just… shocked that I was actually right and that you were fucking my cousin all along.”

“Yeah, well, that’s not happening anymore, so you don’t have to be disturbed,” you grunt, wondering why you actually told the girl in the first place, regretting the decision perhaps the most right now. Yes, she did bug you for the last few weeks about the reasoning behind your attitude, and the fact that you refused all the invitations to hang out with your friends in fear of seeing Chenle were starting to get a bit suspicious, so you figured you can’t hide it anymore and that Yizhuo was bound to find out either way sooner or later. And still, you think you needed a bit of girl advice too.

“‘m not disturbed,” she mumbles, voice suddenly considerate, “I just- the whole situation is all kinds of weird and fucked up right now.”

“Tell me about it,” you chuckle, the bitter taste on your tongue never leaving despite trying to drown your sorrow down in sweets. “I fucked it up, Yizhuo.”

“Now, that’s just not true,” she sighs, putting the bowl of almonds to her coffee table and laying next to you, reaching for your hand and swinging it around in failed acts of encouragement and affection. “It’s not your fault he freaked out and made it weird.”

“I made it weird!” you mourn, breaking away from her grasp and dragging your hands through your hair in frustration, the feelings bundling in your stomach making you feel like acid is just bound to shoot out of the crevices of your insides, throwing up from the stress and despair. “I’m moving across the world the next month and I won’t see any of you for a long time, since Jun is moving to Korea and you’re gonna work in your parent’s company as well as going to uni here, and instead of spending the last moments of summer break together, I fucked it up and made everything weird and awkward just because I had to fall in love with my childhood best friend. While we’d been fucking. Isn’t that fucking great?” you huff, closing your eyes shut with the tears threatening to fall down your cheeks at your own words falling from between your lips.

“We are spending time together right now, though,” Yizhuo tries to cheer you up, her pout heard in her tone.

“There are millions of different ways you’d love to spend your time with me instead of moping because of your cousin,” you note, sighing, “and I don’t even fucking know what he’s gonna do after summer break, and now, I won’t get to know.”

Yizhuo grows quiet next to you, suggesting the thickening atmosphere. Turning on your side to see your friend with her eyes glued to your figure, you chew on the inside of your cheek. She sighs, preparing herself for the mental tangent she’s gonna bring you on, and reaches over to smooth down your messy hair. 

“You know, Chenle never really liked… this life,” she says, shrugging, “he hates shopping, he hates hearing about investing, he hated traveling so much when you and your family didn’t tag along… At every family reunion, he just hid away in his room and never got out, because he found the whole situation snobby and fake and all those adjectives I’ve never really thought about calling my own relatives. He… he…” she licks her lips, trying to come up with the right words to say, “he sees the world around us with different eyes, and I don’t think he’s happy with it. So don’t- don’t be mad at him for not really… going anywhere with it, okay?” 

Furrowing your brows at her, you shake your head in confusion. This is perhaps the first time you really realized Chenle’s view on things– it’s not like you haven’t heard his annoyed rants about all the prestige and over-the-top lifestyle you all have, but that’s all you thought it was. Annoyance– because at the end of the day, your life is comfortable. You wouldn’t want it any other way. If money moves the world around, you were the one walking through every hallway, all opportunities opened up in front of your eyes; and you don’t think you’d enjoy your life more if you had a bit less money. Chenle, on the other hand, seems to be quite the opposite. His joy is not determined by money, and for the first time in your life, it seems like you’re getting what he’s been talking about your whole life, the words you heard but never truly listened to. It was right in front of you the whole time, but you never saw it, and now that your eyes have been opened, you find it hard to deal with the revelation.

“But what is he going to do?” you gurgle out, confused. 

“I don’t think he knows either,” Yizhuo shrugs, “he’s… figuring out things, I suppose.”

Chuckling, you shut your eyes in despair, thinking for a bit, but still failing to grasp the situation. “I don’t get it. He- he could have everything, but he’s just… throwing everything away? He could move across the world, he could start his own company, he could buy a house or work or study, but he just won’t,” you ramble, “I don’t get it.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Yizhuo shrugs, “but he sees it a different way.”

Laying flat on your back, eyes glued to the ceiling, your friend clears her throat and awkwardly shuffles around her sheets. “And at the end of the day, even though you’ve been friends for forever, I think you’re just in love with the version of him that you’ve created in your head. The version that you’re trying, but cannot fix,” she notes, pausing for a moment before proceeding,  “the only person you can fix is yourself.”

And maybe, Yizhuo’s right. Maybe you fell in love with the Chenle in his sports car, Chenle in the golf cart with his designer clothes on, Chenle on the cruise ship sipping on expensive alcohol. Maybe you fell in love with the version that has the whole world in the palm of his hand, the version of him that goes to Yale with you and rents out a luxurious apartment in the middle of the city, kissing you behind the tall windows, watching over the busy streets– the version in your dreams, the version you wanted to achieve.

But what about the version of him that walked you to your house after tennis class? What about the version of him that cuddled you in his sheets, the version of him that fell asleep soundly when you played with his hair, cradled your fingers through his scalp? What about the version of him that scared you in the dark, because he knew you get creeped out too easily, the version of him that ate cheap sausage with you in Japan, the version of him that studied with you and brought you to your bed when you fell asleep at the table? What about the version of him that cried to Disney movies with you, the version of him that danced with you to the tunes of One Direction in your room when you were sixteen, the version of him that threw rocks on your window in the moonlight the night you turned seventeen, wanting to be the first one to wish you happy birthday before slipping inside of your room in the middle of the night, only to fall asleep seconds later, huddling your sheets?

Did you make that up? Was that not him in the first place?

And maybe, there is a discrepancy between the dream you’ve made up in your head with him, the idea of you two staying together, trying to fix the view he has on the world you two live in, but at the end of the day, none of it was a lie. 

And maybe, Yizhuo’s right; you should change the way you view things to match Chenle’s better, because at the end of the day, maybe you’re the one too blinded by the gold and silver around your neck to see the real issue here.

August 2, 2020 – Lehai Villas, Baicheng, China, 10:15 PM

When you finally see Zhong Chenle after the night he kicked you out of his bedroom, both of you are a mess. 

You’re a mess in the more subtle sense. Your dress is neat, the jewelry on your neck was carefully picked out days before, the heels enveloping your feet are one of the most comfortable ones for you to walk in, since you prepared yourself for being on your feet the whole evening. Your makeup is fixed on your face, earrings dangling off your ears and your purse matches the outfit perfectly; your hair in a fancy updo that you even drove to a hairdresser for, all so that you could look flawless for another one of your parent’s gatherings. Their business partner’s son is turning 21, and while it doesn’t look like that big of a deal, they are celebrating the fact that Mark Lee is now one of the shareholders of their company– and in your world, this is the most moving moment of the child’s life.

You’re a mess in the more subtle sense– you keep looking around, restless, not really paying attention to anything anyone is saying. Aimlessly humming and picking at the skin of your cuticles, you try hard to both catch a glance of your friend, and to also avoid him at all costs. The reality that Zhong Chenle is a mess too hits you only when you finally see him– his tie loose on his neck, a grunt escaping his throat that you can hear from all the way to where you are, his walking a little wobbly and his hair messy as he runs his hand through the sprayed-down locks, his composure disheveled and so obviously out of the place.

And you want to stay away, you really do– to let him deal with his own things by himself, to pretend you weren’t cautiously looking for him all evening– but when he picks up another glass of alcohol from one of the tables and downs it in one go, cheeks getting rosier by the minute, you wonder how far you can let him go until he gets into trouble with his parents; and suddenly, you’re on your feet, just like you expected, dragging your figure closer to the one you’ve been trying to avoid.

“Don’t you think you’ve drunk enough?” you mumble when you appear behind him, his shoulders slouching at the tone of your voice. When he looks around and catches your eyes, he snickers to himself, shrugging, before he makes a face full of disgust at your remark.

“We’re celebrating, aren’t we?” he says, “Mark Lee’s a big man now, taking all the responsibility for a company that’s so great, and he loves the job so much,” he continues, over-exaggerating every word, “and we’re here to celebrate his birthday! Have you… seen the motherfucker anywhere, by the way? Would wanna congratulate him on… the thing…” he trails off, dramatically scratching his head as he speaks the last words.

“Chenle–”

“Right! We are celebrating a guy we don’t even know, or seen the whole evening, but that’s so great, because at least we have all this alcohol–”

“Okay, you’re getting out of here,” you snap, shaking your head at his antics and digging your nails into his forearm, dragging the boy out of the crowded place before he throws a tantrum. With how his voice was getting louder and louder, a few figures turned to watch your exchange, and you can’t imagine the turmoil this will take on him once his parents find out– it’s better to get him out of there before he messes up even more badly.

His feet stumbling on the stairs outside, he mutters something under his breath as you drag his half-limp, half-stubborn body through the enormous land. The gardens are full of fairy lights and adults talking to each other in hushed whispers, laughter erupting out of their put-together figures every now and then, and you take some time before you finally manage to find a silent corner in one of the carefully mowed gardens, Chenle’s complains silencing after a while, admitting his fate.

Carelessly throwing his body towards one of the benches, the lighting dim in the corner, you watch as he takes a seat and looks at you with defeated eyes, the emptiness behind his gaze breaking you on so many levels you didn’t even think you could master; Zhong Chenle is a mess– has been a mess for a while now, and you didn’t notice– you didn’t do anything about it until now.

“What happened to you?!” you yelp out, voice betraying you somewhere towards the end of the sentence, sounding more desperate than you intended. Eyes scanning over his slouching body, you notice him playing with his fingers in his lap, an action of calming himself down that he’s picked up after you slapped his hands every time he tried to bite on his nails growing up, and you take a few steps around the place, running your fingers through your carefully styled hair. 

“Don’t scold me like my mother,” Chenle grunts, rolling his eyes at your composure.

“No, Chenle, because I don’t get it,” you shake your head, looking him dead in the sparkless eyes, “I do not get it.”

When he offers you no explanation, rather just gazing your whole body up and down, eyes half-lidded, you presume he’s a bit out of it– the alcohol truly hitting his system now, making you result in a little tangent of yourself, because you presume everything’s better than his parent’s scolding, and maybe he just needs someone to wake him back to reality. “What happened, Chenle? What the actual fuck is going on lately? You don’t speak to anyone about it, you don’t tell me, out of all people–” a snicker leaves his lips to this, making you huff in frustration, “you don’t tell anyone how you’re feeling, and it’s eating you up from the inside, and believe me when I say, Chenle, it’s pretty damn heartbreaking to watch.”

Looking at him, you’re offered nothing but silence. His cheeks are rosy and puffed up from the alcohol, his frame is small– opposed to the power stance he usually takes– and you don’t think you’re getting a conversation from him any time soon. Ready to give up, you shake your head at him and scoff. “Okay, fine. You don’t have to talk to me, since you have an issue with the fact that I care about you more than I should,” you snap, agreeing to be petty with him, if this was how he was gonna play.

“I don’t talk to any of you, because you wouldn’t understand,” he says, voice almost a bit annoyed, tongue dipped in bitterness. 

“We grew up together, Chenle. Our lives are pretty much the same, why the fuck would you think that I, out of all people, wouldn’t understand?” 

“See, that’s the thing,” Chenle catches you off guard, charming in with an argument barely before you are able to finish the sentence, “our lives are pretty much the same, yet you love it. You fucking love it, all of you do– you love waking up in your little fancy bedrooms, doing great at school because if you don’t, your parents are going to threaten you with disowning you– and what else do you have if not your parents wealth that you coincidentally, also despise at the same time? You go shopping to your favorite mall with your equally wealthy friends, because you’re not allowed to befriend people that are lower class– that would just look fucking embarrassing in front of your parents’ contacts, wouldn’t it? You go to charity events and birthday celebrations of a guy you’ve never seen in your whole life before, just because someone told you to– and don’t you dare tell them you won’t go, because how the fuck are they gonna look all pretty in front of their business partners if their only son doesn’t attend a celebration of someone inheriting a share from their parents’ company– a thing you’re supposed to do as soon as you turn 20, if you don’t attend university they picked out for you instead. You go on fancy holidays and take pictures in front of all the attractions, and it doesn’t even feel special anymore, because you do this every month– and the only time you ever felt alive was when you were drunk and making out with someone that you shouldn’t even think about in that way in the first place, because it’s your parents’ friends’ daughter, and at the end of the day, they would just love the fact that we were together, because that could strengthen the business bond they have– the only reason why they’re friends in the first place, and I’m so fed up, I hate it, I despise it–” he stops to take a breath, his eyes getting glossy,

and suddenly, you’re helpless, you’re falling apart– because the issue is so much bigger than you anticipated and you don’t know how to do anything about it.

“And I don’t fucking feel real, Y/N, I don’t, and I don’t think I ever have, because I just wake up in the mornings and then somewhere along the way, I realise I’m alive and I laugh, because how could all of this be real? How could the money be real? How could anything be real, and– and it’s so confusing, because I should be grateful, but I’m not, because I can’t even fully grasp it,” he breathes, tears now streaking down his cheeks.

It feels like the whole world stopped for a moment; it feels like you are in a movie and someone pressed pause. You stare at him, you blink, and you pray for something to send you strength to deal with this, to tell you what to do or how to comfort him– because this must have felt so alone, and you can’t stand the image of Chenle ever being lonely.

Opening your mouth and closing it, you gasp for air. No words feel suitable for this kind of conversation, and so you just chime towards him– despite all your best assumptions– and hold him. Because at the end of the day, what helps more to ground someone back to earth than human touch?

Pads of your thumbs wipe at the teardrops strolling down his cheeks, every contact with the salty liquid hurting you, cutting through your skin like razor blades– because Chenle never cries, he never feels like something is worth indulging in enough to bring him to tears– and when he catches his trembling bottom lip in his teeth, you break; pulling him towards you and threading your fingers through his hair, the action once lullying him to sleep now used like a broken mantra– please be okay, please relax, please let me hold you until you’re glued back together again.

“I dunno what to do,” he shrugs, his head resting on your stomach, voice burrowing itself into the fabric of your expensive dress, “dunno where to go. ‘Cause Jun’s leaving, and Yizhuo’s gonna be busy with everything, and– and you’re moving across the fucking ocean, and I’m just– I turned everything down, because–” he says, voice breaking, and you shush him with a pat on his back, touch growing more affectionate.

“It’s okay,” you hum, “I got you,” you say; words he once told you at the golf cart, looking after you, or in the hotel room back in Japan when you were 6 and falling asleep, still scared of ghosts appearing in your bedroom– and you believed them, you always did, because Chenle was always there when you needed him– so you only pray he finds comfort in the sincere phrases, because what more is there to offer him?

His breathing grows steadier as you continue to play with his messy hair, his hands gently allowing themselves to wrap around your thighs, your standing figure shelved between his legs, and he laughs to himself, the whole situation kind of ironic to him now. “I don’t even know why I’m crying. ‘m kinda numb, you know, so it doesn’t even really hurt in the first place,” he says, and you wish you found the same humor in it than he did– or at least the bitter sense of soothing yourself with irony– but you can’t. Looking down at his body, latched to you like a lifeline, you wonder how you could ever leave him there alone, to deal with the burden by himself. How could you ever move so far away from him?

“My parents wanted me to go with you,” he starts, the sentence sparking up something inside of you, but he doesn’t pull away and meet your eyes when he continues, foreshadowing a sad ending to your hope, “they said I should study business at Yale as well, that it’s a great opportunity.”

You don’t reply to him, choosing not to push him. After a sigh, he continues. “And I didn’t get in, because, naturally, I was too stupid for it in the first place– no, I was–” he says when you gently slap the back of his head at the comment, “but then they paid the dean and suddenly I was allowed to go. Can you believe that?” he snickers bitterly, shaking his head in disbelief. “Bad mouthed you for a thing I despised in myself, when you were the one that got in fair and square in the first place.”

“‘s okay,” you mumble, compassion dripping off your words.

“And I turned it down, ‘cause I hated the fact that they did that. I was okay with studying the fucking business program, even though I despised it, I was okay with moving across the world, because at least you’d be there, y’know, but I couldn’t bear the fact that they did that to get me in. I think I was too ashamed, too embarrassed, because they had to pay for me to get there, but– I don’t know…” he trails off, and you sigh, shaking your head in disbelief.

“It’s okay to take opportunities that are presented to you, Lele,” you mumble, “I know you hate it, but you can’t change who you’re born to. The best you could do is to not waste all of this,” you say, trying to find a source of light in the deep abyss of his thoughts.

You try hard to solve the problem– to offer him a solution that could work, that could let him forget about the pain for at least a second– to wake him up from whatever deep thinking that got him into this mess. You try hard to solve the problem– but you don’t know how to deal with it. All you know is that you’re trying to pick up the patterns; you’d fit in his skin if you could, you’d crawl in and fix everything– but at the end of the day, as Yizhuo said, the only person you can fix is yourself.

“Bought,” he says, fixing your mistake, “opportunities that were bought for me. I couldn’t do it,” he says.

Huffing, indulging in a spare second of your own pain– a spare second of the despair eating you up from the insides, the helplessness you’ve been feeling ever since you were forcefully kicked out of Zhong Chenle’s life– and you didn’t even tell him you loved him in the first place before he got stuck in the fire of the woods; before you two started acting like it didn’t matter and always ended up in feuds– you mumble a comment, voice barely louder than a whisper, but he can hear it because of the closeness of your bodies in the few stray raindrops that come over you two once the clock strikes midnight.

“We could’ve lived together, you and me,” you say, “us against the whole world,” you comment– a childlike yearning spilling out of your lips, “we could’ve gone to Yale together and you’d figure something out along the way. Maybe– maybe you’d find a purpose if you moved, we could–”

“Y/N,” he shushes you, uttering out your name, finally breaking away from you as he looks up and gazes into the swimming pools of your eyes, shaking his head with a faint smile, “‘s okay. It wouldn’t have fixed anything anyway, it– it wouldn’t have helped.”

“But–”

“You can move, Y/N, but at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter, ‘cause you’re taking yourself with you.”

August 20, 2020 – the backyard of your childhood house, Shanghai, 11:11 PM

You were never really that good at science– sure, your parents demanded you get good grades in every subject and your private school put quite the pressure on your education, but even though you always managed to pull satisfactory marks in exams, your understanding of the logistics sometimes lacked; you were much better at humanities or business-related courses, hearing enough at family dinners to find out your way through the lectures and apply the facts into examples from real life.

So, if anyone asked you how many stars there were in the universe, you wouldn’t be too confident in your answer. You wouldn’t know how to apply the Milky Way as your model– since it was said that it has around 100 billion stars alone– and multiply the part by the amount of galaxies in the universe– approximately 2 trillion– to get a number somewhere close to 200 billion trillion, also called 200 sextillion. 

You wouldn’t know how to do any of that, or how to even count this amount without a calculator, so you’d take a more liberal arts approach– literary, even– and say, that on August 20, 2020, at 11:11 sharp in your backyard, gazing on to the deep, dark sky and wishing for a star to fall so you could propose a selfish wish that could change everything, there’s still not more stars there than in Zhong Chenle’s eyes when your gazes meet after your friends leave for the evening, leaving you with your neighbor completely alone.

And it’s strange, seeing him like this– maybe because you didn’t even realize how used to the dull and emotionless Chenle you’ve been all this time– but it warms something inside of your heart as you take a hesitant step towards him, the first one out of the whole evening, and take a seat next to him in the corner of your terrace, sighing to yourself.

“You actually came,” you note, seeing as he turns to you and furrows his eyebrows at you in confusion.

“Should I not have? I mean, by the text you sent me, it seemed like you wanted me here, but if I misread the situation, I can go…” he snickers, teasing you just the slightest as he nudges you to your side.

You hum, shaking your head in disapproval. “No,” you say, “I just… I dunno.”

“Expected me to ignore you?” 

“Kinda,” you admit, snickering.

“Damn,” he giggles, “that’s fair, though. Considering the previous events, and all.”

Rolling your eyes at his composure, finally getting used to the old Chenle– the one that teases you over the smallest things, the one who doesn’t let his emotions show in his face– you watch him as he takes a seat on one of the rattan sofas and you follow him, body slouching next to his, feeling his head gently rest on your shoulder in the mere moment of silence between your two figures.

“Wouldn’t let you leave without seeing you for the last time,” he says, voice quiet and vulnerable, “god knows when I’ll see you again.”

“Chenle–”

“Just because you don’t want to talk about it doesn’t mean it’s not real,” he snickers, already knowing where your words are going– you’re going to try to stop him, tell him you don’t want to think about it right now, on the last evening at your house for the near future. 

“I’d rather not think about that, y’know,” you huff, frustrated. The anxieties of leaving everything behind are clenching on your insides right now, holding you back from moving freely and with enthusiasm, and you wonder– if you knew how this would feel all those months ago– if you knew how terrifying and painful the whole process could be, would you still apply to Yale? Would you still want to go?

“Okay,” he dotes, tone of voice casual, like it’s not a big deal. 

“Okay? Just like that?” you snicker, surprised at how easily he gave the topic up.

“Yeah. Don’t wanna make you sadder.”

Sitting in silence, you realize there’s so many words you’d like to say to him. You’d like to tell him just how much you’re gonna miss him and how you regret ruining the last few months you two had together, and how you’re sorry your feelings scared him to the point where he felt like he had no one to confide in. You’d like to tell him how you built a future with him in your brain, carefully placed him into your reality, only for him to break away from your grasp and go his own way, and how much it hurts, but how you’re always going to support him in whatever he chooses, because you care for him more than your little heart could take. You’d like to tell him how you’re gonna call him every day to check up on him, how you’re gonna send letters and press a secret kiss to each sheet of expensive paper you’ll get downtown, wishing he could feel the essence with the growing distance between you two. You’d like to ask him to visit you often– he’s gonna have more time on his hands, and god knows money’s not the issue. You’d like to selfishly tell him you find it hard to deal with the distance, and how you wish he wouldn’t find somebody else while you’re gone, and how you so dearly hope that somewhere in there, your feelings are silently reciprocated, but hidden away in fear of everything falling apart once again.

But instead, you don’t say anything. You tend to wait for him to speak up first– he’s always had a problem with talking too much in the first place, after all.

And he does– you can still predict his next moves. You know him that well.

“I’m gonna miss you, though,” he sighs, catching you off guard by saying something from the list of your silenced words, “don’t think that I won’t. Or that the way I’ll miss you is different than the way you’re gonna miss me,” he speaks, tone of voice laced in honesty and sincerity, his words heavy with the essence of what he’s never going to say out loud– or so you think.

“In what way?”

“I’m not gonna miss you like a friend misses a friend,” he says, “and I don’t mean the sex,” he snickers, brightening the mood with his comment.

Rolling his eyes at him, you feel him lift his head up from your shoulder, forcing you to look at him and meet his starry eyes again– the damn starry eyes that always make you spill the truth, because god knows you cannot lie to him– and you find yourself scanning his features, the structure of his bones you fear you’re gonna forget when you’re away, so desperately wanting to lock your lips with his for one last time, because when you come back one day, you may not have the right or chance to do so anymore. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks, not a hint of teasing in his voice.

“You know why, Chenle.”

“Can you say it out loud?” he demands, and you shake your head– maybe it's best if the words are left unsaid. Doesn’t matter if they’re hanging in the air, for everyone to read.

“Why?”

“You know how I feel about you,” you snicker, “don’t make me say it out loud.”

Because even if you told him you loved him, it wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t make it all better, it wouldn’t make it all good– no matter how hard you wish that it would. 

“Okay,” he nods, agreeing too fast again– and with that, he smiles, the gesture so soft and sudden, and there you are– you’ve got a caving heart in your open arms, and Chenle takes it, carelessly choking out the hushed confession, “I’m in love with you. If you don’t say it, I’m gonna, because… you deserve to know.”

Heart sinking into your stomach, you watch him, frozen in your place, for a while. Your eyes carefully scan every curve of his face– the curve of his lips, the curve of his cheeks, the hood of his eyes, his brows, the thousand stolen galaxies in his orbs and mouth glistening like honey, inviting you in. Snickering under your breath, you choose to not give in to the temptation.

“You’re only saying that because I’m leaving tomorrow,” you say, shaking your head. 

“Maybe,” he agrees.

And you know that– you know that if you weren’t leaving, he wouldn’t tell you that he loves you. He wouldn’t allow himself to be this vulnerable, he wouldn’t tell you how he feels about you, because he had all this time– all those months and weeks spent with you in his bed, and you know his touches weren’t just shallow desire– and he never once said anything. He didn’t do anything about it, and now that there is nothing more to do about it, nothing that could change the trajectory of either of your lives, he chooses to speak it to the universe; because it doesn’t change anything, it can’t possibly do so– and so he doesn’t have to fear the consequences, he doesn’t have to fear the attachment that comes with such confession.

And for a minute, you think it’s selfish. You think it’s laughable, ironic, even, but you accept it. 

His hand reaches for yours, interlocking your fingers with his when he launches you forward into him, arms gently enveloping your body when your head settles itself to the curve of his shoulder. You stay like this for a while, in his hold again, breathing in his scent and trying to remember it for weeks and months before you’re able to smell it again, letting out a nosy question out of your lips– and truly, you don’t know why you do so, when you know the answer to it already anyway. Maybe you just want to hear it again.

“So… you do have feelings for me too, after all?”

He stays quiet for a while, before he softly laughs into your hair. “Yeah,” he nods, “but it doesn’t matter, ‘cause you’re leaving for Yale tomorrow, aren’t you?”

And he’s right– you are. Thinking for a while, feeling him place a shy peck to the crown of your head– the only kiss you two allow yourselves at this point of time– you come to the conclusion that  even though you love him, care for him like you’ve never cared for another before, you wouldn’t change a thing about your plan– wouldn’t change the trajectory of your whole life, wouldn't stay in Shanghai, wouldn’t drop out of university, wouldn’t stop everything because of him, because in a way, you strangely have it all figured out. 

And he doesn’t.

And you pray that one day, he’ll find the purpose in all the potential he holds in his hands.

[mrkerina]

Sweet narcissism 𓍼 Na Jaemin

— (idol au) in which he makes another photo exhibition but this time, it’s dedicated to you.

Pairing — Na Jaemin (nct) x fem!reader

Word count — 2316

Content — you were never one to take photos of yourself so Jaemin did it all for you. He loves it, candid or not, he thought that you looked ethereal and wanted to show it off to the whole world.

M.list + Author’s note — yums this random idea popped into my head right when I was struggling to think of a plot! Though, I'm not sure if the execution is satisfactory, but anyways happy reading!

Liked by the_and.y, onyourm_ark and others

na.jaemin0813 Exhibition 2: sweet narcissism out on 12/10 — “Pictures from me, of you.”

View all 41,928 comments

jaenthusiast no bc wtf is this HARD ass launch? I’ve never seen anything like it

dongyuckss @jaenthusiast no fr like he came out of nowhere and decided to tell the world about his girl 😭 such a jaemin thing to do though

lomljaem what about me?? I’m unstanning 💀

jaenthusiast @lomljaem fam as if you had a chance in the first place, good riddance.

sungcultt I just know he treats her so right I can’t wait to see his descriptions to her pictures omg

Throughout the course of your friendship and later, relationship, Jaemin had always been the one who was there by your side. Whether it is snapping pictures of you, or simply basking in your presence, he was simply, undoubtedly, all-consumingly, in love with you.

From the slight crinkling of your eyes when you smile to the way your eyes seemed to sparkle in the light when you got excited, it was all the little things that made Jaemin fall for you, and hard. His hands always itches when he is with you, the urge to simply capture your beauty and turn the memory of you into something tangible — a photograph.

And that was the whole reason why it had even started, from the beginning when you told him that you didn’t really like to be in the camera in all the glitz and glamour. It seemed ironic that you ended up dating him, an idol, whose job is to be in front of a camera day in and day out.

However, in all of fate’s unpredictable and sly ways, you two eventually did fall for each other. With Jaemin capturing every essence of your dynamic, from when you first met to where you two were now.

Despite your incessant whining and excessive shyness whenever he held out a camera and signaled for you to pose, you still continued complying to his demands. A timid, small smile with your middle and index finger raised. It was basic, but you didn’t know anything else. Yet, no matter what, Jaemin still admires the picture with a lovesick grin after, claiming that you looked so “out of this world” to him.

Unknowingly, it progressed into an obsessive habit for him, or hobby. Wherever the two of you went, he’d always have something in hand to take pictures of you, albeit his phone or a full-blown professional camera. It gradually became his thing, snapping a picture whenever his hands were itching for it, candid or not, it was always perfect in his eyes, simply because it was you.

In all honesty, every single photo was equally treasured by the boy. The more he took, the greedier he got. It felt like such a pressing need to snap shots of you, it was one of the ways he showed his affection. And amidst all that, he grew the desire to show it all off to the world — the girl who belonged to him. After tireless fights and arguments with his company, they finally gave in.

That’s how the second part of his photo exhibition came about, “sweet narcissism” as he would call it.

“Seriously Jaem, you didn’t have to do so much for me just for my birthday, it’s literally still a whole month away,” you spoke as you let him lead the way with a blindfold shielding your vision. “Where are we even going anyways?”

A chuckle slipped past his lips, hushing you whilst his hand gently rested on the curve of your back, guiding you to enter the exhibit. The cool breeze of the air conditioner was the first thing you felt when you stepped in, followed by the muffled footsteps of Jaemin scrambling around. 

“You aren’t selling me to someone are you?” You joked as you stood there, self-conscious until a crisp, mechanical “click” sounded. The sound you were all too familiar with. “Are you seriously taking a picture of me right now? With a blindfold? That’s kinda kinky,” you exasperated. 

“You just look too cute you know,” he answered, a lightness to his tone. “Are you ready? You are going to be shocked, surprised, mind-blown, lost for words and-” he got cut off by your low grumble, hurrying him to just go along with it. “You’re no fun,” he sulked as he undid the knot of the blindfold.

You blinked your eyes, adjusting to the glaring lights that seemed to become brighter from being reflected by the pale white walls. Running a hand through your hair to tidy it up, you squint your eyes as you tried to figure out what was going on. He grasped your wrist, extending your palm out before placing an audio device in your hand with a set of earpieces attached to it. 

The moment it hit you, your shock was palpable, eyes trailing over the entire space in pure wonder. Your hand squeezing the device, a quiet excitement consumed you as you walked closer to look at the pictures hung on the walls and frames sprawled out neatly on the table. “I didn’t know you took this many pictures of me,” you mused, hand grazing the corner of the frame delicately. 

“Here you should listen to the audio while you look,” he stepped forward, untangling the earpiece. His finger gently tucking your hair behind your ear before placing the earpiece into your ear. A small dash of pink tinted your ears, lips curving up in appreciation.

Jaemin had a soft smile plastered on his face as he quietly watched you by the side, following you in anticipation of your reaction. “I like taking pictures of you, you’re really pretty,” he murmured before pointing towards one of the pictures as if to prove his point. “Look, you’re so carefree and smiley that it makes you look alluring,” he referred to one of the many candid shots.

“You’re exaggerating,” you dismissed as you continued to admire his work while listening to his deep, smooth voice that seemed to engulf all your senses – seeing and hearing everything from his perspective. He definitely had a knack at it, each picture felt like it had a purpose, filled with an overwhelming affection he had for you. Each picture held a story, the short descriptions earnestly spoken through the device, all carefully thought out by the boy. 

“Ohh that one is one of my favourites,” your boyfriend grinned, gesturing to the next picture as you continued on. This one felt more intimate, your hair slightly messy, your tongue stuck out slightly and your brows furrowed in concentration while your hands gripped the pan. One of the rare occasions that you cooked a meal for him. Your eyes trailed over to the details, your heart warming as you listened to the audio that came along with it, a tender smile growing on your face.

Number 12. I remember watching you take care of me after a hard day at work and thinking “wow I’m so lucky to have her as a friend.” And now here you are, as someone more than that.

In another one, you appeared to be looking down at your feet dipped into the water at the beach, a contented look plastered on your face. Behind you, the sun had begun to set and it seemed like he took this secretly, a fair distance away from where you were standing, basking in the serene atmosphere.

Number 16. On one of my rare days off, I took you to the beach, and the way your face lit up with excitement was everything. That smile never faded, not for a second, and in that moment, I made a quiet promise to myself — to do whatever it takes to keep that beautiful smile shining, always.

“I spent a lot of time thinking about what I should say for the descriptions, I just wanted to capture the way I see you, from my point of view,” he explained, a thoughtful expression on his face. You turned around, walking closer to him before wrapping your arms around his waist. Jaemin felt like he couldn’t breathe from the way you looked at him, like he was holding up the moon and stars, your expression brimming with affection and warmth that made his heart full. 

“It’s perfect,” you muttered reassuringly, a shy, thankful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I love you, a lot. I don’t think anyone has done this much for me before, just for my birthday,” you spoke pensively. 

A hint of smugness washed over his face which made you roll your eyes, a light giggle escaping your lips. “I love you more,” he paused, grabbing your wrist and pulling you towards another room. “Anyways, there’s more. This one is a video, this one is just for you and not part of the exhibition which by the way I have to talk about it to you later,” he mumbled the last bit, “okay but first! Sit down and watch this amazing video I’ve put together.”

You sat down compliantly on one of the beanbags while Jaemin walked around to set it up. The longer you waited, the more impatient you got, anticipation bubbling in you for what was to come. The first thing shown on screen was Jaemin sitting in front of the camera with a wide beam plastered across his lips.

“Hello! Haha wait this is kinda awkward,” he scratched the back of his neck, “this video is just a collation of moments we’ve had together. I just wanted you to know that no matter how busy I get with my career, you’re always the one that I’m constantly thinking about. I guess this video is kind of for me to watch whenever I miss you while I’m on tour. Hehe anyways, I hope you enjoy and remember, I’ll always love you, my love.”

The first scene was one of the first few times you two met-up, right after Jaemin had gotten to know that you didn’t really take much pictures. He had grabbed his phone out just to tease you, recording a video with you whining throughout asking him to stop, though not quite convincingly enough. The video slowly progressed from when you two were friends till when you two started dating, every intimate moment captured and compiled into one. 

In another scene, your head was resting on his lap, his fingers that had previously been playing with your hair coming to a halt as he grasped the camera, angling it towards you. Your hair sprawled out across the span of his lap, eyes concentrating on the video you were watching on your phone. 

“No seriously, there was literally no reason for you to do that, why did you do that? Like um now the whole world is going to be fantasising over your abs, I mean at least I’m not alone at it but still imagine- hey are you recording me right now?” you paused your rant, glancing up at him only to see his camera being directly above your face. “Were you even listening?” you glared towards the lens. 

“Mhmm, all I hear is my baby being jealous,” he hummed, chuckling as he watched you sulk, stretching out a hand to cover the camera. “Hey, I was recording for future uses,” he frowned.

And the video ended with that. A sheen of moisture filled your eyes, blinking it back to not let a tear slip out. Jaemin came to your side, pulling you towards him, your head resting on his chest as he leaned back against the wall. He tenderly stroked your hair, fingers running through the strands. “So what do you think?” He queried, smiling down towards you which you reciprocated as you looked back up.

“I love it, the whole exhibition is perfect, impeccable, unmeasurable. It’s like the one you did for the dreamies,” you complimented. Realisation dawned as soon as you said that statement and saw the guilty look on his face. You raised an eyebrow at him, “wait…this is exactly like the one you did for the dreamies. You’re going to open it to the public aren’t you?”

It took a moment before he slowly nodded, a slight timidness washing over him. “I already did everything, it’s mostly for you, showing you off to the public is just a bonus. But that’s only if you are comfortable with it of course, I know you told me before when I casually bring it up as an idea that you wouldn’t mind but I’m asking for real this time,” he tilted his head as his eyes narrowed in on you, to show his seriousness this time. “If you aren’t comfortable with it, it’s really okay. I already showed it all to you and I think that’s enough for me.”

“I don’t mind, I trust you,” you replied simply, hand grasping his as you drew soothing circles on the back of his palm subconsciously. “Would your fans come and harass me though? That’s a really hard launch I can’t lie,” you chuckled. 

“I won’t let anyone touch you, and my company is making sure that nothing happens. Sorry, I’m just greedy to show you off to everyone. Also, did I mention that I’m planning to open it on your birthday, that’s why I’m showing it to you now so that I can get your consent, but seriously, if you don’t want to face all that you don’t have to-” he rambled, an overwhelming sense of pride and endearment made you lift your head up from his lap and give him a quick peck on his lips, cutting him off. “Oh,” his brain malfunctioned as he lost his train of thoughts, not expecting the kiss, though it lasted only for a fleeting moment.

“I told you, I trust you and I really don’t mind. I know it’s your hobby and I know you have an obsession with photos of me,” you reassured, a tinge of slyness to your voice. “I’m only comfortable when it’s you who is taking pictures of me so feel free to continue taking more alright, Jaem?”

He finally got pulled out of his stupor, a shit-eating grin taking over his lips once he processed the green light that you were handing over to him on a silver platter. “Of course. It is my pleasure to be your personal photographer, love.”

[thatsatricky1]

𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐧 | l.jn

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Jeno the sin of Wrath x (f) Reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing, angst, stalking, breaking and entering, obsession, blood, mentions of violence

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: Thriller, angst, no comfort, no fluff

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3,6k

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝: The Red Envelope

The Red card screamed, no demanded to be chosen. Rose petals flicked half hazardly underneath it, the waxed seal having been stamped with force, causing extra wax to be shoved outwards to the right side drying over the envelopes opening. A red silk bow laid on the bottom right corner whether an afterthought or meticulously placed there, it was loud and bold. Who were you not to give in to its demands, that was your card.

It was as if the choice wasn’t really hers, by the way the red envelope practically stared her down, laid on the top centre on her desk. So of course naturally her hand gravitated towards it. Lifting it upwards only for rose petals below the letter to flutter back onto the table.

The bow on the corner slipped off once she pulled the envelope towards herself, it hit the table silently too light to make much of an impact against the table. Though she made no attempt to watch the bow fall too focused on the envelope itself.

The waxed seal was pressed hard into the envelope, no doubt if she tried taking it off, it would rip the envelope badly. So she moved to grab her letter opener instead, sliding the sharp edge underneath one side before easily slicing it right through the top part to reveal what was inside. It would be a shame to ruin that waxed seal, it was a nice looking one.

Pinching the letter from inside and pulling it out she was met with a white letter inside, a stark contrast to the red envelope, but as she gazed down at the hand written words she let out an amused noise, it was written in red ink. Entertained enough by that alone she decided to read it, what was the harm in that.

Dear Y/n,

Picking my letter was the smart choice, it makes this less messier even if I don’t mind getting messy to begin with. Then again you wouldn’t have picked another letter. I won’t even entertain the thought of that. There wasn’t a choice in this like you might think there is. It has always been me, it will always be me that you choose. I’ll see you soon, and a smart choice for you is to let me in, make it easy on yourself that way. Don’t be brat, let me in.

The only one you need,

“What the actual fuck-” her own muttered words cut off as the letter she was reading went up in flames, her fingers releasing the paper as soon as it went alight. Half the page was still on fire as it landed below against her floorboards.

She was never more thankful for forgetting to take off her shoes before as she stomped it downwards against the page until the flames died out, only little bits of the letter remained, the rest in ash against her floor and underneath her shoe.

Her head slowly looked upwards towards her desk, afraid of the other six deciding to go up in flames but she was met with a blank desk, only the rose petals from the envelope she’d opened laid scrawled out against it.

After a tense moment waiting for another chaotic thing to happen, her shoulders finally relaxed downwards. Trying her best to sort her jumbled thoughts into a more structured and calm way.

If this was a prank, it wasn’t funny at all considering the fact she could have accidentally been caught on fire. The mere thought caused her jaw to clench tighter. Walking back over to her desk she grabbed her trash can holding it upwards as she used her other free arm to slide all the rose petals right into it.

Dumping her trash can back underneath her desk she moved to twist a hand through her hair. Every possible thought about the missing letters not making sense, she needed to find a way to make all of this realistic because if she didn’t find a reasonable way for it to have happened, then she was in deep shit.

A loud laugh from outside tore her attention away from her current distress, lips downturned as it made her remember what day it was. October 31st, what was supposed to be a normal Thursday was a fun festive day for others.

Before she could focus back onto what had just happened the sound of her doorbell rang out throughout the house. Slipping her eyes closed for a few seconds to compose herself before leaving her bedroom.

Even if she doesn’t celebrate the Halloween tradition like others, she didn’t want to take that fun away from others. Hence why she grabbed the candy bowl on her kitchen counter before heading towards her front door. No doubt another trick or treater ready for a new round of candy to be added to their growling stashes.

The trick or treaters were a great way she could get her mind off whatever the fuck just happened, maybe this time she’d be able to guess a kids costume right this time. She wasn’t very present in today's present lovable characters for younger children. Her childhood was filled with different characters, perhaps next year she’d know better.

She recalled the last time she’d even remotely tried to dress up for Halloween she’d been Casey from Scream, a slasher horror film that was made in 1996. A classic. One she actually quite liked but the following five films after that in the franchise were nothing like it or at least they weren’t as good. Like most franchises the first movie is generally the best out of all of them, progressively getting worse or repetitive.

Grabbing onto the door handle she pulled it open eyes still on the bowl of candy in her arm noting she’d have to fill it up again soon. She had a couple more bags of candy she could dump into the bowl, certainly enough for another few rounds of trick or treaters, but definitely not enough for leftovers, which she didn’t mind.

“So what are you supposed to be- Jeno?” Her original sentence cut off when she finally looked up only to spot one of her friends standing in front of her outside.

“Trick or treat.” His words tagged along with his iconic crescent shaped eyes when he smiled.

He was dressed up for the weather, sporting his normal outfit you’d see him walking around campus with in autumn. His jacket looked new, clearly a dark leather jacket with a large white cotton collar and with no doubt inner lining meant to help keep the person wearing it warm.

“What are you doing here Jeno?” She questioned, confused and baffled why her friend had shown up to her doorstep, everyone in their friend group knew on Halloween eve she wasn’t available, rather staying inside for the night then going out with the rest of them.

“You didn’t get my letter? I’m pretty sure you read it.” His words came as another, albeit unwanted surprise for her.

“That was you? Asshole, that was not in the slightest bit funny Jeno, you know not to mess around and do that kind of stuff with me.” Y/n scolded out straight away, unamused by the new revelation.

His smile dropped at her words, but his eyes held a knowing look as if he hadn’t expected a different reaction than that. Glancing behind her into her home before his eyes settled back on her fully.

“It wasn’t meant to be funny.” He spoke, tone taking a serious turn.

She couldn’t help the scoff that escaped her, jaw tensing slight, hand tightening against the door handle.

“Yeah, yeah good one Jeno. Drop it, you can’t act scary for the life of you. It’s late so I’m going to shut this down now. We can talk about this tomorrow before our lectures start because I actually am seriously pissed about that whole shit show you decided to try and scare me with.”

Her words held finality in it moving to close the front door in his face, but his foot was faster catching inside the door before it could fulling close. His arm reaching in to shove the wooden frame away enough to look in at her.

“Don’t close the door on me Y/n.”

The pure look set on his face caused her heart to drop down to her stomach, having never seen him like this. It was as if she was looking at a completely different person at that moment. His usually cheerful or lost look robbed away and replaced with a serious one, with a tinge of frustration littering it.

“Let go of my door.” She managed to breathe out, tone no longer loud like beforehand.

Jeno not listening at first, staring her down. It felt as if he was staring straight into her soul, any longer and he might have burned a hole into her head. But just like that he let his signature smile reappear, nodding slowly stepping back from the door.

It did not help, that smile now felt fake with how fast he was able to change it. She couldn’t look away even if she wanted to, not trusting what would happen, not even blinking as she slowly but surely closed the door for good. Only feeling better after sliding the bolt lock on her door, for extra security.

It took Y/n a good few seconds to finally step away from her door, deciding the safest place she felt would be back upstairs in her bedroom.

Jeno stayed at her front door, his mouth and jaw aching with how tight he clenched his teeth, his smile slowly falling from his lips once again as he stared at the door. He should have known better than to think she’d open her door up for him after asking about the letter.

“I warned you to just let me in.” He spoke to himself.

Backing off her porch still watching the door, finally looking away in favour of gazing out at the streets. The trick or treaters started to get few and far between as the night went along. Observing how the ages were climbing, seeing more teens out and about and even a drunk adult here and there.

He needed to blow off some steam first before coming back, and with that thought he went straight for his car while tugging off his new warm jacket, chucking it inside the car on the backseats, hand moving to grab out a slightly clear red raincoat. A questionable choice that wouldn’t help him warm up, and the sky was clear of any clouds.

Y/n thought her night could finally start to come peaceful like originally intended, mind relaxed now that she had an explanation for the stupid prank that had been played on her. Even if she was pissed at Jeno, someone she hadn’t thought would do something like that to her she was definitely going to ask how he’d done that disappearing trick with the other envelopes after a good scolding tomorrow.

She took her time getting ready for bed, putting on a YouTube video on her phone to play while she was in the bathroom going through her much needed skincare routine. With her having enough time she even ran herself a bath, going all out for the night adding in bath salts, a lush bomb she’d gotten from a friend quite a while ago that still worked, and just a tad bit of scented oils.

Moving to switch from watching videos on her phone to playing a relaxing playlist instead while bathing. Letting her eyes dip closed and breathe in the intoxicating scent of warm vanilla sugar wafting in steam against her face. Laying just long enough for her fingertips to start to prune before managing to get out of the now lukewarm bath.

Wrapping a fluffy towel around her wet body, having not gotten her hair or face wet since she’d already done her skincare routine for the night and washed her hair the other day.

She took her time dressing in her night wear, picking out some shorts and matching shirt. Even with the weather getting colder she usually slept with at least two heavy blankets so what she wore to bed didn’t affect her much in terms of getting cold.

Making sure the heating was now turned off in her bathroom she made her way towards her bedroom, feet pattering against the cold wooden floorboards having forgotten to bring a fluffy pair with her, though she’d just go without them tonight. Some nights she slept with socks and other nights she preferred not to. This was one of those nights.

Getting under the covers of her bed, noting she had three blankets, not two, which was not a problem for her. She liked the weight against her body. But would not for the life of her buy a weighted blanket for some reason or another, thinking they cost too much even though her three blankets in itself would have cost around the same amount as one weighted blanket.

Instead of being able to slip into sleep fast like she usually could, she was met with too many thoughts instead. Constantly replaying the night she’d had. How unsettling Jeno had acted towards her even if it had been a brief interaction. The look he’d given her had been engraved into her mind, even after giving her a smile the way his eyes had stared at her had left a bad impression as if to say tonight wasn’t the last she would be seeing him.

Letting out a frustrated breath out her nose she moved to pull her blankets over her face trying to shake away the absurd thoughts. Face heating up straight away from being under the covers, air going thin and was aware of her breathing, only taking a second to tug the blankets back down past her nose so only half her face was covered to be able to get enough air.

It was dark now, since she’d turned off her lamp on her bedside table minutes ago. Her eyes adjusting to the lighting as she stared up at her ceiling, she noted the slight star prints against it. The last people that had owned the home had no doubt had glue in the dark star stickers placed on the ceiling beforehand, only the sticky glue residue left in its wake.

And suddenly out of nowhere a thought popped into her head, she wasn’t sure if she’d locked her back door. She always locked the front and back door every night before going to bed. After a few burglaries happening in nearby neighbourhoods she had taken on the habit not exactly wanting it to happen to herself too.

When she was younger she lived in a community area where no one locked their doors, it was a small enough place that everyone knew everyone. And they didn’t get many people passing through. So no one had felt the need or want to lock their doors, and nothing had happened to anyone there. But now that she lived alone in a completely different area it made sense that she locked the doors at night, she didn’t exactly think a fire would start in her home randomly so it was okay to do.

Just as she was quelling her fear of forgetting to lock the back door, that fear slammed right back into her, swearing she heard a noise downstairs. Her mind racing to think of anything to calm herself down, repeating to herself old houses always made noises.

Even with trying to be realistic she strained her ears to listen, willing her breathing to thin out and become quiet as if it could help her hear better. Her ears picked up another noise, but it was too far away to be able to tell if it had come from a door or was just the creaking of her house.

Instead of going down to check, she did the opposite, reverting to doing what she did as a kid back in the day when she found herself scared at night, she sunk further into her head and pulled the blankets over her head for the second time tonight. Ignoring the immediate heat build up.

Everything became more muffled, yet because of how quiet this time of night was, she could still faintly hear things. Things that usually wouldn’t be given a second thought, was the exact opposite on this night. She couldn’t help but feel paranoid whether from how her day had gone or just in general living alone.

Though all her thoughts about feeling stupid for being so afraid of nothing was replaced when she was certain of what she was hearing. Footsteps heading up her steps, loud enough to make sure whoever was in the house would know of their presence, not trying to be quiet.

She could practically feel her own heart beating against her ribcage as she laid there frozen, her body not moving a muscle. It was as if she could not move, no she dared not move in fear the slightest shift would catch whoever’s attention straight towards her.

And yet even without moving a hair, those footsteps were now in the hallway beelining towards her very own bedroom. It did not matter that she’d been deathly still. No, this person knew exactly where she was, and was coming for her.

Even as her bedroom door creaked open, in need of an oiling sometime soon she didn’t move, she refused to acknowledge what was happening, willing it to disappear. Her wishes would not be granted.

Every step closer, had her pulse racing faster and faster until she thought it might just burst. The footsteps only stopped at the side of her bed. Her eyes squeezing shut underneath the covers, fear gripping her tightly.

Biting hard against her lip to prevent a noise from escaping when she felt something press down against the covers above her hip. Feeling the way it slowly dragged upwards.

Even as she felt her blankets being slowly dragged downwards she refused to open her eyes, keeping the shut as tight as possible causing her nose to stay scrunched. Flinching when she felt cold fingers brush against her cheek.

“Open your eyes.” The hushed whisper coming from above her nearly made her blood freeze.

Just like she’d been asked to do, her eyes opened staring up above her. Not because she wanted to do as the person asked but because it was an all too familiar voice, one she thought she’d gotten rid of for the night.

Standing above her with his head angled down towards her was Jeno. But if she wasn’t afraid before she definitely was now. He had abandoned his stylish jacket in favour of a clear red raincoat, but it wasn’t the raincoat that caught her attention it was the splatters on it.

It wasn’t supposed to rain today, and she knew for a fact water didn’t splatter like that nor look that dark. It was blood, blood that she hoped she’d never know who or what it was from. She could only beg silently in her own head; it was just fake blood and a last minute costume. But even she couldn’t bullshit her way out of this, her gut telling her the truth on what it was.

“It smells like vanilla, did you not want to wait for me to take a bath? I need one.” Jeno spoke, voice low in volume speaking as if they were having a normal conversation. Even though he’d broken into her house.

As if to prove his point he pulled his hand away from her face to wipe away flecks on his face, only managing to spudge the half dried blood on his skin. Y/n willed her mouth to move, to speak anything out loud, but nothing left her lips all the while Jeno stared down at her waiting.

“It’s alright we can take a shower in the morning.” He decided for both of them. Moving to pull his raincoat off, letting it drop against her bedroom floor all the while trying to continue looking down at her, like as if he looked away she’d be gone. That was something he couldn’t afford to let happen.

“You got me pretty riled up tonight baby, had to take it out on others. Don’t worry I took it out on sinners.” He continued but caught the way her eyes flickered at the last part of his sentence. He didn’t want her to go thinking he was insane so he explained while sitting down on her bed, hand moving to rest against her hip above the blankets.

“I am a prince of hell, the sin of wrath. But I’m also still Jeno, of course I played it up a bit when I first met you since I couldn’t have you scared of me. But now it’s gotten to the point I got sick of waiting, you can understand that right?”

She was having trouble processing his words, it was insanity. Yet just watching him, she could believe him. Swallowing when Jeno took his shoes off, seemingly having decided to get comfortable which meant he wasn’t leaving anytime soon.

“You don’t mind me being a little messy going to sleep right? I mean I wouldn’t be if you’d just let me in to begin with tonight.” His words manipulative, tongue curling around the words as if what he was saying was factual.

“I’ll take this as you agreeing, tomorrow is another day.” He hummed out peeling the blankets back slightly to join her underneath, his body craving not the warmth from the covers but her own.

He knew very well tomorrow she’d be awoken with renewed energy and enough resilience to try getting away from him, so he’d enjoy tonight on how she seemingly couldn’t form a sentence let alone move. Jeno would teach her not to run tomorrow but for now he relished in her acceptance, even if it was out of fear.

His hands snaking around her waist pulling her against his chest, head resting on top of her own, taking a deep breath in, the addictive scent of vanilla wafting around them. Moving to press a chased kiss against her forehead.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @rotinyzen @wonyoungmywife @snflwrhaerecs4u @thegreenlynx @serinebsblog @delululi @molensworld @morkiee @marvelahsobx @kaciebello @kgneptun @bluedbliss @haechansbbg @officiallyjaehyuns @bunnychui @audreybub @sleepyvic @winwintea

(This Taglist is used for all my nct context so if you’d like to be tagged in my nct content please comment or write to me to be added)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: sidenote: due to rushed time this is not proofread and will be edited soon.

𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭:

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𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭:

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[minjithekang]

NCT DREAM

THEY DEALING WITH YOU ON YOUR PERIOD

MARK

RENJUN

JENO

HAECHAN

JAEMIN

CHENLE

JISUNG

Thanks for reading, lovelies♡

[loserlvrss]

꒰ 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐓𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐋 ꒱ 钟辰乐

summary : your boyfriend loved basketball… maybe even more than he loved you. but, that also wasn’t true (mostly)

genre : fluff, comedy, chenle x afab!reader, slice of life tws : language, kissing, pet names author notes : based on personal experience (yeah he’s my bf) word count : 0.7k

“czennie, this one’s for you!” you shouted, launching the ball in your hands up into the air. unfortunately, you misjudged how far away the hoop was—or maybe you didnt put enough power into the throw—and you missed by a couple of feet. “shit!”

laugher wafted into your ears. “you can’t say that, and then miss, y/n.”

you turned to him, suddenly faced by your boyfriend; who loved basketball almost as much as he loved you. which came first? you, comically, couldn't decide some days. 

“mark did.” you recounted the viral video of one of his best friends. “so, why can’t i?” you pouted out your bottom lip. 

he approached you, picking up the orange ball at your feet on the way. he then held it out to you. “you can do anything but not take basketball seriously, okay?” 

you took it, sticking your tongue out playfully, and lining up for another shot. “you love this sphere more than me, don’t you?” 

his hands caressed yours, breaking your focus, chest pressed to your back. your face started to heat up at the proximity. you could feel his breath fan your neck as he bent down to be at the same eyeline. “look at the middle of the box.” he commented, pulling your fingers apart, and using your wrist to readjust your grip. “and, make sure you follow through.” 

“i’m a lot of things, but a quitter isn’t one.” you admitted, making him laugh. “watch this!” you pushed the ball from your hands, accepting his assistance in making it go farther.

your eyes grew wider, and you held your breath. for a moment you thought the ball was making it into the hoop this time, chenle gasping from behind you. well, that was until it bounced off the rim right back at you.

and, as if it was a comedy, the ball hit you right on the head. you yelped, trying to gather whatever was left of your thoughts. your hands shot up to clutch the area, pain not spreading until a couple long-lived seconds after it bounced off somewhere. now you hoped it would stay away from you forever. 

you cursed your boyfriend and his stupid hobby. you could’ve been wrapped up in his arms on the couch watching a movie. or eating a hard-earned snack. or doing a stupid dog puzzle. anything other than playing a sport in the dead of night, at some janky hole-in-wall-esk court; concrete cracked, hoop hanging on by a (literal) thread. 

but still, you loved him way too much to not indulge his hobbies with him. you loved him so much it outweighed any pain you felt, physically and mentally. 

“oh my god,” chenle choked on a breath—maybe even a small laugh—holding you close to him and rubbing the area that was used as the backboard. 

and, he loved you too much, too. 

“how’d it only hit me?” you mumbled through his arms. “you’re not even inches away from me. a-and your head’s bigger than mine!” 

he let his arms drop to your shoulders, spinning you to face him. he had an amused grin on his face, but a confused twinge to his eyebrows. “what the hell, babe?” 

your hands innocently pleaded. “i’m just saying!” he eyed you curiously, obviously interested in how you’d turn this around. “it’s true, but i love you and your big head. i think it’s cute—i think you’re so cute.” 

apparently, not very far. 

“babe?” you ran for the ball, leaving him in silence. his mouth hung open at your audacity, the antics making you forget all about the dull pain on your skull. “y/n? are you seri—“ 

he was cut off when you charged for the net, shouting. “chenle, this one’s for you!” and throwing the ball upwards in hopes it’d, at least, make it close. you spun around running up to him instead, trying to distract from the fact that the odds weren’t in your favor. 

your body smacked into his, arms around his neck, his finding home around your waist. 

everything was going too fast, he didn’t have a chance to process anything you were doing. however, he found it oddly adorable. 

you pressed your lips to his, but pulled away when you noticed his eyes were wide. he was looking behind you, an arm coming off your hips to point. “y/n, you actually made it…” 

you whipped around so fast it should’ve been dangerous. “really?” you shouted into the cool night air, voice lowering quickly. “i mean, of course i did.” you felt his arms snake around your waist, holding you close like when he was showing you how to shoot the ball—before it fought back. “it was for you, afterall.” 

reblogs, likes and comments are greatly appreciated! thank u!

— perm tag list .ᐟ send an ask to be added c:

— back to masterlist .ᐟ

[chenlesfavorite]

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NIGHT RIDER : chapter 36 — nothing more than a bad decision

back — masterlist — next

! author’s note : i can’t make them happy just yet… sorry guys ☹️🙏

✮⋆˙ taglist: @nanaxwi @neocrashed @404tytrack @connormurphynation @dudekiss3r @injunnie-lemon @chenlesfeetpic @neozon3nha @morkiee @doughyk @i03jae @haechology @foxy-kitsune @fullsunbabe @polarisjisung @beommii @soobiverse @onlyhyunjin @lostinneocity @yyangj3lly @junviadinho @miyawwn @marvelahsobx @starfilledgaze @nosungluv @gukuwii @bitchzitschimi @whoooootf @nneteyamss @theandypark @urslytherin @xcosmi @taroddori @winwintea @iamsimplyasimp @ckline35 @yutarot @sunghoonsgfreal @roseangelxfuma @thegracerammy @nctjunie @do-you-remember-summer-127 @cosmic-marauder @tanjanro @myouthles @nctrawberries @octubreuno @galacticpurpl3 @voikiraz @defzcl @silvsie @the-swageyama-tobiyolo

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[yeoosaangg]

៹ SWIM || KINKTOBER ─ DAY 21

➛ PAIRING:: ZHONG CHENLE × FEM!READER

➛ NOW PLAYING:: SWIM — CHASE ATLANTIC

⤷ ❝YOU PICKED A DANCE WITH THE DEVIL AND YOU LUCKED OUT.❞

➛ GENRE:: IDOL!AU, SECRET RELATIONSHIP, SMUT

➛ WARNINGS:: IMPACT PLAY, CHOKING, DEGRADATION, FINGERING, GAGGING, PRAISE, SEMI-PUBLIC SEX, SPITTING, THROAT FUCKING

── ⋆ ⋆ ── 𔘓 ── ⋆ ⋆ ──

You should've known this would happen.

All you did was apologize to Enhypen's Lee Heeseung for bumping into him at an award show. All the fans went crazy at the public interaction, even if it was accidental.

His hand only held your waist for a second before you went your separate ways.

But your boyfriend doesn't care. Another man's hands were on you and that automatically set off his jealousy. But he knew better than to act impulsively.

So he waited.

After your solo performance, you notice your styling team didn't accompany you inside. You shrug, deciding to change yourself.

You're completely bare when you're being pressed against your mirror rather harshly. You panic, attempting to scream until a familiar man whispers into your ear.

Chenle: I love seeing you like this. All vulnerable for me.

Y/n: What's going on? Shouldn't you be sitting with your group members?

Chenle: What was that out there, hm?

Y/n: What are you talking about?

Chenle: Heeseung.

Y/n: Nothing happened. I just didn't see him standing there when rushing back from the restroom.

He hums, kissing the back of your shoulders. You moan lowly when he rubs his growing bulge against you.

His hand then wraps around your throat, pulling you back into his chest. A surprised gasp of pain escapes your lips as he squeezes tightly.

Chenle: You are mine, doll. You know that, right?

You nod profusely.

He chuckes darkly as he watches the mirror fog up with how hot he's making you feel.

Chenle: If you ever let another man fucking touch you again, I'll kill him and lock you up in our room. Do you understand, darling?

Y/n: I understand.

He loosens his grip on you, letting you turn around to face him. He picks you up and properly sits you down on the vanity.

His hands run up and down your thighs before he lightly smacks them. You moan as he massages the sting away.

Chenle: Remember that talk we had about impact play?

You nod.

Chenle: How about I ask you some questions before I engage in such punishment.

Y/n: Okay.

He smiles, kissing your entire face while his hands continue to massage your thighs. You wish he'd move them higher, but you'll be patient.

Chenle: Have you had any experience with impact play before?

Y/n: No. You're my first everything.

He doesn't realize how much that affects him until his dick twitches in his pants. He hastily gets naked to avoid a wet patch from forming.

The stylists would have his head.

Chenle: Where do you want me to hit you?

Y/n: Ass, legs, boobs, pussy and thighs.

Judging by how you reacted to his light smack earlier, he was expecting you to say your thighs.

Chenle: Answer this while thinking of future scenes. What do you want to be hit with?

Oh.

Well, that's hard. You don't truly know the terminology yet, but you'll try everything if it means he'll be with you through it all.

Y/n: We can figure that out as we progress.

Chenle: How do you feel about marks?

Y/n: I don't mind them as long as they're hidden.

Chenle: Where would you like them?

Y/n: I guess my ass and boobs? No one other than you can see me naked, anyway.

He kisses you in adoration. He knows you bruise easily, that's why he's asking. He doesn't want to get you in trouble with your company.

Chenle: Do you have any medical concerns I should be aware of?

You shake your head.

Chenle: Do you have any allergies?

Y/n: Latex.

He'll remember that for future purposes. He'll avoid buying products containing latex to not inconvenience you. He wants you healthy at all times.

Chenle: And most importantly: do you want to use a safe word or the stoplight system?

Y/n: The latter.

Chenle: Any non-verbal cues?

Y/n: Two taps on your left elbow.

Chenle: Good girl. Now bend over that couch over there.

He steps away from you, smirking when you do as he says. How cute! You forgot this was a punishment. He'll make sure you remember that.

Chenle: We'll start with spanking and work our way up. Think you can handle it?

Y/n: Yes, Master.

He bites back a moan. This is the first time you call him that, ever.

He fucking loves it.

Chenle: I never thought I'd hear you call me that so soon, doll. But, fuck, that's so hot. Do it again.

Y/n: Spank me, Master.

He presses his cock to your dripping cunt, running it up and down your folds. He pushes you forward and spreads your ass cheeks before slamming his hand on your flesh.

You don't even care where you're at right now. All you can focus on is your boyfriend and his hands turning your ass red.

Chenle: God, you look beautiful like this.

He leans down to kiss your asshole, making you jerk forward.

Y/n: Please don't tease me, Master.

Chenle: Quiet, slut. This is still your punishment.

You hear him grab his belt, rubbing against your burning skin.

Chenle: Ready?

You nod, screaming when the leather leaves a long red mark across the back of your thighs. He continues to hit you with his belt the louder your moans get.

Y/n: Master, it feels good.

Chenle: Yeah? What's your color?

Y/n: Green.

He smacks you again, the leather brushing against your cunt. You gasp at the feeling, crying from the pain. But it feels so good.

He rubs the crimson flesh with his hands, leaving kisses in his wake.

Chenle spits on your pussy, running his finger up and down, circling your clit.

Y/n: Want it inside.

Chenle: Do you now? Think you can take my cock in your mouth while I play with your pretty cunt?

Y/n: Yes, Master.

He smirks and kneels in front of you, ass arched even more as he shoves his cock into your mouth with no warning.

He starts thrusting his hips against your face while three of his fingers work you open. His free hand lands a few slaps against your ass while his knuckles disappear inside you.

Your eyes tear up, but you avoid gagging by inhaling through your nose as slowly as you can. You make sure your tongue glides against the underside of his dick.

You try your best to reach up and massage his balls, but with how brutal he's abusing your mouth and pussy... It was becoming difficult.

You begin to squirm and whine the closer he brings you to an orgasm.

Chenle: Are you close, pet?

You choke on your moan at the name. It sounds good coming from him. But you shake your head, too embarrassed to admit you're already gonna cum.

A scream is muffled when he increases his speed on both sides, smirking to himself as he stares into the mirror. This way, he sees his fingers being swallowed by your tight cunt.

Chenle: That's it, baby. Feels good, doesn't it? Just needed a little more help, hm?

That's all it takes for you to squirt on his fingers and taste his cum down your throat.

You thought that was it when he pulls away from you, but he pulls you with him and guides you onto his lap.

Chenle: Your thighs are shaking so much already.

He smacks them hard, eliciting a pornographic moan from you. He then lightly smacks your tits.

Y/n: Fuck!

Chenle: You're so fucking sexy, my little cocksleeve. Now sit on my cock.

You grab his shaft and instantly sit down all the way, screaming at how full you feel.

Y/n: Master, you're so big.

Chenle: You're still so tight. Guess I've got a lot of work to do, doll.

He grabs your hips and slams you up and down. Your tits bounce in his face, so he catches your nipple in his mouth. You scream his name repeatedly in pure bliss.

Chenle: You look the most beautiful like this, my slut. Let everyone walking down the hallway know what a cock hungry whore you are.

You try to answer, but your brain is mush and the only sounds you can make are moans ans whimpers.

Chenle: Your pussy feels so warm, love. The way your gummy walls squeeze my cock has me wanting to cum inside you.

You clench around him at the idea.

Come to think of it, this is his first time fucking you without wearing a condom. His jealousy must've clouded his mind a lot.

Chenle: Yeah, that's right. Take my fucking dick. I'm yours and you're mine. And it'll stay that way.

You nod, not being able to speak. Having sex with him gets better and better the more you explore your likes and dislike.

And, fuck, you like this so much.

You could get caught any second now, but that's the exciting part. Somebody walking in and seeing Chenle destroy your pussy sounds hot.

His thrusts ar getting rougher, so you try to pull away, but he pulls you back with a grunt.

Chenle: Don't fucking run from me, doll. I know damn well how much you want me to ruin you.

You bury your head in his neck, letting him rut into you as he pleases. He kisses the back of your ear and watches you moan from how good he's pounding your poor cunt.

Chenle: Just relax for me. I'll make you feel good.

Your body feels so numb, yet so much at the same time. You've never experienced such a rush from getting fucked by your boyfriend before, but you like it.

Chenle: On your knees and open your mouth.

He stops thrusting so you can hop off and kneel in front of him. He pumps his cock a few times before cumming all over your tongue and chin.

Chenle: Fuck, baby. I love you so much.

You swallow his cum, licking the rest from your hands after you wipe it off.

Y/n: Tired.

He brings you up on the couch, throwing your legs over his lap and hugging you into his side.

Chenle: You and I are ditching the rest of the award show.

Y/n: What?! Lele, we're both nominated for the big awards tonight. It'll look suspicious if our respective groups have a missing member.

He smiles at you, kissing your temple. He knows the risks, but he's not going to let you go immediately after having sex without aftercare.

Chenle: Let's go public, princess.

Y/n: Wait, what? Where'd that come from?

You kiss along his jaw as he massages your body to calm the shaking down a bit.

Chenle: As much as I love our secret meetings, I just can't do it anymore. My jealousy gets worse the more you're shipped with someone else.

You sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck and look him in the eyes as he continues talking.

Chenle: Everytime you and I have overlapping schedules, I get so happy because then I get to see you. Even if it's for two minutes in a supply closet.

You laugh remembering your last comeback. It was hard to even sneak in there with all the staff running around the place.

Chenle: You don't even know how bad I want to kiss you in front of everyone whenever we have the privilege to stand on a stage together.

You feel that way, too.

Chenle: Like that one time at the end of the year festival? You stood next to me and I had to fight off every urge to hold your hand. It gets so painful the more I have to hold back.

Y/n: I know, baby. I feel the same way, too.

Chenle: And I honestly don't give a fuck about the fans' opinions. What matters is that I love you with my entire body and soul.

You kiss all over his face, a huge smile spread across both of your faces.

Y/n: Let's do it then.

Chenle: Really?

You nod, kissing him deeply.

Y/n: Really.

═══

a/n: i'm gonna kms... i have the biggest soft spot for chenle, yet here i am writing this. god, the delulu in me needs to calm down!!! thank you for reading ‹𝟹

[taeilvur]

7:37am

you stood in the kitchen, waiting for chenle to return from the bathroom.

you couldn’t help but let your curiosity take over as you examine the pan that’s cooking yours and chenle’s breakfast. both of you had a day off, something that doesn’t occur often. he had stepped away for a minute to use the bathroom, leaving you to watch the pan. you lacked basic cooking skills. even your boyfriend knew, telling you to take a step back from the stove.

you stand there, the food across from the kitchen the only thing keeping you company. fidgeting with your fingers, you walk over to the stove and curiosity gets the best of you. nobody has ever taught you how to cook, chenle tried, but despite his best efforts, you both ended up taking a trip to see the er doctors.

your inability to work around a kitchen wasn’t a big deal, it was the way in which you moved about the kitchen that was a safety concern. never minding whatever chenle had going on in the kitchen, you moved around as though there were no obstacles, ignoring all of the pans and cooking utensils being used.

bored, you start messing with the settings on the stove, exactly what chenle told you to stay away from. but you can’t stop now, you let your mind take over and the next second you find yourself holding your left hand, the reddish pink colored flesh, glistening in the dim kitchen light.

“chenle!” you shout, slightly panicked but somewhat assured. this isn’t the first time there’s been an incident in the kitchen.

you hear your boyfriend’s fast footsteps, trailing out of the room and into the kitchen. his eyes meet yours then travel down your body, meeting your burnt hand.

chenle sighs, “what do i always tell you?”

“don’t go near the stove when there’s food cooking.” you glance at him and turn your head to the floor.

“are you ok?” his eyes shift up to your face and soften when he realizes he may have been a little too harsh. “do we need to go to the-“

“i can handle it, we’ve been through this before.” it’s true, you know how to treat your mild burns, stuff like this has happened countless times. even chenle has become an expert at treating your wounds you receive from the kitchen.

“i know. you know there’s a reason i tell you to stay away from the hot stove and other dangerous kitchen appliances, right?” chenle turns the sink on as you walk over to him, placing your hands under the cool running water. “it’s because i don’t want these accidents to keep happening.” he places a light kiss on the top of your head, watching as you leave your hands to cool off under the water.

you take a deep breath in then sigh. of course you know that, but you want to help. you want to be apart of the team, and that means you’re determined to make do with what you already know about cooking. nothing.

“i wanna help.” you look at chenle. “i want to help you cook.”

he looks up at you, noticing the determination on your face. he nods in agreement, feeling bad about having given up on you in the first place. “we can try again,” he states with a little hesitation in his voice, and you can tell he doesn’t want to go through an accident like this, again.

“i can do it.” you reassure him and he smiles back.

“i know you can.”