#nct xiaojun angst | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

keehomania · 3 months ago

Note

hello! can I please ask for dom xiaojun with afab reader and creampie stuff? i felt like not many story abt him here

SWEET HOME — XIÀO DÉJÙN (肖德俊) (18+)

✧ MDNI (NSFW)

why did people endure the bad life threw at them? why was the path ahead always so rocky? you crossed all the bridges laid out for you, not for the thrill of the journey, but for one reason and one reason only—to reach the other side. the other side was always promised to be warmer, more forgiving, more welcoming. the other side kissed scarred knuckles and brought life back to weak pulse points. it held the kind of peace that made you believe the hardships were just a fleeting dream, a memory easily forgotten in the haze of new beginnings.

but the truth lingered, no matter how hard you tried to forget. the hardships were real. they were carved into the person you’d become, shaping you like clay pressed under relentless hands. they were the reason you could stand tall now, feet firmly planted on the ground, even when everything inside felt like it was floating, uncertain. they were the cruel, quiet moments of crying into your hands, panicking over assignments left undone, opportunities missed. you were in your senior year—why hadn’t you done more? why hadn’t you pushed yourself harder, sought out those extra credits that could’ve given you some sense of security? the weight of that regret felt unbearable sometimes, pressing down on your chest until you could barely breathe.

and then came the anxiety. the thick, consuming realization that college acceptance meant more than just a new chapter in your life—it meant you were no longer anybody’s little girl. you were no longer wrapped in the warmth and familiarity of your sweet home, no longer protected by those walls that had once made the world outside seem so far away. now, it was right in front of you, towering and daunting, filled with the unknown. a new place, new people, new responsibilities. it was all so unfamiliar, and you weren’t used to any of it.

falling in love for the first time was supposed to be beautiful, wasn’t it? that’s what everyone said—love was the one thing that was supposed to make everything better. but how could something so beautiful be so terrifying? why did it feel like every emotion was heightened, every glance, every word loaded with meaning? why was déjùn ignoring you when just last week, he had been everything you needed? why were you so mad at him, when you couldn’t even remember what had sparked the argument in the first place?

the cycle was exhausting. déjùn would get worried, you’d get upset. you’d break up, convinced it was the end, only to stalk each other like prey around campus, neither one of you willing to fully let go. and then, inevitably, you’d make up, but it never seemed to get any easier. somehow, no matter how broken things felt, life never kept you too far apart. maybe there was a reason for that. there was.

there was a reason. a reason that went deeper than anything fate could’ve scripted for you. it wasn’t just about watching déjùn smile or listening to his voice as he mumbled sleepily into your neck on those nights where time seemed to slow, letting you savor every heartbeat. no, it was more than that. it was to warm the hands that kept you going, to shelter the body that melted so perfectly against yours, as if you’d been carved from the same stone. the reason transcended the simple notion of destiny; it went beyond what the universe might have planned for you both.

you knew it when you saw him cry for the first time, and everything changed. he was always the composed one—the one who kept it together when the world felt like it was unraveling. his cool exterior never faltered, or at least, that’s what you thought until the night it all fell apart. it happened in your dorm, the quiet, familiar space suddenly feeling like a place for unraveling instead of refuge. he had broken down in front of you like he hadn’t in front of anyone else. the sobs came from deep within him, raw and uncontrolled, shaking his body in a way that left you speechless.

he had sat on your bed, hands covering his face, broken sobs echoing off the walls. His whole body shuddered with each breath, the pain pouring out of him like a dam had finally burst. you didn’t know why. he never told you, and you never asked. you never had to. it wasn’t the words that mattered in that moment, it was the feeling, the weight of his pain heavy enough to crush both of you. and so you wept with him. his tears fell, unfiltered, washing over your heart, the same heart that beat for him without hesitation.

you had held him, arms wrapped around his shaking frame, fingers tangled in his hair, and cried until his sobs finally quieted. until his breathing evened out, and the room fell silent again, save for the occasional hitch in his breath. but even that moment—intimate, raw, and unforgettable—wasn’t the full reason. the reason went beyond every touch, every kiss, every whispered promise he had never once broken. he had given you a home in his arms, a place where you belonged, where the rest of the world didn’t matter. and you were determined to give him that same home, something tangible, something sweet that he could call his own.

the house was more than just a dream. it was real, a piece of you given to him. nestled between the fields and the trees, with a creek nearby and a church hidden deep within the forest. the barn and pens were close, but they never reeked of animals. instead, the air smelled of freshwater and lilies, just like you had always imagined it would. the subtle scent of freshly baked bread lingered from the home bakery nearby, the kind of smell that made your stomach rumble in anticipation.

the house itself was two stories, painted in a soft white that reflected the sun’s warmth. but it wasn’t just white—it was touched with dabs of his favorite color. that dear green of his, the one that reminded you of life and renewal, stained the edges of the house in delicate patterns, blending into the scenery in a way that felt right, not overdone. the front steps led up to a porch where a swing swayed gently, waiting for the two of you to sit on it together, watching the sky stretch out before you. lamps stood at every corner, offering light even in the house’s darkest moments, casting a glow that felt as comforting as his presence beside you.

inside, the hallway stretched long, tiled floors echoing the soft sound of your footsteps. at the end of the hall, the bathroom sat to the right, perfectly positioned for convenience, though you barely noticed those details now. the front door led to the stairs, winding up to the second floor where your future awaited. through the door at the end of the hallway, the kitchen and living room intertwined, open and welcoming. only a small, dainty dining table separated the two spaces, enough to give the illusion of division but keeping the warmth of the home intact.

it was a place meant for sharing, for filling with memories. you could already picture yangyang sprawled across the couch, controllers in hand, keeping déjùn company when you were too busy. the boys would all gather here, because it was home. it wasn’t just a house—it was the place he had always needed, filled with laughter and warmth, with the scent of lilies and bread and the sound of friends filling the space with life. the first time he saw it, his eyes welled up, and he broke down again, not in pain this time, but in pure, unfiltered joy. you cried with him, standing there on the porch, the two of you holding each other in the doorway of the life you had built together. it was everything he had ever wanted, and it was given to him by the only person he had ever truly needed.

you stood by the stove, the warm, cozy glow of the kitchen wrapping around you like a familiar hug. the room was your sanctuary, every little detail curated to your liking, but there were traces of déjùn everywhere. a coffee mug he always used, a soft green tea towel he’d picked out, even the way the pots were arranged had his influence. it was a constant reminder that he was always there, woven into every corner of your life. you could feel him in the air, in the way the sun filtered through the windows, and in the gentle way the house creaked, as though it was alive with both of your memories.

you were making one of his favorites—peanut noodles with chili crisp. the rich scent filled the air as you prepped, hands working deftly, slicing and mixing with a practiced ease. a batch of iced green tea waited for him in the fridge, the condensation slowly forming on the glass, just the way he liked it. everything you did for him was done with care, every detail proving the love that pulsed through you. it had always been this way. every action, every gesture, was imbued with a purpose, because everything you did was for him.

you were so immersed in it, focused on the rhythm of your movements, that you hadn’t heard him come in. he stood there, just behind you, watching quietly. he didn’t want to intrude, but the scent had drawn him in, and now the sight of you convinced him to stay. you looked so pretty. your hair was tied up in a loose bun, strands falling just out of place, framing your face in a way that made you glow. your brows furrowed in concentration, your lips, soft and pink, pouted just slightly as you worked. a pink apron tied neatly at your back over your sundress, making you look both delicate and capable all at once. you were perfect.

he couldn’t believe he had you—couldn’t believe that someone so good, so kind, was his. the sight of you, standing there in your shared kitchen, cooking for him in a house that may not have been made by you, but had been turned into a home because of you. the thought of anyone else seeing you like this, of anyone else getting even a glimpse of you, stirred something possessive deep inside him. no one deserved that. no one but him.

you didn’t notice his presence until you felt it—his warmth, his breath ghosting over your ear, so close it made the hairs on your neck stand up. your body tensed for a moment, but then you softened, melting into his familiar touch. a smile tugged at your lips as you felt his arms snake around your waist, pulling you close. “everything okay?” you murmured, your voice soft, your expression relaxed now that he was near. his arms tightened around you, and you felt his face press into the crook of your neck, the closeness sending a wave of warmth over you.

your voice was like honey to him, sweet and soothing. you felt so small in his grasp, so helpless in the best way possible. his presence was overwhelming in the most intoxicating way, and you loved it. he made you feel safe but also powerless, as though the mere act of him holding you was enough to remind you who you belonged to. “i love you so much,” déjùn murmured against your skin, his voice low, breath hot as his teeth grazed the sensitive spot on your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

“i love you too,” you whispered back, your voice shaky, hands trembling slightly around the knife you still held. the sensation of his lips on your neck, the possessiveness of his hold, it was too much. you didn’t even realize how much your hands were shaking until his fingers, large and sure, gently closed around yours, guiding the knife out of your grip and setting it on the counter. his touch was careful, but there was no mistaking the dominance in it. he took your hand into his, long fingers wrapping around your much smaller ones, grounding you.

“i'm almost done, okay?” you asked, trying to steady your breath, trying to focus on anything but the heat pooling low in your stomach.

his response was a quiet, “i'm not patient enough,” his voice was gravelly, deeper now, filled with something darker, as his lips found the curve of your neck again. this time, he didn’t stop. “i'm not patient enough to resist you,” he said, his words sending a fresh wave of heat through you.

before you could respond, his hands were on your hips, gripping you firmly as he turned you around in one fluid motion. a surprised yelp escaped your lips, but it was quickly swallowed by the intensity of his gaze. his fingers spread over your thighs, slipping under the hem of your dress, teasingly close to where you were already aching for him. he lifted you effortlessly, and instinctively, your legs wrapped around his waist. “so pretty,” déjùn murmured, his voice soft but filled with adoration as he pressed a lingering kiss to your cheek, his lips wet and warm. “aren't you?”

you were flushed, the heat creeping up from your chest to your face, and all you could do was nod, unable to form coherent words as his lips found yours. the kiss wasn’t hurried or sloppy; it was purposeful. his lips moved against yours with a confidence that made your knees weak, though you didn’t need to stand. he was holding you, carrying you with ease as he walked, never breaking the kiss as he made his way up the stairs.

by the time you reached the bedroom, your breathing had quickened, but he was steady, holding you like you were the most precious thing in the world. he kicked the door open with his foot, crossing the threshold with a grin that made your heart flutter. when he laid you down on the bed, his body hovered over yours, his hands trailing down to your thighs once more. his touch was electric, and all you could do was let yourself melt into him, the weight of the world disappearing as his lips claimed yours again.

the kiss deepened, his lips moving slowly, deliberately, as if savoring each moment, each taste of you. his hands, though gentle, had a strength that made you feel small beneath him, yet cherished. his fingers, impossibly long and deft, found the apron tied over your dress, pulling at the knot with ease. the fabric loosened and fell away, forgotten, as his attention shifted to the way your knees bent, your legs spreading just slightly, enough for him to notice the hitch in your breath.

his eyes followed the movement, lingering where your dress had bunched up, revealing the soft cotton of your pink panties. his gaze dropped to the faint dampness staining the fabric, and a slow, knowing smile spread across his face. his thumb traced the outline of your swollen lips, his touch feather-light but sending a ripple of anticipation through your body.

“what do you want, baby?” his voice was low, almost a whisper, as his thumb pressed lightly against your bottom lip. the question hung in the air between you, heavy and full of promise, but the words you wanted to say tangled in your throat. you let out a small, pathetic whimper, your mouth parting slightly as his thumb pushed past your lips, pressing against your tongue.

“you know i’ll give my girl whatever she wants if she uses her words, right?” he murmured, his tone teasing but affectionate, the dark timber of it wrapping around you like a velvet rope. his thumb pressed deeper, your lips wrapping around the knuckle as you instinctively closed your mouth around him. the weight of his finger, the intimacy of it, made your breath hitch, a broken sound escaping your throat as you struggled to find your voice. you nodded, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes as his thumb pressed further into your mouth, deeper until it filled the space, until he was satisfied. your teeth grazed lightly against his skin as you tried to speak around him, your voice muffled, rasping out a soft, desperate plea. “want you, xiao, please.”

his eyes darkened at your words, his free hand cupping your cheek as his thumb finally withdrew, leaving you gasping for breath. his gaze roamed over your face, taking in the tears clinging to your lashes, the flush of your cheeks, the way your lips were swollen and parted. his thumb brushed across your cheek, wiping away the tear that had slipped free, his lips curving into a gentle smile that didn’t quite reach the hunger in his eyes. “god, you’re too much,” he murmured, his voice thick with something darker, something possessive. his hand slipped down to your waist, fingers skimming the sensitive skin just above your panties. your breath hitched again, the sensation of his fingers so close to where you needed him most almost unbearable.

déjùn's knuckle grazed over your clothed pussy, the pressure sending a jolt of pleasure through you that made your nails dig into his arm. your fingertips brushed against the prominent veins running down his forearm, feeling his pulse beneath your touch. you were aching, desperate for more, but just when you thought he'd finally give you what you craved, he stopped. the loss of contact made your body tense with frustration, and you pouted, your lips parting in disappointment. he caught your expression and smiled, his fingers stroking the soft skin of your thigh. his touch was gentle, teasing, as he asked, “can you do something for me?”

you nodded eagerly, desperate for him to stop teasing, to finally get on with what you both so clearly wanted. “take everything off,” he said, his voice low, thick with desire, “and put your apron back on.”

the request caught you off guard, a moment of surprise flashing in your eyes, but you couldn’t deny the way your body responded to the thought. the sight of you in nothing but the apron—cooking for him, being his—was enough to drive him insane. it made you feel delicate, pretty, like you belonged to him completely. you could feel your pulse quickening at the idea, the excitement building as you imagined how his gaze would devour you.

standing on the bed, your hands trembled slightly as you reached for the hem of your sundress. déjùn was on his knees beneath you, his hands gently guiding you, helping to pull the fabric over your head. his lips followed the path of your dress as it lifted, leaving soft, lingering kisses down your stomach, his nose brushing against your skin. when the fabric pooled at your feet, his lips reached the top of your thighs, kissing just above your panties, his breath warm against the sensitive skin. the ache between his legs was becoming unbearable, the sight of you, the taste of your skin—it was overwhelming. hos hands slid up the back of your thighs, his fingers pressing into the soft flesh, gripping you like he never wanted to let go.

your hands were shy, hesitant, as you reached behind your back to unhook your bra. the strap loosened, and déjùn’s hands were quick to pull it down, his eyes dark with desire as the material fell away. he leaned upward, his lips finding the bare skin of your breast, his tongue darting out to trace slow, tantalizing circles around your nipple. a soft moan escaped your lips, your back arching slightly as his mouth closed over you, sucking gently. “keep going, baby,” he murmured against your skin, his breath hot against your nipple. his voice was low, laced with hunger, urging you on.

you did as you were told, your fingers trembling as you hooked your thumbs into the waistband of your panties, tugging them down your thighs. déjùn's mouth left your breast, but his hand replaced it, groping and tugging at the sensitive flesh as he shifted his attention lower. he was utterly entranced by the sweet smell of your core, the way your body trembled as you exposed yourself to him. his free hand moved to spread your thighs apart, his fingers gentle but firm, guiding you to open for him. his lips brushed against your inner thigh, trailing soft kisses as he moved closer to where you needed him most. you could feel his breath hot against your folds, his nose grazing your entrance, teasing you, making you shake beneath his touch.

“xiao—” you began to beg, your voice a broken whisper, but he cut you off with a soft shush, his lips brushing against your thigh as he did. the vibration of his voice shot straight through you, making your core tighten in anticipation. “almost there,” he murmured, his voice soft, soothing, but full of promise. you let out a small whimper, your hips shifting slightly, aching for him to stop teasing. but instead of giving in, he licked a slow, deliberate stripe up your thigh, his nose brushing dangerously close to your core without touching. he inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of your arousal, and it took everything in him to resist the temptation to devour you.

you reached for the apron, your hands shaking as you pulled it over your head, the thin straps tightening around your neck as you adjusted it. déjùn pulled back just enough to watch, his eyes dark and hungry as they roamed over your body. the front of the apron barely covered you, the fabric tight around your waist, your breasts spilling out from the sides. from his angle, your core was still exposed, and the sight made his breath hitch.

with a groan, he reached for you, his hands gripping your hips as he turned you around, his gaze taking in the sight of your ass peeking out from the back of the apron. his fingers trembled slightly as he hastily tied the strings behind you, pulling you back down onto the bed. “you drive me insane,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire, his hands gripping you firmly as he tugged the knot tight.

déjùn laid you down gently on your back, his body hovering over yours, and for a moment, the world felt still. his lips found yours in a kiss so soft, so slow, that it made your heart stutter. his eyes scanned over you, lingering on the way the apron clung to your body, leaving so much exposed yet teasingly hidden. “you like it?” you asked shyly, your voice barely a whisper, your breath catching as his gaze turned heavy with desire.

without a word, his hands shot up, grabbing your breasts where they spilled shamelessly out of the apron’s sides, kneading them with an intensity that made your entire body flush with heat. “so much,” he groaned, his voice thick with hunger. “look so perfect, so pretty. the prettiest wife.” your breath hitched, a soft whimper escaping your lips as his words sank into you. but it was what he said next that made your body tremble, made the air in the room feel heavier, thicker. “you’ll be an even prettier mommy.”

the thought made you squirm beneath him, your thighs pressing together instinctively as his hands worked over your body. the idea of being his—entirely, fully, and forever—drove him wild. he didn’t just want you. he wanted to claim you, to breed you, to see you swollen with the weight of his children. the thought of you, plump and heavy with his seed, your belly round and your breasts full, helpless and tender for him—he needed it. he could already picture it: kissing your feet to soothe your exhaustion, cradling your swollen belly, watching you as you moved around his home, his perfect, precious wife. it was the most enchanting image, one that fueled the fire already burning inside him.

“gonna let me make you one, yeah?” his voice was soft, almost a plea, though there was nothing but certainty in his eyes. even with the unbearable strain in his pants, he was patient, waiting for your answer. “yeah,” you murmured, your voice shaking with need, “put a baby in me.” you would give him whatever he wanted because you wanted it just as much, maybe even more. the thought of being his, completely his, sent shivers down your spine, and you could feel the tension building inside him, the way his body shuddered at your words.

a grunt escaped him as he pushed your knees to your chest, spreading you wide open for him. his head dipped between your thighs, and instead of diving in like you expected, he pressed his face into your core, breathing you in deeply. his groan reverberated through your body, and your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging gently as you moaned. he had no idea just how wet you were, how ready you were for him. your slick clung to his nose and cheeks as he nuzzled deeper, the heat of his breath and the pressure of his face sending waves of pleasure through your core. you could feel the wetness slipping down your thighs, soaking his skin, and it only made you need him more.

“you’re making a mess, baby,” he grunted, his voice rough as his hands kneaded your thighs, fingers tracing the edge of the apron. “fuck, getting me all fucking dirty.” your response was nothing more than a pitiful whine, your body arching beneath him, lips parting as tears welled in your eyes from the overwhelming need for more. the sensation of his face pressed against you, his nose grazing your clit, was driving you mad.

then, his tongue flicked out, wrapping around your clit with a precision that made you see stars. he sucked at it gently at first, teasing you, then harder, his lips closing over your entire core. his tongue darted out, licking up and down your slit, collecting every bit of your juices, savoring the taste of you. “too much,” you shuddered, your voice barely a whisper as you tried to hold back. “wanna cum on your dick, please.”

you could beg all you liked, but déjùn was as mean as he was generous. he didn’t listen, didn’t stop. his pace quickened, his nose pressing into your clit while his tongue worked over your folds, licking up the slick that dripped down your thighs. you tasted so sweet, so familiar, and the more he tasted, the more he wanted. your core throbbed beneath his touch, your walls tightening as the pleasure built, unbearable, almost too much. you whimpered as he slipped a finger inside you, curling it, hitting that soft, spongy spot that made you cry out.

you sobbed quietly, the sensation overwhelming, your body on the brink of release. but just when you thought you’d fall over the edge, he pulled away. the loss of his mouth, of his touch, left you trembling, a frustrated whine escaping your lips. he was so mean. so mean. but then, his face softened, a gentle smile gracing his lips as he leaned over, pressing a kiss to your mouth. his chin was slick with your juices, his breath hot against your lips, and his fingers brushed away the tears that had spilled from your eyes.

“gonna stretch you out so good,” he groaned against your mouth, his words laced with promise, with need. “baby’s gonna pop right out once i’m done with you.” the taste of your arousal lingered on your tongue as his lips moved over yours, his hands roaming your body, his touch firm yet tender. you could feel the heat radiating from him, the way his body trembled with restraint as he hovered above you, his cock hard and aching against your thigh.

he made you watch as he peeled his clothes away, but you would’ve watched either way. how could you not? how could you look away, when he looked so good? his dark hair clung to his forehead, slick with sweat. in fact, he was sweaty all around. his chin and fingers were still wet with your arousal, but every other part of him was wet with sweat, and he’s never looked better. what really had your attention was his boxers, the sight of the tip of his cock peeking out from the top, hard and angry, pressing against his abs, eager to escape its confinement.

he chuckled as he watched your concentration, disrupting your thoughts. it only encouraged him to continue, tugging his boxers down his thighs eagerly. he let out a shameless groan as his cock collided with his stomach, upright and hard to the touch, the cool air grazing it and flooding him with temporary relief. he was so big, so so big, and you would never get used to it. every vein was prominent, blue clashing with the angry shade of red his cock was, begging for attention in every way. he seemed smug, pleased with how shocked you were as he took your frail hand and wrapped it around the base.

“oh, fuck,” he growled at the feeling of your fingers wrapped around him so generously. you looked up at him with doe eyes, innocent and sweet as if you weren’t a filthy mess for him. you stroked him from the base of his cock to the tip, your thumb dancing around the slit where pre-cum had started dribbling down his shaft. you savored the sounds he was making as you collected his seed with your thumb, releasing his dick just to plop your thumb into your mouth. he watched with a sinister gaze as your lips wrapped around your finger, sucking off the salty mess he was starting to make.

just like that, it was over. he pushed your knees up to your chest once more, eyes glazing over your weeping cunt a final time as he grabbed his dick, alligning it with your cunt. you could feel the tip against your clit, rock hard and thick as he tapped it against your pussy. “xiao, please, need you to fuck me,” you begged through unshed tears. you were about to press down against him, to stir up the smallest bit of friction, but he was mean. he held your hip down with his free hand, just to release his dick from his other one.

then, it unfolded before you could predict it. his free hand came down against your pussy, harsh and unforgiving with a squelch as his palm collided with a smack. your hips stuttered at the pain and sinful pleasure as a tear fell down your cheek, the weight of his cruel gaze unmatched. he spread his fingers in front of your face with a subtle smirk. “see how wet you are?” he cooed, gesturing to the slick dripping down his palm. “see how wet i make you?” all you could do was nod, too ashamed and too desperate to talk. he was plased, all too pleased with just how abused your cunt looked from a single slap.

it urged him on, encouraging him to bring his cock right back to your core. this time, there was no teasing. he would so generously give you what you were looking for, no matter how much it hurt—and it definitely hurt. no matter how many times he fucked you, no matter how hard, you would never adjust to his size. you moaned in synchronization as he eased his dick past your folds, your walls clamping down on him the second he entered you. you could feel every inch, every vein and every pulse. it was raw, it was painful, and it felt too good.

his eyes locked with yours as he slammed into you, the sound of your moans and the slap of his skin against yours echoing in the room. your tits bounced with every thrust, smacking against your chin as your knees were forced into your chest. you felt so full, so used, so utterly owned by this man. and yet, you craved more. “deeper,” you panted, your nails digging into the bed as your body begged for release. “deeper, xiao, need more.” he would oblige, he wanted it more than you did. he was determined to put a baby in you.

his strokes grew more erratic, his breaths shallower as he fucked you like it was his life's mission. your eyes never left his, the connection between you palpable. his cock was like a piston, relentlessly plunging into your tight pussy, hitting that spot that made you scream his name with every thrust. your walls quivered around him, desperately trying to keep him in, to keep that feeling forever. “this pussy was made for my cock, yeah?” he slurred, circling his hips before slamming right back into you. tears slid down your cheeks at the sensation of it, you wanted to be owned by him.

his hand tightened around your hip, his other gripping your chin to force your gaze up to his. “tell me how much you love it, baby. tell me how much you want my cum inside you,” he demanded, his voice thick with need. and you did, you told him just how much you loved it, how much you needed it. you begged him to fill you up, to breed you, to make you his. “fill me up with your cum, dont let any spill out,” you begged through your tears as they coated his hand. “get me pregnant, knock me up, xiao—fuck—” he was relentless, absolutely relentless with his hands on your knees, pushing you back to let him go deeper, his balls slapping against the flesh of your ass as he threw his head back with a groan.

you watched as his abs tensed, his cock thickening even more as he picked up his pace. the smack of skin on skin grew louder, your moans turning into screams as he hit your sweet spot over and over again. it was agonizingly beautiful, the way his body moved with yours, the way your cunt clamped down on him as he drove deeper, the way your tits jiggled with every thrust. you felt yourself getting closer, your walls tightening around his dick, the pressure building. he was gonna breed your cunt, make an oven out of your pussy.

his thumb found your clit, rubbing it in firm circles as he fucked you harder, the friction setting your nerves alight. “i’m gonna cum,” you gasped, your voice high and desperate. “i’m gonna cum on your cock, xiao.” he grunted, his hips slamming into you, his own orgasm just as imminent. “yes, baby, cum for me,” he whispered, his eyes dark with lust. “cum all over me, show me how much you want it.” and just like that, you did. your body tensed, your back arched, and a scream tore from your throat as your pussy spasmed around his cock, clenching tight as you came harder than you ever had before.

his rhythm didn't falter, though. if anything, it grew more intense, more punishing. “not yet,” he said, his voice strained. “i’m not done with you.” his thumb kept working your clit, pushing you into another orgasm, and another, until your cries were nothing but desperate pleas for mercy. but mercy wasn't something déjùn knew how to give, not when he had you like this, not when he could feel you milking him, begging for his seed.

his eyes were wild with lust, his pupils blown wide as he watched you come undone beneath him. “you’re gonna take every drop,” he promised, his strokes growing shallower as he chased his own release. “you’re gonna be pregnant with my baby, you're gonna carry it and grow it and push it out just for me.” the thought sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and excitement that had you trembling all over.

his thumb never left your clit, even as his hips stuttered, his cock pulsing with the beginnings of his orgasm. “xiao,” you whispered, “i’m gonna—” but he silenced you with a kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth, tasting the salt of your tears and the sweetness of your cries. he groaned against your lips, his hand leaving your chin to wrap around the base of his cock as he pushed in one final, deep thrust. you felt the warmth of his cum fill you, the pressure building until it was almost too much. your eyes rolled back in your head as your body was hit with a final wave of pleasure, his seed spilling into your womb. “yes,” you chanted, your voice muffled by his mouth. “yes, yes, yes—”

his body tensed above you, his muscles tight as he emptied himself inside you. his cock jerked, pulsing, and you could feel every drop of his cum coating your insides. when he finally pulled out, a string of it followed, connecting his cock to your pussy before snapping, leaving a trail of white on your skin. “so good,” he murmured, kissing down your neck as his hands softened on your hips. “so fucking good.” he was pleased, too pleased. all with the sight of your pussy coated in white—coated in his white.

✧

a/n: what would you do if when you okay so he said yes would GO 💜 thank you for requesting ily

67 notes · View notes

femdomlieeh · 4 months ago

Text

Notebook of a fool ✧ Xiaojun

BFF!Xiaojun ✧ Crush!Fem!Reader

WC—3.8 ✧ k

WARNING—anxiety ✧ heartbreak ✧ crying ✧ pet names

THEMES—sfw ✧ light angst ✧ future fluff (?) ✧ best friend au ✧ crush au

NOW PLAYING—OTT ✧ IVE

A/N. 누나 (nuna) = older sister

psst! Next update is a Beomgyu smut… probably my fav smut I’ve ever written

M.LISTS—wayv ✧ latest updates ✧ read on wp

✧ ੈ ✧ ‧₊˚ * ੈ ✧‧₊˚＊* ੈ ✧ ‧₊˚ * ੈ ✧‧₊˚＊* ✧ ੈ ✧

Today was one of those bad fucking days. One of those days when you can't find any positivity in anything. One of those days when you don't feel like talking to the people you love the most. One of those days when you just want to give up.

The first thing you saw in the morning was a notification of a text from your boyfriend. Looking at the white speech bubble is something you usually look forward to when you see Wonwoo's name bright up your screen, knowing he always has something entertaining to tell.

But this particular morning he said something you wish were a joke.

Wonwoo Boo💞

[ive been thinking lately and _____ i think we need a break]

Mommy🤠💦

[You're not going to tell me why?]

Seen 10:17

You asked him the first thing that came to your mind. He couldn't possibly just expect you to be OK with having a break without a reason, right?

After an hour you accepted the fact that he had left you on read and that he wasn't going to reply anytime soon.

Maybe it was because he called you _____.

He never called you by your name. Only your friends called you that. He was supposed to call you weird or cheesy pet names and nothing else!

He left you with a headache. He left you with your bad thoughts and theories. Damn you, Wonwoo.

It was very human-like of you to be in a bad mood. Only a robot would feel nothing in this situation. The day wouldn't get any worse. You were going to make sure of it! Your mood may have been bad, but you weren't going to let anyone else get affected by it. Lashing out on innocent people because you don't feel good on the inside is something you hated doing.

Today you were going to hang out with your best friend, Xiaojun, have a picnic on a park next to the Han river. Xiaojun had packed a cute pink basket (that he had specifically bought for you two to use for picnics together since they happened at least thrice a month) which was filled with kimchi kimbap, green grapes, two clementines and some churro flavored chips and you had packed a large outdoor blanket so Xiaojun wouldn't have too much to carry. For almost a week you two hadn't met up and you both missed each other and wanted to make up for the days you had spent apart so of course you went for the nice, typical not-romantic-at-all picnic hang out session.

But no.

You weren't going to meet Xiaojun and ruin his parade with the rain cloud that was following you around wherever you went since you opened your eyes this dark morning. No, you weren't going to let the first time you two meet in such a long time be ruined by the sad news you got this ugly morning.

누나 🥰

[I can't hang out today, sorry]

Prince Junnie🦄

[why not?☹️]

누나 🥰

[I'm not feeling too well]

Prince Junnie🦄

[it's ok i'll make u some delicious soup😊]

누나 🥰

[No, you don't need to, I don't want you to get sick!]

Prince Junnie🦄

[but ive missed u sm☹️]

누나 🥰

[We'll meet another day I promise to make up for this!]

And so you put the phone gently on the table to lay on the sofa and binge watch some random show. You made sure to turn your phone off first since you knew you'd cut Wonwoo some slack in case you read any persuasive text from him — he's good with words and making you feel loved. Whilst you were looking through all the lists Netflix had created for you, which were filled with movies and series you either had already seen or weren't interested in, Xiaojun was still expectantly waiting for his screen to go bright.

She must be joking, he thought.

Unlike you, Xiaojun's morning had started out brilliant. From the moment he opened his eyes, he was smiling and full of energy, excited to hang out with you after not seeing you for five whole days. He had missed you. Spending time with you was one of his favorite hobbies! Since you two had picnics regularly you two had decided that you would take turns in deciding and packing the picnic basket and this time it was Xiaojun's turn! He had been so excited all week, planning out a shopping list days before. He had specifically purchased grapes this time because he had this fantasy of putting one in your mouth (which sounded weird, but it would feel intimate to feed you fruit) and also playing around and throwing grapes up in the air and catching them in the mouth.

Needless to say, he liked you a little more than a best friend should and that was a bit of a problem. His friends kept telling him that it was stupid to spend so much time with you and that Xiaojun should either try to ignore his emotions or he should distance himself from you until he loses feelings, because it was unfair to hurt himself by giving himself false hopes of getting somewhere with a taken girl.

And Xiaojun knew it. For so long, he'd known that it was a bad idea to like you. You didn't like him in the same way, and you even had a boyfriend for fuck's sake — and a really pretty one at that! But no matter how many red flags there were, he still wanted to spend everyday with you. He didn't want a week to go by without being with you. He wanted to cuddle with you on a picnic blanket. He wanted to kiss you when you visited photo booths. He wanted to share hoodies with you. He wanted to stay up late and talk until you two fell asleep in each others' arms. He wanted to be the only one you called Prince.

Wondering why you called Xiaojun 'Prince' when you already were in a relationship with Wonwoo? Well, Prince had been Xiaojun's nickname before you even met Wonwoo (yes, you'd known Xiaojun longer than you'd known Wonwoo, yet you still found yourself in a relationship with the latter — or not anymore actually). And though your (then) boyfriend never liked it, you had convinced him it was just a friendly pet name. Because that's exactly what it was.

To you.

To Xiaojun it was the closest he'd ever feel to being your boyfriend. But you started using that pet name less and ever since Wonwoo came around and ruined everything more than it already was ruined. Xiaojun even had to change his contact name on your phone to include the word 'Prince' so you wouldn't forget to call him that.

He loathed Wonwoo.

Wonwoo was always the reason why you couldn't hang out with your bestfriend for too long, why you couldn't call him Prince on certain occasions and why you couldn't look at him as a potential boyfriend. Wonwoo was an attention thief. Not really. But it felt like it. Xiaojun was jealous of everything Wonwoo had with you.

Because your boyfriend obviously was a threat, Xiaojun felt like he needed even more of your validation than before (which was already a lot). He needed your attention. If you ignored him he'd think it was your way of telling him that you had left him completely for Wonwoo. Ridiculous! He shouldn't feel like you owe attention to him.

Your friendly fucking friendship was the closest thing Xiaojun had to being together with you in the way he really wanted, so he valued it a lot. Not having you as his girlfriend was painful enough, but not having you as even his friend would break him.

Right now you weren't validating your time together, nor your friendship — or at least it felt like it to Xiaojun. He always needed your attention and unlike normally, he wasn't getting it right now. His smile dropped and so did his excitement for the day.

Was this the end?

He knew that spending one week without each other would lead to more time for you to spend with your damn boyfriend but he didn't know it would lead to the end of your friendship.

No way he'd bail on the picnic plans.

Prince Junnie🦄

[can i pls come over? i bought fruits for u<33 i'm sure fruits is exactly what u need right now!!]

Prince Junnie🦄

[idc if i get sick or not bc i still wanna hang out w u]

Prince Junnie🦄

[pls 누나]

Sent 11:33

You had ignored him only once before and it was a horrible experience.

The way you ignored him (on accident) was so hurtful that he had to leave the gathering that he had looked forward to for so long, confusing the other guests, to go and lock himself in a bathroom so he could cry without bothering anyone. You'd gone right after him since you knew it wasn't very Xiaojun-like to leave a fun time for no reason. After you had knocked on the door and reassured him you were his best friend and not a random person coming to make fun of him, he let you in the bathroom.

The sight you were met by was his crumbling figure on the floor and overflowing tears on his cheeks. He had thought that you wanted nothing to do with him. Stupid you didn't see the obvious signs. It was because of the fact that you hadn't paid any attention to him that Xiaojun had gotten the idea that you had grown bored of him or that you wanted to leave him for Wonwoo (he hadn't told you the latter part, of course). And weeks later you did get together with Wonwoo. And that made him cry himself to sleep for days which you never knew.

How much your lack of attention and affection for Xiaojun had affected him was scary. And a fucking sign, you idiot. Nobody gets so worked up over the loss of affection of someone they view as a friend. Ever since that incident you'd made sure to always remind him of how much you value your friendship.

Except for today.

He thought he had made it clear enough to you that you never ever should ignore him unless you really meant It. Unless you really wanted to part ways. To go from the bestest friends to cold acquaintances. Some people might think it's crazy to be this attached to a best friend but you weren't just his best friend. You were his love and happiness. Without you he didn't have either.

Five minutes passed since he triple texted you and he still had no reply. Slowly he felt how his tummy was turning into knots and how his eyes started stinging.

Prince Junnie🦄

[ur making me worried]

Prince Junnie🦄

[hey!! text me so ik u didn't die from choking on strawberry milk 누나😰]

Prince Junnie🦄

[r u ignoring me?🫠]

Prince Junnie🦄

[unless u have corona, meet me by the river at 6 if u care abt me. i need to talk to u abt smth important]

Sent 12:04

If you didn't show up he knew for sure that you had left him behind forever. If you did show up then he'd confess to you. So spontaneously he couldn't keep his feelings away from you for another year because it wasn't healthy and he knew it. He knew he would have to tell you about his feelings sooner or later. And after being without you for a whole ass week and after experiencing the cruel punishment that is being ignored and even thinking you broke your dear friendship off, he knew the time had come for him to finally woman up and confess.

Whilst he was anxiously thinking through why he made such a bold move and possibly ruined any future he had with you, the girl he loved was being lazy and stuffing her face in pillows in front of a TV.

one season of Bojack Horseman later...

Tossed between blankets and an overflow of pillows, your tummy roared like a lion. You hadn't eaten anything yet. Maybe it was time to do something other than numbing your feelings with Netflix and the drinks you had at home? As you stood up you felt heavy. You had moved maximum 100 meters in the past few hours — to go to the bathroom, then kitchen and back to the living room — and it had taken a toll on your body physically.

Fuck.

You sat back down on your sofa and brought your phone to view after hours without it.

[6 new messages from Prince Junnie🦄]

Fuck. The last message was sent so long ago. You looked at your windows. It was dark outside. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. As fast as you physically could, you put on a pair of shoes and a jacket with your aching limbs.

In just a few minutes you were on your way to the closest bus station. The whole bus ride to the river was filled with thoughts putting you down. Your favorite person in the world was sensitive about this stuff and you hurt him. You were supposed to not let your bad mood affect anybody around you. But who were you kidding? Of course something had to go wrong with an idea you constructed and analyzed for four microseconds.

Before you knew it you had arrived at the destination. You were speed walking to the river. You two always went to the exact same spot by the river since it was usually vacant, by some miracle, and had a pretty view of a bridge.

You were naive enough to think that isolating yourself from your bestfriend and your phone would help solve your problems, so you were certainly naive enough to go and check if Xiaojun was still at your meeting place hours after you were supposed to meet him. What if he wasn't there? What if he was there?

The water was shimmering from the moonlight and next to it was a bench and an athletic, tall silhouette. Your eyes widened. Could it be...? Sniffles. That's the sound that came from their direction. You walked closer and could make out the lines of a figure that was all too familiar.

"Prince?"

The silhouette turned around and though it was dark you could see that it in fact was him. You quickly sat down beside him and noticed that a couple of notebooks were scattered on the ground next to a bike. You didn't know what to do, never having seen glad Xiaojun cry. After another particularly loud sniffle you turned your attention back to him. The light of the moon exposed the redness and tears on his face. For hours he'd been outside and his face was still wet with tears.

"Why are you still out at this hour?"

He choked on his tears and rested his face in his hands, "Because I'm a fool."

"No, you're not a—"

"Why are you here?" he interrupted you.

Touché.

"You told me to meet you if I care about you."

"You come here hours later as if I don't mean anything to you," he hurried out before his voice could crack.

"I'm sorry about that. But if I didn't care about you I wouldn't show up at all," you spoke with a soft tone. The last thing you wanted was to be harsh, especially since you were the reason your best friend was upset.

"Why did you do this to me, 누나?" he looked you in the eyes as if he'd find any answers inside them.

"I promise I didn't do it on purpose. I would never hurt you on purpose," you took his hands into yours, oblivious to how the simple gesture made Xiaojun a bit hopeful on the inside.

His hands were so cold it was shocking that he was shaking because of his crying and not because of the ice-like coldness. That's what happens when you're out for hours when there's no sun — or person — to keep you warm.

"I saw the messages 20 minutes ago and got here immediately. I would never purposely ignore you, Prince."

You made sure to use his nickname in almost every sentence you spoke, silently telling him that you don't want to fight. Slowly you brought his hands to your lips and kissed them lightly, five kisses on each hand for every finger. He looked at your lovely action and felt how his tears were slowing down. The kisses didn't make him warm — maybe for a second — but at least they made him feel somewhat better inside.

"I'm so, so sorry you had to be here in the cold," you apologized and kept his hands in yours as an attempt to warm them.

One part of Xiaojun wanted to continue being mad and make you feel bad for the hurt you'd caused him but the bigger part wanted you to hold him in your arms. He loved you and couldn't stay mad at you for long even if he tried.

"I-It's OK, 누나. At least you're here now," he whispered and looked at your locked hands, admiring the sight since it may never happen again — or maybe he should make sure his hands are cold more often—

You sent him a sorrowful smile and let his head rest on your shoulder, resting your own against it as an instinct, both from being comfortable and tired.

"From now on I will check if I have any texts every hour for you," you said with an exaggerated joking voice to lighten the mood.

He giggled. You weren't even being that funny but you were both tired and sad, so anything even a tiny bit funny was hilarious to both of you.

"What did you want to tell me before, Prince?" you whispered into his fluffy hair and petted it.

Should he tell you how he feels? Should he possibly ruin this? If he told you how he truly felt, would you ever kiss him hands like you did just now? Would you ever touch him this caringly ever again? Would you continue to call him Prince? Or would all of that be gone due to your loyalty to your sweet precious boyfriend Wonwoo?

For hours Xiaojun had been outside in the cold waiting for the love of his life so he could tell her the truth. But it took time before you, the love of his life, showed up. Too long.

When a person is alone outside with notebooks filled with blank pages to write feelings and stories in, it's easy to let emotions take over. He ended up writing around seven poems. Some poems were really cheesy and written in the spirit of the moment. Some didn't even rhyme. Some were a perfect description of where he was in him non-existent love life.

But they all had one thing in common.

They were melancholic and written from the point of view of a man who was hopelessly in love with his best friend.

"Nothing. I just wanted to have a picnic with you, 누나. I was just being dramatic to convince you to come despite feeling under the weather," he lied right through his teeth.

That made no sense because you two had never been on a picnic after sunset and Xiaojun would never lie to make you come see him. But you were tired and desperate to leave the cold outside, so you chuckled lightly, believing him immediately.

"Then where are the snacks?" you asked, confused since the only things around you were notebooks, a bike and water.

"I ate them."

Laughter filled the air; your genuine one and his fake one.

You put your face in his cheek, making him blush (not that you'd notice, since his cheeks were already red from before), "Well, my tummy is a little too thin right now, so let's go somewhere."

"In the middle of the night?" he questioned.

"Yes," you smiled against his cheek and he felt it, making him smile too.

"OK."

You both were still smiling when you were picking up all the notebooks to get ready for the ride. Jokes were thrown here and there. It was as if nothing had happened. You both knew it was a misunderstanding and you valued the friendship with the other too much to put energy into arguing. And you were tired too, so the argument wouldn't even be that epic even if you tried.

"What about your bike?"

"Oh nooo! The buses are always so full now that it's too late to take the subway!" Xiaojun whined.

"You know what? Since I was a jerk you can go take a warm bus while I ride in the cold," you said impulsively.

"B-But, 누나—" he smiled, flattered.

"B-But nothing," you interrupted him and sat down on the bike. Anyone who had spoken to you knew you were stubborn. He laughed. The little sadness he had left was gone by now. His cheeks were dry. Still red, but not from crying, now they were red from blushing.

"OK, whatever you say, 누나."

"You brought a transport card right?" you made sure since he came by bike.

"Yes I did~ See you in an hour, 누나," he winked at you and waved with a smile brighter than the moon before running to the bus that just arrived.

You waved back to him and got ready to bike — you definitely needed a head start. But before you started you couldn't help but see something white standing out in the darkness.

It was another one of Xiaojun's notebooks. You must've been too tired to notice it when you were picking them up. Thankfully the notebook was open or else you wouldn't have noticed it as it had a dark cover. You took it into your hands. To make sure it really was Xiaojun's you needed to read at least a snippet.

You prayed it was Xiaojun's because it would be worse if you read a stranger's private thoughts than your best friend's since you already knew all him secrets. The snippet was Xiaojun's. It was from one of the pages of poems that didn't rhyme, that was very cheesy but depicted how sappy he was feeling and also told him part of the story that you never knew.

I want to feel my best friend's lips on my lips

I want, more than anything, her to call me HER Prince

You drop the book on the grass. So that's what he wanted to tell you.

48 notes · View notes

lucuslavigne · 5 months ago

Text

Como eu acho que o WayV reagiria a leitora tendo uma crise.

WayV!Namorados × Leitora!Autista.

experiências pessoais servem para conteúdo sim 🥹☝🏻

Kun:

Kun ficaria assustado ao ver você se batendo. Nunca havia presenciado um momento assim, então ficou desesperado, com medo de que você se machucasse.

Acabou que aconteceu mesmo, você se machucou. De tanto bater em seus ouvidos, eles acabaram sangrando e te causando mais dor.

Quando te levou ao hospital, ficou sentindo uma culpa imensa. Sentia que não havia conseguido cuidar de você. Desde então ele aprende tudo o que pode para poder te dar o suporte necessário.

Ten:

Chittaphon perceberia que você estaria meio estranha, logo ele ficaria mais atento, sabendo que algo não estava certo.

Quando te viu sentada no chão, com as pernas em W, se arranhando ao ponto de várias linhas de sangue começarem a se formar, ele se sentou na sua frente, segurou suas mãos e juntou as testas de vocês.

Ficou ali, apanhou vez ou outra, mas não saiu do seu lado até que você se acalmasse e conseguisse reorganizar seus pensamentos. Depois de tudo, te ajudou a limpar o sangue e te fez curativos, dando um beijinho na sua cabeça quando se sentaram para assistirem Bob Esponja juntos <3

Winwin:

Winwin notaria você andando de um lado para o outro, mas não como você faz normalmente. Você parecia... Perturbada com algo. Tentou falar com você, mas sem sucesso, o que fez com que ele ficasse perdido.

Só foi perceber que você estava tendo uma crise quando a Bella andou até você e começou a te lamber. Foi aí que ele foi até você e te deu um abraço apertado.

Depois que você se acalmou, ele pediu desculpas por não ter percebido sua crise antes, e te deu um selinho demorado.

Xiaojun:

Este homem é formado em você 🫵🏻 saberia que você estava tendo uma crise só pelo som dos seus passos pela casa.

Iria até você e te sentaria no sofá com ele, fazendo massagem nos seus braços enquanto estão em completo silêncio. Afinal ele sabia que você precisava por os pensamentos no lugar.

Quando viu que você começou a chorar, te abraçaria fortemente e ficaria o tempo que fosse necessário alí. Quando você se acalmou e decidiu contar para ele o que havia acontecido, ele se sentiu a pessoa mais sortuda do mundo. Ele amou saber que você confia tanto nele ao ponto de compartilhar algo tão íntimo.

Hendery:

Não ia perceber sua crise de primeira. Só ia perceber quando escutasse seus murmúrios. Ele perguntaria se poderia ajudar, mas quando viu que não teria resposta, apenas foi até você e te sentou no chão, se sentando na sua frente.

Ficou de mãos dadas com você enquanto escutava você falar sozinha, para ter certeza que não começaria a se bater.

Quando viu que você já estava calma, perguntou se queria comer alguma coisa. No final a cozinha ficou uma bagunça por conta de vocês <3

Yangyang:

O coitadinho ia ficar desesperado quando escutasse o primeiro barulho de tapa. Ia ir correndo atrás de você, vendo a marca que você havia feito em seu rosto.

Te abraçaria com força, levando todos os tapas em seu lugar, sem reclamar em nenhum momento. Teve um momento que ele chorou enquanto implorava para você não se machucar.

Quando você finalmente já estava calma e viu como ele ficou, começou a chorar junto com ele enquanto pedia desculpas. No final vocês deitaram na cama para pararem de chorar, mas acabaram dormindo agarradinhos <3

#๑ pensamentos da madrugada #wayv kun #wayv ten #wayv winwin #wayv xiaojun #wayv hendery #wayv yangyang #wayv scenarios #wayv reactions #wayv angst #kpop #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #wayv #nct wayv #Spotify

44 notes · View notes

ronjunnie · 7 months ago

Text

XIAOJUN FIC RECOMMENDATIONS

SERIES

ONESHOTS

sleepless cinderella: dejun (14.4k) @starlightkun

love in a major key (11.6k) @dropsofletters

forever yours (6.1k) @whereisten

blazed (m) (5.4k) @odentist

the tech guy (2.3k) @butterbeeryuta

cherry flavored kisses (2k) @deardejun

puppy love (2k) @raibebe

TIMESTAMPS

70 notes · View notes

imnotjaesblog · 4 months ago

Text

Chef’s Kiss

Starring: Xiaojun

Warnings: Suggestive, and a bit smutty. The reader is female.

For my Xiaojun girlies.

This was also a draft I was holding onto.

Words: 500

Enjoy;)

Xiaojun loved to cook. His whole life was spent tasting different meals and recreating them in his kitchen. As he grew older he was top of his class in culinary school. Cooking the finest meals and eventually landed a job at one of the top restaurants in Seoul as head chef.

He spent hours on dedication to his craft. He had cooked, fried, and boiled any dish you could imagine. He was the best. Xiaojun was known for his perfect taste buds and his exquisite scent to spot delicacy dishes. One of those delicacy dishes is you.

The restaurant doors were locked and shut down for the rest of the night. The only lights that remained on were the main area of the restaurant where you sat. Everyone went home and like normal Xiaojun stood behind to perfect the newest plate they’d add to the dessert menu, Soufflé.

However, you had showed up after being invited to try his soufflé. It tasted as good as it smelled. Everything about the soufflé was perfect. The texture, the taste, and even the presentation were always spot on. You weren’t supposed to, Xiaojun had an eye for ideal presentation. Especially when it came to food. Xiaojun brought the spoon up to your lips for you to try. You hummed savoring the chocolate flavor. It was truly delicious.

Not too long after he had you spread on the table legs wide while he buried his face between your thighs sucking on your clit and swallowing your juices. Tongue swirling around your bundle of nerves tasting every bit of you. You were his favorite flavor. His tongue worked fast fingers thrusting into from below. He hummed against your pussy his nose rubbing against your clit. Taking in the sweet scent of your core.

You moaned loudly head falling back. Elbows propped and holding you up on the table. “Fuck,” you cursed looking down and seeing Xiaojun move his fingers from inside you to his mouth. Tongue replacing his fingers after he sucked them clean. He closed his eyes enjoying your taste.

He pulled back licking his lips. Some of your juices drizzled down his chin. He licked it humming at the taste. Eyed hung looking into your smirk on his lips. He leaned closer to you inches from your lips.

You wrapped your arms around his neck. Eyes twinkling as they looked into his. You jerked your neck. “Tell me how I taste,” you asked. He looked down at your thighs and then back at you. Little black hairs fell to his forehead.

“Sweet,” he said placing a gentle peck on your lips. “Savory,” he said placing another on your lips. You giggled. His hands fell to your waist pulling you closer. He stood directly between your legs. You could feel his hardened dick through his pants.

“My favorite meal,” he said a small smirk on his lips. He pulled you close engulfing his lips with yours in a passionate kiss. Ready to completely devour you.

The End ;)

Hope you enjoyed it! Xiaojun is my WayV bias so it was about time I wrote something for him.

See you soon;)

51 notes · View notes

dollechan · 4 months ago

Text

❝ Eu estou na sua frente. ❞

𖥔 ₊ ֗angst, termino recente, participação de alguns membros do wayv, acho que tem mais fala que os outros capítulos.

a/n: pobre xiao

Dejun realmente não entendia. Se perguntava se a namorada dele era tão superficial assim.

Talvez ela fosse.

Ele entra no bar, cabisbaixo, e encontra Kun em uma mesa junto de Hendery. A companhia dos amigos nunca foi tão necessária quanto agora. Se cumprimentam, pedem mais bebidas e então Dery fala: – 'Cê não vai falar pra gente porque tá aqui em uma plena sexta? Tu não ia ficar com tua namorada não?

O Xiao bebe mais do soju, sentindo a bebida queimar a garganta antes de resmungar um "a gente terminou". Ele queria muito, mas muito mesmo que Kun não perguntasse o por quê, o motivo e quando foi que isso aconteceu.

Dejun estava sofrendo, não queria falar sobre. Mas eles insistem.

– A gente terminou. – Enche o copo de novo, bebe mais um pouco. Quer afogar a mágoa na bebida, quem sabe até desmaiar. Hendery parece atônito com a notícia, nunca imaginou que o amigo que amava tanto aquela garota tinha terminado.

– Mas por que? Vocês eram tão… – Kun não termina quando vê o olhar do mais novo. Parece vazio, frio.

– Redes sociais ou sei lá. – Os amigos não entendem como alguém poderia terminar por causa de redes sociais, nem mesmo Xiaojun entendeu o por quê. Não a traía por nenhum aplicativo de mensagem, não seguia nenhuma mulher que não fossem da sua família ou amigas próximas do casal e muito menos via fotos de mulheres aleatórias por aí.

– Que doido. – Kun fala bebendo mais da própria bebida, e Hendery evita falar alguma besteira.

E assim a noite de bebedeira continua. Recebem uma ligação de Ten um tempo depois; enquanto o Wong tenta acalmar um Xiao chorão, Kun tenta convencer o outro amigo para ir buscar os três no bar.

Na casa do tailandês, Xiaojun acorda de madrugada, perto do amanhecer. Resolve ficar na varanda e assistir o sol nascer.

Mente vazia, mas ainda pensa em você. Lembra da briga sem sentido. – Você deveria ser meu amigo aqui também! – Ela dizia, a rede social aberta no celular.

– Mas eu 'tô na sua frente. – Ele falava, mas ela não parecia escutar.

Então parou e percebeu você sempre foi fútil e tudo não passava de uma historinha de amor do Facebook.

#GET BLONDED 👱‍♀️#xiaojun #xiaojun wayv #xiaojun nct #wayv #nct #xiaojun x reader #xiaojun angst #xiaojun scenarios #wayv x reader #wayv angst #wayv scenarios #nct x reader #nct scenarios #nct fanfic #nct angst #nct imagines

30 notes · View notes

viasdreams · 21 days ago

Text

┈━ ◇ ━┈

dealing with xiaojun’s overbearing parents

◇ this is part 2, you can read part 1 here !!

a/n: i love men with prominent eyebrows oh ma lawd

fake text m.list ☁︎⋅

222 notes · View notes

swee7dream · 4 months ago

Text

care for a sweet treat ?

swee7dream's 威神V masterlist . last updated : jul 17, 2024

all members

wayv as agere caregivers — bulletpoints

genres : agere content, fluff . warnings : none . summary : how i think the visions would be as caregivers to an age regressor !

qian kun

nothing yet... maybe request something ?

li yongqin

scaredy cat — one-shot ( requested + work in progress )

genres : agere content, fluff . warnings : to be determined . summary : "...i just think that ten would be like the bestest cg EVER !?! like omg WAIT meeting his cats for the first time but the baby is kinda scared ? id love anything with cg!ten but like literally hear me out on this one.. let me cook..."

dong sicheng

nothing yet... maybe request something ?

xiao dejun

nothing yet... maybe request something ?

wong kunhang

nothing yet... maybe request something ?

liu yangyang

babbles of the night — one-shot ( requested + work in progress )

genres : agere content, fluff, comfort . warnings : to be determined . summary : "could u write ab cg yangyang w a little reader w trouble sleeping... ( mayhaps w baby reader but irdm the age range )"

19 notes · View notes

haechanhues · 5 months ago

Text

THE SERIAL LOVER

in which a girl farewells every boy she’s ever loved (or at least had romantic feelings for) in order to prove that her feelings for one particular boy are very real and unwavering.

chapter twenty three : xiao dejun

masterlist | prev | next

taglist : @matchahyuck @haisuken @dinonuguaegi @90s-belladonna @ahnneyong @liliansun

#kflixnet #nct fic #nct social au #wayv social au #wayv fic #nct smau #wayv smau #nct scenarios #xiaojun scenarios #xiaojun imagines #nct x reader #wayv x reader #xiaojun x reader #xiaojun smau #wayv fluff #nct fluff #xiaojun angst #wayv angst #nct angst

20 notes · View notes

k-rising · 1 year ago

Text

Xiaojun as boyfriend

Romantic aspects

let's start by saying that this man is such a boyfriend material

xiaojun will confess to you once he's sure that you feel the same way as him. cause, let's be honest here... once you first met, he'll probably become so shy around you

I also think that he will leave clues about how he feels than saying it to you directly

but once you are in a relationship with him, you'll have so much fun with this dude

I'm picturing him dedicating you songs

making a playlist with songs that reminds him of you

and, of course, he will tease the hell out of you <3

xiaojun is a gentleman and will be a very attentive boyfriend who will treat you like a princess/prince

you'll be his number one priority

he'll be so generous and funny with you

this dude doesn't mind doing ridiculous things, if he's able to make you smile then he'll be satisfied of his work

I'm visualizing him bringing you breakfast to bed

touching your hair until you fall asleep in his lap or in his chest

he'll probably make a song about you and how much he loves you :')

xiaojun's love language are acts of service, words of affirmation and physical touch

let me tell you... this man's clingy af

he also loves cuddling you !!!

although xiaojun likes when a relationship is reciprocate, he tends to give more than what he receives

I get the feeling that he can get jealous, but tries to hide it so that you don't tease him about it

When he gets angry

xiaojun doesn't get easily angry, specially with you... but if you do make him really mad, good luck with that, cause he can get pretty scary

specially if you hurt his pride in some way

sometimes he can get quite immature if you don't do certain things for him

he can also be quite unpredictable when he's mad. one day he doesn't talk to you at all, the next day he'll make a drama and other day he'll act like nothing has happened :)

but one thing is for sure, this man is loyal af and he expects you to be loyal as well. if you ever betray him, he'll never forgive you

‧͙⁺˚･༓☾　𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑜 𝑚𝑢𝑐ℎ 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔! 　☽༓･˚⁺‧͙

#xiaojun #xiao dejun #wayv #nct #xiaojun astrology #xiaojun imagines #xiaojun angst #wayv angst #wayv imagines #wayv astrology #nct astrology #nct angst #nct imagines

139 notes · View notes

noramoons · 1 year ago

Text

renounced | x.dj

summary: your life as the eldest child in the royal family is simple: follow everything you’ve been told, without complaint. the game is easy—until you meet xiao dejun, who shows you that you may not have to play their game at all.

pairing: prince!xiaojun x gender neutral!royal reader

genre: angst with a happy ending (?)

wc: 4k

rating: T/15+

warnings: unspecified time period, historical inaccuracies, brief mention of religious analogies, implied suggestive content, language, not proofread (😧)

a/n: happy xiaojun day! :D (me, finishing a fic on time?? 🤯🤯) hope u enjoy this little one-shot. i’m sure there are MAJOR historical inaccuracies for the politics depictions in this - feel free to leave any feedback or concrit you might have!

This is the last time.

It's like a mantra. You repeat it to yourself, over and over, starting the sentence over with every other stairstep you reach.

This is the last time. It has to be.

Of course, you said that the last time, too.

Prince Dejun has been a fixture in your life for nearly as long as you can remember. And for a long time—you hated remembering.

His family's kingdom had brought yours to the brink of annihilation in war—a long, terrible, stupid war that your nation had been comically unprepared for. The Xiao family had industrialized their military years before your father's generals even began to think about the idea, studying and honing in their technological advances to the point that when they finally brought their army to your doorstep, your father had no choice but to kneel. Can it really be called war if the other side never even stands a chance?

You had hated Xiao Dejun, then. Hated the very idea of him and his entire family. Hated that they had been so generous as to allow your family to stay in their palace for a month while yours was being rebuilt, him and his brothers running through the halls with gleeful abandon while you and your younger siblings had to restrain yourselves at all times. You always had to be poised and patient, silent unless spoken to—the perfect guests for who you saw as little more than your captors.

It was several years later before your father's advisors began whispering again, hushed murmurs that gradually tumbled their way down to your eavesdropping ears—not of war this time, but of the future. Of building future alliances with the very nation that had nearly decimated your home.

And you, as the eldest child, were the perfect sacrificial lamb.

You had felt just as much, too, the night of your first outing with the prince. You would be supervised, of course, but you still found yourself unable to shake the feeling as the servants dressed you quietly, whispering to each other when they thought you couldn't hear. Like they were preparing a stuffed pig for a feast.

You'd dreaded every step down the main stairwell of your newly rebuilt home, clinging to the marble railing that you were sure was just as cold and unforgiving as the prince waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs (Completely unlike the way you are currently racing up a flight of stairs, heart growing lighter with each step).

You had been surprised, then, when Dejun had taken your gloved hand in his—it turned out he was warm flesh and blood, after all.

He'd engaged in perfectly polite, yet expected small talk all throughout the main entryway and into the gate outside. It wasn't until you reached that first step outside, the furthest you'd been away from home in months, that he had squeezed your hand and dropped his voice into an octave that sounded much more familiar to the Dejun you had seen briefly in his home.

"Do you trust me?"

You were taken aback by the question—but you certainly weren't a liar. "No."

He'd laughed at that—a light, airy sound escaping past his lips that you thought had no right to come from a devil. "I thought as much. I would've been surprised if you'd said so." Something glinted in his eyes. "Can you give me a chance to change your mind?"

What on Earth was he talking about? The two of you were only supposed to wander the gardens until dusk—that was what your governess had said. "Why would I do that?"

A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth—you thought, for an absentminded moment, how seemingly perfect his teeth were. What a strange thing to notice. "Because it'll get us away from the eyes of your governess."

Your own eyes widened. "What are you talking about? I—" I hadn't even noticed she was out here, you'd wanted to say. You had spun around, looking intently for somewhere she must have been hiding—she couldn't have been that inconspicuous if Dejun had noticed her already.

He'd squeezed your hand again, warm fingers still intertwined with yours. "I spoke with the stablehand before coming to call on you. He said he would leave a horse tied just outside the gates." He paused. "It's up to you, of course. Your Highness." He dropped your hand only to cross it across his chest in a mock serene bow, and you had bit onto your own tongue, hard, to keep a laugh from escaping you at the sight.

You had tried to weigh the consequences in your mind, but the thought of freedom was just as alluring as it always had been under the watchful eye of seemingly everyone else in the palace you'd grown up with. Even if it came with a price of momentary companionship with Xiao Dejun.

"We..." you had started. "We have to be back by sunset. No later."

He had grinned and taken your hand, running with you close behind, helping you mount the horse when you did, in fact, find one tied just outside the palace gates—and giving you the first taste, if only for an hour, of what real freedom might feel like.

You were chased down by your governess and a slightly bruised stablehand before the sun had even begun to set, but you and Dejun had talked, lying on your backs in an empty field miles away from the palace, for what felt like hours. It was then that you learned he cared practically nothing for politics, that he had no plans to be king the way his father had ruled. You discovered, through a series of conversations, that he wanted so much more for his life—to not be tied to something he hadn't chosen for himself. You'd never forget for the rest of your life how his eyes shone that evening, how they sparkled as he listened to you, and how he talked about the life he wanted with such excitement. He wanted to learn how to walk across a trapeze, or become a traveling musician, to sail across the world with a band of pirates—he wanted to at least have options. To be able to choose something for himself, something that was only his.

That glass facade you had built in your head of him shattered. He was so, so much like you, in every way you had never imagined.

Your governess gave you an earful when you were dragged back to the palace that night, but you could barely find it in yourself to care. Dejun had planted a dangerous seed in your brain—the idea of getting to choose.

While your father wasn't entirely pleased with the events of your first outing with Prince Dejun, his advisors still believed it would be a beneficial match for the future of the kingdom—so you were allowed to continue your courtship with the prince.

With every meeting, you found your affection for the worldview he had given you growing. You were allowed to let yourself want for the first time. You wanted the ability to choose what you did with your life. You wanted to see what the rest of the world looked like outside of your room in the palace.

You wanted Dejun. And he wanted you, too.

But perhaps that grasp of freedom was something you didn't deserve. After all—at the end of the day, there wasn't truly any aspect of your life's path that you chose yourself. Even the idea of freedom was ludicrous. Everything was preordained for your life by the same gods (who you had been told since birth) that had put your father on the throne—to say or do otherwise was simply unthinkable. Heresy. A refusal of everything you had been put on this planet to do.

It had clearly been too long since you had any reminders of that fact—and so your father's advisors, moods changing like the tides of the ocean, provided you with one.

Your kingdom and the Xiaos found themselves in a trade standoff—the Xiao kingdom had the grain your kingdom so desperately needed after his soldiers had burned your farmlands down to the soil, but your father's advisors refused to pay what the Xiaos were demanding. They could get grain and cattle at a much lower price from the Qian kingdom to the south—not nearly as militarily advanced as the Xiaos, but a longtime ally of your father's, and a royal family with a son your age.

One too many insults were exchanged between families over tense negotiations—and so your courtship with Dejun was called off. Replaced with a hurried engagement to the prince of the Qian family, a man you'd never met.

And yet—you couldn't burn the roots of what Dejun had planted in you. Now more than ever, you wanted that freedom Dejun had promised you. You wanted the ability to lash out about this choice made for you, to scream at your uncaring father who only saw you as a political pawn to be used for the betterment of the nation.

But what could you do? You had been raised in a calculating way—everything you did was politics. Every choice you made was a stepping stone for your future—and not just yours. The future of your family, your lineage, your nation rested on your shoulders as the next in line for the throne. Who were you to just cast that aside? Run away with nothing but the hope Dejun would follow you? Would he follow you?

There was still a positive outcome, albeit a small one—you learned that while your relationship with Dejun had been broken for you, your kingdom's alliance with the Xiao family was not entirely lost. It was damaged enough to not want your families permanently intertwined, but not enough to go to war again—or more importantly to your circumstance, not damaged enough that their invitations to your family's yearly galas with the surrounding kingdoms had been rescinded.

A full year passed by the time your family hosted another gala, and it took all the self restraint you had mustered within you to not rush across the ballroom and hold him impossibly close to you when you finally, finally locked your gaze onto Dejun again for the first time in a year. You saw the way his eyes lit up when he saw you from the top of the staircase—the same way you had seen them shine all those years ago, when he had first introduced that damned idea of freedom into your stupidly impressionable mind. You wondered if anyone else in the ballroom could hear how loud your heart was pounding.

It took almost the entire evening, dancing with several other princes and high-ranking officials (the ones your advisors had informed you to charm for potential future alliances) before you were finally able to drag Dejun out of the ballroom, unnoticed, and into a nearby corridor.

You stared at each other for a moment. Then two.

Dejun whispered your name, as if saying it too loud would shatter the moment you've given him.

"I've missed you," you said. Ever the careful, political one—you'd ached with how much your mind and soul had missed Dejun, but you couldn't tell him that. What if he didn't feel the same? What if he didn't want to be seen with you, now that you were engaged to someone else? What if—

He leaned across, cupping your cheek in one hand and pressing his lips to yours in one singular, fluid motion.

Once again—Dejun had presented you with an opportunity you hadn't even thought of yourself. You had seen a door at the end of a hallway and thought it to be the only exit—and Dejun had shown you how to escape through a window.

The next two years of galas were the same—on one night a year, you'd entertain guests for hours, dancing until your feet were sore and mind swirling as you tried to remember everyone's name and affiliation and rank. None of it mattered once everyone retired to their guest suites, preparing for a long day of travel tomorrow, and you were free to slip away and spend the long hours of the night, unnoticed, with Dejun.

Each time, you heard a rock at your window as you were preparing for bed, and each time, you knew what it meant. You'd look outside to see a shining pair of eyes in the darkness, holding a single candle and beckoning you to follow. You'd end the evening as far away from the palace as you could get, tangled in Dejun's limbs underneath the moonlight, the two of you only pulling your cloaks back on and hurrying back in giggles when the first rays of morning sunlight were beginning to rise.

It's what you're doing now—heart racing as you ascend the final stair and make your way to the balcony before you. But this time will be different, you know. It has to be.

You're getting married next month to Prince Kun. You should have cut this tryst off before it even began—you know it will only continue to cause you and Dejun both heartache and suffering. And from what you hear, his own father's advisors have been hard at work finding an engagement for Dejun. It won't be long before you're both encumbered with marital duties.

All of this is at the tip of your tongue to tell him—and then he turns around from the balcony railing.

The moon frames his dark hair like a halo, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he sees you walking towards him—and oh, gods, how could you ever tell him anything of the sort? When he's running a soft hand through your hair and he's pulling your lips to his, when you're closing your eyes against him and letting him glide a hand down to the small of your back and press his chest to yours—when you're tasting freedom on his lips, how could you ever take that away?

But the thought still haunts you when you're lying on your back beside him, miles away from the palace and watching the stars glitter in the sky above you. You know why neither of you have discussed the fact that you're engaged to Kun, that you'll be living in a palace in an entirely different kingdom after next month. Admitting that you need to have a discussion, after all, feels like admitting that this has to end.

Dejun stirs beside you—you had thought he was asleep. You turn on your side to look at him.

He smiles when he sees your face, and you can't fight a smile from tugging at your own lips. How can you give this up? "This is it," he says, suddenly, and you feel your stomach lurch—of course he'd be the one to acknowledge this. "Isn't it?"

"What do you mean?" you say, quietly—but the quiver in your voice betrays that you know his meaning all too well.

Dejun reaches across and intertwines his fingers with yours, bringing your connected hands up to his lips as he kisses each fingertip. "Did you want to never discuss it? To lie with me here, and then never see me again?"

You frown. "Of course not. But I don't exactly know how—"

"Run away with me," he says suddenly. "They'll never find us. We can go to the ends of the earth."

You laugh at how abrupt he is. "They'd find us, Dejun. Your father owns the greatest military in the world, and my father has spies on every inch of this continent. We'd never make it across either border."

He's insistent. "We have to try. I told you, all those years ago, that I want to be able to choose something for my life, something that's only mine. It's you, Y/N. I don't care where we are or what we're doing—I can't stand to be apart from you anymore."

His words strike your heart like daggers, but you still shake your head slowly—grabbing the hilt and driving the daggers in further yourself. "It's too late. Don't you see? It's not just my family that's depending on my choices now—the Qians are too. I can't turn my back on this anymore by just running away."

"And who decides that?" He shoots back. "None of this has been up to you. Don't you think you deserve a chance to choose a life for yourself?"

You don't know why it's never occurred to you before. It's a fantasy—all of this. Ever since the moment your courtship with Dejun was called off years ago, you've been in a child's delusion. The real world calls now, with all of its accompanying rules and responsibilities—you have no place allowing yourself to stay in this illusion anymore. There has to be another universe, a different life where the two of you were smart enough to never do anything this stupid, but it isn't this one. There's no substance to you and Dejun. "And in that life, I would do what? Continue to be a once-a-year tryst to you? Do you..." You take a sharp breath. "Do you love me, Dejun?"

He looks like you've stung him with your words—maybe you have. "You know how I feel about you, Y/N, I—"

"Can you say it?" Part of you is screaming internally for giving him an ultimatum like this, for probably ripping away the only respite you've ever had from your life in a cage—but you know that if you don't do it, it'll be done for you. Just like everything else.

"I..." he trails off, and you find yourself utterly afraid for what he might have said—because it might have convinced you.

And then he inhales again. Clenches his jaw. "Goodnight, Y/N."

Your heart sinks, but you swallow down the self-induced disappointment. "Goodnight, Dejun."

You don't think either of you sleep much that night. You watch the sun rise on the horizon hours later—beautiful, cheerful shades of pinks and oranges that are a perfect contrast to the knots of worry you can feel brewing in your stomach.

As you and Dejun hurry back (in silence) to the south side of the palace, you begin to slow at the gate behind the gardens. In the past, you've always stopped here to say your goodbyes before heading back into the palace on your own separate ways, as to not arouse suspicion.

Dejun never stops. He never even begins to slow down his walking pace. Instead, you watch him walk past you, through the gardens and into the side door into the scullery—and now you really can't shake this feeling that you've made a massive, unchangeable mistake.

You remember how much you once hated him—how to even hear the name Xiao Dejun made your stomach twist. Now, you think, you'd give anything to hear his name announced in the same room as you. And it may never happen again.

The month that follows your engagement with Qian Kun goes by in a blur. The wedding preparations, the attire, the food for the guests—it's all chosen for you, anyway, so why should you care? You silently mourn the loss of all things good and routine in your life that you'd come to cherish before—including Dejun.

The wedding itself is a different experience—mostly because you don't feel like you're even really there. Everything is just as you had rehearsed the day before; your father walks you down the aisle in full royal regalia. You stand beside Kun and recite your perfectly memorized vows. You touch your lips to his.

It’s a game, all of it—and you’ve been told every move to play.

You don't eat much at the reception, and your new husband seems to notice. He asks if you're not feeling well, if you need to leave early—and as much as you know you need to stay to keep up appearances, to maintain the alliances your father's advisors have so carefully crafted for you with this marriage—you can't help but nod yes.

Kun is too kind for his own good, you think. He briefly shows you around the royal wing of your new home, where you'll presumably be staying for the rest of your life, before opening the door to the bedroom at the end of the corridor. You expect him to follow you inside, so you're surprised when he moves to open the door again to leave.

He turns around, a small smile of understanding on his mouth. "I'll see you in the morning, Your Highness. When you're feeling better." He hesitates for only a brief moment before adding, "You don't have to keep up appearances around me. I hope you know that."

You don't know that, in all honesty—but you smile and nod gratefully anyway.

You let yourself sit in the silence of your room for a long while, comfortable with it in contrast to the loud reception you can still hear ongoing downstairs. You think about calling for help on undressing out of your royal wedding attire, but the thought of being alone is still far more appealing, even if it takes you an hour to get out of all these layers.

You've only undone two buttons when you hear a thump on the floor, right below the open window. It's a rock, you realize in disbelief as you bend down to take a closer look. You hold it under the candlelight, and you finally recognize the familiar scrawled ink across the surface.

I love you.

You lean over the window, heart pounding so loud you can hear it rushing in your ears—and you see him. He hasn't even dismounted from the horse he must have ridden to the castle on, one hand still clutching the reins, other hand waving in the air to catch your attention.

Dejun's face lights up when he sees you, and you suddenly feel that same lightness in your chest the instant you see it. Like you'd never even left his side.

You grab the candle on your nightstand and bring it by the window to see him better, and it's then that you begin to hear what he's been saying—not yelling, thankfully, to ensure any wedding goers won't hear. But you don't even think you'd mind now, as you lean further out of the window and finally hear it from his own lips.

I love you.

You think about what he said only a month ago, an echo of the things he'd said to you when you were younger. That you deserve to choose.

You think that while there is a lifetime where you were smart enough to never do anything this stupid, there must also be another where you are brave enough to run away—to be in love, to choose with your own mind to leave behind everything you've known for each other. For something that you both know would last.

Maybe there's a part of you that thinks that lifetime can be this one—that they're one and the same. That some part of you still longs to be that foolish, and that brave.

You cup your hands around your mouth and call down to him—your answer to tonight's unspoken question.

I love you too.

a/n: feedback is always welcome through reblogs, comments, and messages 💛 thank you sm for reading!

taglist: @petrichor-han @kangroo-chan @ot7lonelylover @lilacdreams-00 @mainexiii @awkwardnesshabitat @lotus-dly @elizabeth11moreno @nerdysl-t @seung-scrittore

122 notes · View notes