#xiaojun horror

[sugaringinnie]

The road is ever going,

Phycological horror/unreliable narrator

Word count: 561

Tags: WayV ensemble, Blood, Disassociation, Hendery-centric, Metaphors, On the run, Murder.

Characters: Hendery, Kun.

-

The road is ever going. The sky is falling out into little pieces of white that the cold wind takes in it's path. He can't feel his nose, but Kun insists on keeping the window open even when he's not smoking.

Hendery wants to complain, but Kun has been too quiet, shaky fingers gripping the wheel. — His knuckles are almost as red as his eyes, though not from the cold. Hendery knows this because he knows Kun.—

They haven't stopped once since Kun started the car. Hendery doesn't want to ask, but he has to. Because an hour ago Kun had a fight with Ten and now they're on a road trip to god knows where.

But Kun stays silent and so does Hendery.

The road is ever going. The sky is falling out into little pieces of white that the cold wind takes in it's path. He can see his breath, but Kun insists on leaving the window open because there's a stench that makes them both want to throw up.

He is too afraid to ask Kun about it. So he holds his own legs until it hurts.

They are far from home, in a place near here and there, Hendery has seen trees for miles, stretching endlessly up almost touching the stars, and to the sides with thick trunks. Kun hasn't said a word to him. He just looks at him carefully out of the corner of his eye when he thinks the younger one isn't looking.

The road is ever going. The sky is falling out into little pieces of white that the cold wind takes in it's path.

Kun is gone. He tired to protect him and he lost anyways. It's a joy that Hendery has felt before, when Xiaojun left, when Yangyang left. But it can't go on like this. He doesn't feel happy, he can't because his friends aren't there.

There's no one to drive the car, and Hendery doesn't want to go back there either, the dirt and the reminder that he's alone now it's too present in the vehicle.

Hendery is shaking and gasping for breath as he walks, his clothes wet and dripping red onto the night blooms that decorate the forest floor. He doesn't know what trapped Kun, the ecosystem too dense to see properly but it seems to be the same thing that got Ten and the others.

He needs to wash his clothes, he has to get rid of them. His clothes are too heavy on him crusted with dirt and blood, he waits for a lake, perhaps, to get rid of the scent Sicheng and Lucas left on him hours ago but he's not far into the woods yet, though it feels like it. He knows this because there's a swing that seems to taunt him, barely there with its ties loose and broken. The same one he saw when Kun stopped the car with a cry of pain.

Hendery is shaking and breathing so hard that he's afraid he won't be able to keep up any longer. He's running and running and running.

Something is chasing him and he doesn't know if it's real or if the blood on his hands is his own doing.

He's scared. But the road is ever going and he has to keep running or he will die with the others.

[sluttyten]

toying with you

Kinktober Masterlist | Xiaojun Masterlist | Member Masterlist

tags: magical dildo, masturbation, cumming untouched, blowjobs, getting caught(?), voyeurism

length: 2973 words

Rather early on in the relationship, you’d revealed to Xiaojun the truth about you. You were a witch. Not the stereotypical spooky kind of witch illustrated in Halloween decorations and horror movies. You described it to him as being like a Harry Potter kind of witch, to which Xiaojun had immediately begun asking you Harry Potter related questions to gauge exactly what you meant. 

What you meant was that you were raised in a family of magic-users. All the women in your family were witches, all the men were wizards.

Magic was an everyday part of your life growing up, and you were homeschooled with your siblings and some of the other magical kids in your town until you reached your early teen years when you went away to a magical boarding school to learn more about your magic, to learn to control it and enhance it. So quite a lot like the Harry Potter series but without the evil wizards trying to disrupt the school year, and to your eternal disappointment (and Xiaojun’s, once you tell him) dragons still aren’t real. 

So he knows about your incredible magical powers. Xiaojun knows and frequently takes advantage of the opportunities that having a magical partner presents him. 

The power of invisibility, the power to teleport yourself from one place to the next, to summon things. You can clone things exactly. You can send him secret messages that no one else has the ability to read. Once you performed a spell that let you both share a dream, which had led to some pretty crazy and otherwise impossible sex. 

Sometimes the magic makes it easier when you’re doing long distance — when he’s traveling with the members for tour or whatever — or even when he’s just super busy with schedules and you never get any time together. 

But the easiest and best thing about your magic is when you make a magical replica of Xiaojun’s dick. 

He came over to your place very late one night after a long, exhausting schedule. As he stepped fresh and warm and damp from the shower to snuggle into bed with you, wrapping you in his arms, he’d apologized that he was gone so often. “I’m sorry, baby. I know I’m not taking care of you like I should.” 

You hardly ever got time together while he was working on their upcoming album release, and during what little time you got, he was too tired to want to have sex. You understood. That’s what your favorite toys were for, but it’s just not the same as having your boyfriend inside you, a flesh and blood hard penis. Your silicone toys just can’t satisfy you in the same way. 

“I’m sorry,” Xiaojun apologizes again, yawning sleepily, not even able to open his eyes. “You deserve more than just your toys. As soon as this album is finished I’m locking myself in here with you, and no one is allowed to disturb us until we can’t take anymore of each other.” 

He smiles still without opening his eyes when you kiss his cheek. “Wouldn’t it be nice if there were two of you? One of you could go to work, and the other could stay here with me, fuck me right, let me take you out on dates.”

Xiaojun hums pleasantly. “Or you at least wish I could leave my cock behind?”

You laugh, and comb your fingers through his hair. “That would be interesting. Use it like a toy while you’re away.”

“Sounds like fun, baby.” Xiaojun mumbles, yawning once more. “I would love that.”

Within seconds, he’s asleep, snoring softly as he holds you close. You should be right behind him in falling asleep, but the mental imagery of what you had just been talking about keeps playing over and over in your mind. And the more you think about it, the more you want it. And the more you want it, your brain begins plotting a spell to make it reality. 

You don’t steal Xiaojun’s penis. You leave it fully attached, unlike in that silly scenario. But you sit up and peel back the covers, looking down at your boyfriend’s bare body. Xiaojun’s eyebrows draw together a little at the cooler air on his skin, at the sound of your voice, and the flicker of light sparks of magic between your fingers. You whisper the spell, move your hands, and you study his dick as you form the replica. You want it to be exact. 

And within the next half hour, you have it. 

An exact working replica of Xiaojun’s dick. A magical replica. 

You put it in your bedside drawer then turn over and go back to snuggling with your boyfriend, falling asleep moments later. 

It’s a few days later, days painstakingly spent without Xiaojun, that you finally remember what you’d done that night. You forgot about the magical dildo you’d created and stuffed out of sight. And today you’re horny and missing your boyfriend, so instead of resorting to one of your typical vibrators, you settle into your bed and tug your new toy out of its hiding spot. 

It truly is just a duplicate of Xiaojun’s dick. It’s been left in the drawer, untouched, unused for days now, so as you bring him out into the light of day, he’s soft, looking a little sad and deflated. But as you lie down in your bed and look at it, as you study it up close, stroking your fingers along it and tentatively suck the tip into your mouth, you find that this toy dick reacts a lot like the real one. It feels just like him too, the weight and feel and taste of him is just the same. 

Slowly, but surely, Xiaojun’s cloned dick starts to fill out beneath your tender touches and salacious sucking. You’re playing, enjoying your time as you suck at the dick how you want, treating him like a lollipop more than anything, honestly. And you begin to wonder, can this magical dildo that acts so realistic reach climax? Can your dildo cum?

You do your damn best to find out. 

You’re lying there alone in your bed, sucking cock, with your pussy throbbing, so you start to play with yourself too. Touching your tits, sliding your fingers down between your pussy lips, gliding a teasing finger around your clit. You moan around the cloned cock, push it in a little deeper, and you swallow around it. You pull in the base of it, drawing it out of your lips a bit before plunging it back in. 

Fuck, it feels good when you’re choking around a replica of your boyfriend’s cock as you plunge two fingers into your pussy, needing to feel something. You pull the dildo out by the base, keeping your lips tight around the shaft, pausing with the tip of the toy still between your lips, you flick your tongue against the slit a few times, wishing this was really Xiaojun’s cock, wishing that he was moaning and leaking salty precum on your tongue, wishing that his hands were in your hair to shove your throat back down around his cock. 

But he’s not here, so you have to do it yourself. 

You gag only a little as you plunge the dildo all the way in, deep-throating the toy. It twitches on your tongue, and that’s the only warning you get before the dildo is cumming, shooting spurts of cum down your throat. You choke but keep trying to swallow, dragging the dildo back out of your mouth slowly, you keep sucking and licking, and the poor thing keeps cumming until at last you pull it out of your mouth so you can breathe. 

It really, really is a magical duplicate. You didn’t expect it would be able to cum. Especially not that much. And it tastes exactly right too. 

The familiar flavor of Xiaojun’s cum is heavy on your tongue as you swallow again. You’re not finished yet. 

You don’t let the dildo go soft. You keep stroking it, spit on it, and suck at the tip again. 

Your pussy is in desperate need at this point. You’re soaking wet down there even as your mouth is drooling for more too, whines of pure neediness spilling from your lips as you stroke the dildo back to full hardness. 

Fuck are you glad you did this. 

You need Xiaojun’s cock, and thanks to your incredible witchy powers, that’s exactly what you’ve got even though your boyfriend is halfway across the city. 

You suck on the tip of the dildo as you lower one of your hands down to circle your clit, to dip your fingers inside yourself, getting yourself nice and ready to be filled with the replica dildo. Your pussy is so ready for it when you finally bring the dildo from your mouth to down between your legs. But you don’t want the teasing to be over and done with just yet, so when you take the dildo in, you only give yourself a little. 

Just the shallow thrust of the magical dildo into your pussy. Barely more than the tip just resting inside of you. You swirl your fingers against your clit, the other hand you’ve got holding the dildo, using it to shallowly fuck the fake cock into you while you focus on your clit, while your pussy tries to pull the familiar shape of Xiaojun in deeper. 

When your bedroom door suddenly crashes open, revealing Xiaojun framed in the doorway, you freeze. 

“What are you doing?” He gasps, his voice loud but not angry as he staggers into the room. “What the fuck are you doing to me, baby? I was working, in the middle of the meeting when suddenly I was rock hard and throbbing, feeling like you were kneeling under the table sucking me off.” 

Xiaojun staggers towards the bed, and you can see now the bulge in the front of his pants, a darker stain there too, like he’d cum in his pants. 

He stops at the foot of the bed, staring at you, staring at the dildo in your hand. 

“You did it?” Xiaojun asks, slowly raising his gaze up from the dildo you’ve got teasing your pussy, up your body to your face. His gaze latches onto yours. “You found a way to keep my dick at home for some fun?”

You nod. “I didn’t realize it was still like… connected. I didn’t realize you’d feel everything, Dejun, or I swear I wouldn’t have done it.”

Xiaojun makes an aborted noise. His hands curl tight around the edge of the footboard of your bed. “It was so hot, though. I immediately left the meeting, hid in the restroom. When Kun came to find me, I pretended like I was sick, actively ill, so they luckily dismissed me from the meeting, and thank fuck they did. Oh my god, my manager drove me here, and I think he probably thought I was dying in the backseat. I couldn’t keep still, couldn’t keep quiet. All I could feel was your perfect lips around my cock, baby, your tongue and your warm mouth, sucking me off so good. And then I came in my fucking pants.” Xiaojun laughs. “The manager had to ask me if I was okay, and I’m a little worried I’ve probably traumatized him when he looked back there and saw me glassy-eyed and curled over my lap, moaning and breathing heavy.”

You want to move down the bed, to put your hands on Xiaojun, reel him in for a kiss. He’s looking at you right now like he’s a man starved, and you’re all he wants to eat. 

“Baby, I didn’t stop feeling you on me. Your hands and your lips, and as soon as he put the car in park, I threw myself out of the car and ran in here. Fuck. I had to see you. And here you are, fucking yourself with my cock.”

You whimper, and your hand twitches on the base of the dildo, pushing him in a little deeper. 

Xiaojun moans at the end of the bed. His knuckles go white from holding on so tightly to the footboard. 

“Go on,” he tells you, his voice gruff. “Put it in yourself, baby. I want to watch you use my cock. Fuck your pussy like you wish you had all of me.”

He stands there, watching as you push the replica of his cock all the way in. You’re wet enough that he slides right in, hugged snug by your pussy. Wet enough that you know Xiaojun can see your wetness glistening along the length of his cloned cock as you pull it out just to thrust it back in. Again and again. Your legs twitch, toes curling. You can’t keep quiet, can’t decide if you’d rather watch the dildo disappearing into your pussy or if you’d rather watch Xiaojun as he strips at the end of the bed and stands there watching you while he’s rock hard. He doesn’t touch himself, but he doesn’t have to. He can feel everything you’re doing to the dildo, and you can see his cock reacting, can see how Xiaojun’s body rocks forward slightly like he’s sinking into you, how his rigid cock drips shiny beads of precum. 

You particularly love the way Xiaojun reacts when you yank the dildo out of you and bring it up to your lips, quickly sucking the combined taste of your arousal and his wet precum off, rolling the flavor of his cock across your tongue. 

“Fuck, baby, this feels unreal. Wish you knew just how crazy this feels, to see what you’re doing, to feel it all. It’s different than normal, more intense.” Xiaojun moans and rocks his hips forward into nothing while you suck at the tip of the dildo. “Insane. Please put it back in your pussy. I wanna feel you, wanna see it.”

You obey, happy to fuck his cock again, plunging it back into your pussy while you run at your clit, knowing that you’re getting close, feeling the tingle of climax beginning to spread through you, your heart racing in your chest. 

“Come on,” Xiaojun encourages you. “You look so sexy right now, baby. I’m gonna cum again, but not until you do.”

Something inside you snaps, the thin restraint holding you back. Your climax tears through you, racing through every vein and in your bones. You keep your hold on the base of the dildo, thrusting it continuously while you’re cumming, your fingers still moving on your clit too, and you’re squirting a little around the cloned cock. 

“So hot. Need to be inside you, baby. For real.” Xiaojun groans and climbs onto the bed, his weight shifting the balance around as he moves towards you. The dildo shifts and you moan. Xiaojun almost falls forward. “I want to cum in you, baby. Can I?” 

You nod. “Yes. Pretty please, Dejun. Need it.”

You drag the dildo out, leaving your pussy open for Xiaojun to quickly refill. He sinks right into you. 

As good as it was having his exact replica inside of you, it still doesn’t compare to actually having Xiaojun. To feel him pressed hard and hot inside of you, the heat of his body settling between your thighs, his eyes on you, his hands on your body. 

The dildo in your hand twitches, maybe feeling neglected now. 

You turn your head to the side, and you bring it back to your lips. 

“Oh, fuck!” Xiaojun thrusts falter. “That is…. That’s a whole new feeling. Oh, shit.” He moans again as you suck off the dildo, as Xiaojun fucks into you. You wonder what he’s feeling right now, and whatever it is must be good. 

He cums, filling your pussy while the dildo cums across your tongue and down your throat. 

You let the dildo fall away, and Xiaojun’s cum drips from your lips, down your chin. You can tell by the look in his eyes that Xiaojun is awestruck, is in love.

He lurches forward to kiss you right as you loop your arms around the back of his neck to drag him in. 

You crash together, moaning into the kiss as Xiaojun tastes himself on your tongue, as he rolls his hips forward, filling you again and again with his cock while he fits a hand between your bodies to touch your clit until you’re falling apart beneath him, your orgasm stealing your breath away entirely. 

“Oh, God,” you sigh when Xiaojun breaks away. 

He falls into his side, facing you. “That was crazy good. Really, like it was insane. The things I was feeling. It was layered, so complex I can’t even try to explain it.” Xiaojun reaches across you and he picks up the dildo from where you left it, a strange expression on his face as he watches it go soft. “Weird, but not in a bad way.”

“Good.” You lean in and kiss him again. “Because I will definitely be using it again. It’s still not as good as actually having you here, but it’s a hell of a lot better than my regular toys.”

Xiaojun lays a kiss on your forehead. “Maybe you should make a clone of your pussy, let me have some fun so you can experience it.” 

You laugh, but damn, your boyfriend has some good ideas. Even a couple hours later after you’ve showered off and are doing things to at least pretend like you don’t want to just stay in bed with Xiaojun, all you can think about is what he’s said earlier. 

Maybe you will have to make him a clone of your pussy, an exact replica so you can see what all the fuss was about. 

a/n: I really wanted to write most of these kinktober prompts, and now that I'm actually like 11 days (or something like that) behind on them, I might keep posting them even after the month is over, but we'll see how that goes. I really wanted to write this Xiaojun one though because I've had this idea for ages ever since I saw this video on Twitter where this girl's dildo just really looked pretty realistic imo, and it's also quite inspired by The Magical Kundini series on AO3 (a Kun/Ten/YangYang relationship, so don't read it if you don't like that)

If you notice any errors or if you feel I should include some more tags/content warnings, please let me know!

I hope you enjoyed! Reblogs are deserving of my eternal gratitude, likes are greatly appreciated, and your thoughts and comments are always welcome!

[mvrkieboo]

Old Bloodhounds

P40 | i see the end

You were trying so hard not to fidget, not to let your smile drop even though Xiaojun and Haechan were being really funny right now. At the back of your mind, you can just see Yoonsu coming closer and closer, wearing Junyoung's face only to distort it, to ruin it, and the memories of Junyoung you have only ever allowed yourself to keep.

Poor Junyoung, buried somewhere in an unmarked grave.

You practically jumped in your spot when a hand gripped on your shoulder. Mark flinched, standing just right by your side when you let out a sudden yelp at the contact. Both of you turned around, and you automatically let out a fake enthusiastic smile as you reluctantly let Yoonsu wrap his arms around you, pulling you into an embrace that lifted you off your feet.

He pushed you away so he can look at your face more closely.

"Junyoung! Oh, it's been so long. I'm glad you made it." You hoped your voice didn't sound too stiff, unconvincing, and terrified instead of happy.

Junyoung's face smiled back at you, but the glee he expressed through Junyoung's soulless eyes was venomous instead of genuine.

This was pure torture.

Yoonsu said he was doing you a favour, but you knew how aware he was in what he's doing with you. There was pure horror and repulsion in your eyes that made Yoonsu the happiest man on earth right now.

Mark looked between you and Yoonsu, wondering why your eyes didn't match your words. When Yoonsu finally let you down, sincerely in love with the way your hands almost desperately clawed at his chest to pull away from him. Mark's eyes didn't miss the way you pulled away from the embrace too—fingers curled at the front of his hoodie, nails attempting to dig in past the thick woven fabric and into his skin.

"Now who's this?" Ningning chirped, and you turned around back to them, the smile still carved into the corner of your lips, making the muscles in your cheeks ache.

"Everyone, meet Lee Junyoung. He was my senior at my highschool in Gangnam, and he helped me out a lot back then when I needed it."

"Hello, everyone. It's nice to see that Y/N actually has so many friends now." He mimicked Junyoung's signature smile that pushed his eyelids close, making the knot in your stomach twist inwards.

You wanted to kill him. With your own bare hands. You wanted to take a knife and carve his face, to pull Junyoung's face away from such a repulsive man.

"Where were you all this time then?" Yangyang spoke almost monotonely, face set straight.

Where were you when Y/N needed you while she was forced to work for a loanshark?

"I moved overseas 3 years ago, to the Philippines, because of my mother's job. I wished we never moved though." Yoonsu turned to you, giving you a meaningful look, eyes telling you all sorts of warning.

"It's okay, I never blamed you for leaving me. You're here now."

You felt like throwing up. You felt like Junyoung's ghost was pulling on your noose from behind, but when you glanced at it, the locket was still hanging off your neck like it usually did. It just felt so much tighter and heavier now.

oooooooooooooooooooooo

"Your friends are more annoying than I thought. The guy who asked me that question—that's Yangyang, right?" Yoonsu didn't even bother to glance at you, still inspecting the music themed accessories on the counter.

"I'll manage him. He's harmless, Yoonsu. Don't mind him." You quickly quipped out, and the palpable fear in your voice made him scoff.

He really loved how scared you were at the moment.

"You know, you should be thanking your stars that your godfathers are practically untouchable. Members of the Min clan—a prominent old money chaebol family—owe them a favour. They're powerful enough to crush me like I'm some sort of roach and flush my body down the toilet without getting caught. Do you know why they're so indebted to Geonwoo and Woojin?" Yoonsu turned to you, bending his body so his face was close to yours.

You shook your head. When you were still working for him, he once slapped you for having bad breath. Markhad let you finish his americano earlier, and you're not taking the risk of getting another slap from Yoonsu in public.

Yoonsu smirked at your meek behaviour and stood up straight again.

"Kim Myeonggil, who used to be a prominent loanshark, had humiliating blackmail material over a member of the Min clan. Thanks to Geonwoo and Woojin however, that blackmail was literally incinerated and Myeonggil is now behind bars—after getting his ass beat by Geonwoo."

You knew Geonwoo and Woojin had connections to the Min clan, but you didn't think it was because they did them a great favour. Yoonsu grasped your cheek, feeling your stone cold skin under his cold palm.

"Now, here you are, someone Geonwoo and Woojin care for, under my mercy for the blackmail I have over you. It'll be real poetic once I kill you. You're their karma, Y/Nnie."

oooooooooooooooooooooo

You entered your unit, startled to see your brother in the kitchen area together with Geonwoo and Woojin. They were cooking dinner altogether, and for a while you stood there at the doorway. Watching your family cook dinner in the kitchen, wearing silly aprons, working in tandem. Yuno always wondered what it would feel like to have older siblings above him that would take care of him just like how he takes care of you, and now his wish was fulfilled, in this short moment that will forever live on in your memories, seared into the back of your mind.

Geonwoo was washing the dishes while Yuno was following Woojin's orders on the steps to making the perfect eggroll. Yuno looked like he was enjoying himself.

Yoonsu will break this family apart. He swore he would, and you knew he always keeps his word.

When Geonwoo turned his head and saw you, you smiled. A genuine smile, for the first time in three days.

Yoonsu was going to kill you after ruining your life anyway, and let you reunite with Junyoung. What's the pain in enjoying this small moment of happiness as it is?

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A/N : if my writing is all over the place here, please excuse it. im kinda high on sleep deprivation rn

oooooooooooooooooooooo

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[writemekpop]

Hips Don't Lie | Xiao Dejun (Xiaojun)

Summary: Your boyfriend Xiaojun catches you staring at his body – and gives you a suitable punishment.

Genre: Boyfriend!Xiaojun, suggestive

Word Count: 0.4k

You were sprawled out on the couch, watching your handsome boyfriend Xiaojun doing push ups in the middle of the living room.

You admired the way his biceps flexed, and his short, sharp pants every time he pushed himself off the floor. The veins in his neck flared with effort. You imagined licking the beads of sweat right off them.  

“Damn, you’ve got a really nice body,” you muttered under your breath.

Xiaojun stood up, smirking. Eyes locked with yours, he pulled off his T shirt and chucked it onto the floor.

You caught sight of his lean torso. The smattering of black hair that wound down his abs made you dizzy.

Xiaojun watched as you stared at him.

“Like what you see?” he said, grinning widely.

“Hell yeah.” You licked your lips. “Come here, baby. Give mama a taste.”

Xiaojun scrunched up his face, cheeks warming.

“Stop objectifying me!” he said, covering his face in mock horror.

You stuck out your tongue. “Shh, you love it.”

Although Xiaojun angled his body away from you, he was smiling. But in doing so, he erevealed his muscled back, which only made your mouth water more.

You jumped up off the couch and ran towards your boyfriend.

You grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him to face you. Then, you wrapped your arms around him and held him tight against your chest.

Xiaojun wriggled in your arms, whining. “Let go, I’m so sweaty!”

You just pulled him closer, whispering, “It’s a good thing I’m thirsty for you.”

Xiaojun laughed, relaxing his body completely against yours. You could feel every muscle pushed up against you. It made your heart pound.

“You’re lucky you’re pretty,” Xiaojun whispered, his low voice sending shockwaves to your core. “I don’t give this to just anybody. Now let’s get naked, get in the shower, and you can show me how much you love this body…”

—

MAIN MASTERLIST

Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

[spacejip]

may i present to you... me!!

- i’m victoria! you can also call me vicky or vic - 20 yo, she/her, bi - virgo, infj/p - 14.09.04 - computer engineering student (save me please) - i’m from argentina 🇦🇷 así que también hablo español :p

ALSO!! mdni. i don’t always post all-ages-friendly stuff i made this post for you guys to see what things i’m into ;) and also because i’m bad at remembering my own fav things, specially groups and ult biases☠️ but it’s because i love a lot of things (most of them oddly specific) at the same time okay?😔🤚🏼

i don’t really write or anything (i mean i did for a long time but i don’t post anymore hehe)… i just shitpost here since i don’t have irl friends that like kpop ☹️ so i just say whatever i think here :D i’ll just list them and you can hit my line if you like any of them or to talk about anything, really !! i swear i’m normal !!

🍃 - chase atlantic, the neighbourhood, cavetown - lemons, grapefruits and raspberries - volleyball - f1 (my dad got me into it by making us watch it every sunday...) - cats - autumn - mint flavored things - studio choom performances - haikyuu, tokyo revengers, another - genshin impact, valorant, dead by daylight, league of legends, fnaf (not that i am any good) - horror movies, games, animes - writing, drawing, singing, dancing, taking pictures (literally anything art related atp, as a hobby tho)

i’ve been haechan biased since i found nct but since chenle wrecked so hard, i’d say i’m chenle biased now.

🍂 my fav groups and biases are: - chenle / haechan (nct dream) - taeyong (nct 127) - xiaojun / hendery / yangyang (wayv) - sion / yushi (nct wish) - sungchan / sohee (rii7e) - gyuvin / matthew (zerobaseone) - jaehyun / woonhak (boynextdoor) - beomgyu (txt) - sunghoon (enhypen) - ej / nicholas (&team) - minho (stray kids) - gaon (xdinary heroes) - yuna (itzy) - giselle (aespa) - haewon (nmixx) - rei (ive) - sohyun (triples)

🍁 my current obsessions are: - JIIIIIIIIIIIISUNG (park) - making playlists i wont use at all - investigate new music artists / groups - nct (couldn’t you tell?), project7 and park jihoon (and the dramas he’s in) - rainbow, my youth, box, to my first, go, love again, hello future (nct dream) - jyuugoya, under the skin, beat the odds (&team) - limitless, cherry bomb, gas, raindrop, ayo, chain, simon says (nct 127) - 90s love, pado, universe, round and round, make a wish (nct u) - only human, ain’t no thang, kick back (wayv) - can’t get you (jaehyun) - tamed dashed, given taken (enhypen) - paranoid, i never existed (chase atlantic) - both 404 songs and honestly taeyong’s entire discography - songbird, the dance break specifically (nct wish)

that is all… for now 😛

[00127am]

CHAPTER FOUR : up in smoke and flames (no pun intended)

@ noisecomplaint ln yn isn't too fond of apartment living, between the occasional roaches and the person who keeps stealing her grocery deliveries. but especially because of her exceptionally loud next door neighbors whom she has decided: she cannot stand. it's not all bad though, certainly not when xiao dejun (the prettiest boy she's ever seen) lives in the building. well, it was a perk. until it's revealed that him and her next door neighbor are one in the same.

Taking Hendery’s suggestion into full force and consideration, it isn’t long until Xiaojun stomps over to the balcony. Where, for a single moment, he pauses. And in this single moment, he remembers the last time he swung open a door. A door which opened to greet him with your agitated expression and sharp tongue. Both things that Xiaojun wouldn’t completely mind seeing again, against his better judgment that is. But the chances of seeing you this time are next to none. In fact, he’d bet against seeing you. Because he just can’t seem to imagine his pretty next door neighbor smoking that god awful brand of cigarettes that Sicheng likes. The same brand that makes him wrinkle his nose at the stench and pulls an exaggerated cough from his throat in the form of an attempted deterrent. It’s not going to be you, that he’s sure of. 

So sure that when he really does open the door and shift his vision to your balcony, your empty balcony, he exhales in relief. Though it’s not long lasting as he catches another whiff of smoke that makes him grit his teeth, jaw locked and eyes narrowed. He throws his head back, tossing an angry finger at the balcony above him as he raises his voice. “You have shit taste in cigs! If you’re going to make the whole fucking building stink then do me a favor and smoke something that doesn’t give me a migraine. For fucks sake,” 

“Sorry?”

You’re there, sitting in the frame of your open window. Your hair hanging low over your face as you lean forward to look at him, lips parted in the beginning of a snarl and brows set furrowed down upon your eyes. Eyes that are narrowed as you scrutinize him, lifting from the base of his slippers to the waistband of his jeans to the tongue that’s pressed against the back of his teeth and then his eyes, now caught somewhere in between surprise and horror. Your attention is so unwavering and undivided to the extent that he can feel the heat beginning to burn in his cheeks.

You laugh, completely unamused, the pretty sound failing to meet your eyes (perhaps in any other circumstance, your neighbor would have gotten butterflies) as you stare him down. Or…glare him down really. And if looks could kill? Well Xiaojun would be dead ten times over. Then dismembered. Skull kicked in for good measure. 

You take a drag of your cigarette, shaking off the built up ash with a flick much too harsh for the job. Exhaling the smoke in a manner which makes Xiaojun think there might be a chance that he doesn’t hate that brand after all. “Sorry for my shit taste. I’ll be more considerate next time when I’m buying my cigs,” 

Oh. 

Oh no.

taglist. @replayenthusiast @ahnneyong @yeosangsbiceps @haechansbbg @mxlly143 @suneonu thank for you for supporting noise complaint! ♡

@ previous @ home @ next

🧾 © 00127am 2024

[thetypingpup]

Off Script: Part 2

banner by @yujaemna

Link to Part 1

​Pairing: The Legion!Xiaojun x Yan!Survivor!Female Reader

AU: Dead by Daylight

Genre: smut, horror

Wordcount: 13.6K

Content: graphic violence and death (xiaojun is a killer in this so), reader is turned on by violence, sadomasochism on both sides, knife play, body worship, praise, dirty talk, sweet talk, petnames (sweetheart, baby, my dear), oral (female receiving), fingering (female receiving), dom!Xiaojun sub!reader but the powerplay fades towards the end, unprotected sex, scratching (male receiving), biting (female receiving), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, missionary, aftercare ofc, yandere content (including stalking, obsession, and possessiveness)

Taglist: @mint-yooxgi, @mrkis, @hall0ween-twn, @i0799s, @jenoslutie, @yujaemna

Absence makes for an obsessive heart. 

Five trials have passed since you’ve last seen Xiaojun. Five fucking trials, of being chased around various locations, all by killers that aren’t him. Though the endless night makes it impossible to gauge the duration of those trials, you just know that it’s been far too long for your liking. The irritable itch of impatience festers beneath your skin as you awaken in yet another expanse of tall, dead grass. You squint against the blaring flash of red and blue that marks police cars in the distance, though the sirens are completely silent. Perhaps they have been frozen in time, caught in that stretch of silence between the sirens’ blare, like the tension of the chest before an exhale. You don’t know, and you don’t care, because there’s no guarantee that you’ll see him this round. 

You wander through Lampkin Lane in search of generators. You told the others that splitting up would be safer, and covering more ground would help open the exits faster, or lead to the discovery of the hatch hidden on the map. In truth, you can’t even bear to be near anyone that isn’t him. The race for survival doesn’t matter if you aren’t running alongside him. 

You meander from building to building to find those red engines you need to power, letting your mind wander as you pass through the monotonous arena. The houses are all the same. The layout of every dwelling on the street is almost identical, with the rooms arranged in similar layouts. From the dark layers of tile on the roofs, to the porches that show the beginning signs of decay, it’s all the same. The only variation to be found is in each house’s choice of dull pastel paint color outside and peeling wallpaper within. The boundaries of each property are marked with the same dark hedges and the same chipping white picket fences. This terrain is far too monotonous to be enjoyable, merging together in a uniform blur as you pass through, which makes it easy for you to let your mind drift to thoughts of Xiaojun.

How you wish it was him following you through this map. How you wish to feel that zip of excitement rush through you and leave goosebumps in its wake. You yearn for him in every way. Your body yearns to feel his hands once more, touching and caressing every part of you. You yearn to feel his lips against yours and on all of your sensitive spots. There’s still so many he has yet to discover. You yearn to feel him deep inside of you, joined as one in the most intimate of ways as he thrusts deeper than anyone has before. You yearn to feel the warmth of his release spilling inside you as if claiming you with his seed. Just the thought has your eyes sliding shut as you ruminate. 

Now that he knows your name, you want to hear him say it over and over again, in carnal shouts of lust and in clandestine whispers of affection. You long to press kisses over the planes of his gorgeous face and witness him melt under your touch. You long to stare into his eyes and feel the intensity of his gaze in return. Even a glimpse of his mask would be a welcome sight.

Shrill screams bring your attention back to the arena. On instinct, you duck down and out of sight, hiding beneath the window in the house you sought refuge in. You count two distinct cries of anguish sounding off in quick succession, as if they’ve been struck one right after the other in a singular chase. Wait, you know that technique. You recognize that speed. Could it be him?

Your heart starts to pound audibly, getting louder by the second. The heaviness in your heart, the tangible rush of blood coursing through your veins, tells you that the killer is nearing. Your muscles tense, preparing to run and hide in the first direction your eyes lock onto. Your chest rises and falls more rapidly by the moment, and you carefully peek through the shadows to see if you can identify the killer. A smile lifts your lips as soon as you catch a glimpse of that smile crudely scrawled onto that oh so familiar white mask.

He’s here! Xiaojun is here!

Judging by the volume of your racing heart, he’s right outside the house you’re in, sneaking through the backyard. Glee bubbles to the surface in the form of warmth on your cheeks and a tingle in your hands. Finally, you get to see him again! Your mind already takes off, sprinting through a whirlwind of thoughts. Does he remember you? Of course he does. How could he forget? He did say that he’s yours after all, right? Should you let him know that you’re here? Should you hang back and let him find you? Would he come looking for you?

You decide to watch as he corners someone in the backyard right outside the window. A scoff has a rush of air puffing from your nose before you can stop it. This poor soul didn’t stand a chance, stupidly running right into some of the junk piled in the backyard and cornering themselves. You never would’ve made such a stupid mistake, and in the back of your mind, you hope he’s thinking about how you would’ve evaded him with ease. With a single swipe of his knife, your fellow mortal is knocked to the ground, blood splattering from the grizzly gash on their arm. You feel that match strike of arousal spark right up your spine, the sparks flaring right between your legs, as you watch him mount the poor human onto one of those dastardly hooks.

You barely pay any heed to the wriggling form of who’s supposed to be your companion. All you can focus on is the fact that Xiaojun is close enough to easily see you if you move, his attention only diverted to glide his blood-stained knife over his sleeve. Now’s your chance! Without thinking for another moment, you vault through the open window, leaping right toward the hook and hoisting your teammate off of it.

“Go, run!” You sharply whisper to them, and a moment later they’re scurrying off into the night. You see the killer pause at the sound of your voice, stunned, as if he can’t believe you’re actually here. A moment later he brandishes his knife, the blade reflecting the red and blue glare of the patrol car lights. Warmth blooms in your chest as your eyes meet, and you can feel him meet your gaze even through the holes poked in his mask. Then, with a sly smile, you take off through an opening in the hedges and right into the street, breaking through a barrier of yellow tape. The rush of air you hear behind you tells you he’s following right on your heels.

This new map gives you a new idea, and you wonder if he’s up for the challenge.

Dashing to the nearest house, you scale the gutter rail on the side, shimmying up to the roof. To your delight, you see him climbing the side of the building right behind you, finding footing in the ramshackle tiling on the wall. As soon as you hop onto the roof, he’s right behind you, and your heart races faster as you sprint towards the edge. 

You have two choices now; drop into the backyard and race across the ground, or jump across the grassy gap and onto then next roof. He’s following fast, hot on your heels, so close that your sleeve gets ripped by the slashing arch of his blade. Thinking fast, you leap across to the next roof, landing on your feet. To your elation, he follows right behind, and it takes everything in you not to swoon at the show of athleticism. 

The red and blue flashes below pass by in a blur as you hop from roof to roof. The tiles clatter noisily underfoot, some of the panels knocked out of place by your racing feet and sliding down the inclines. You make it to the end of the lane, with Xiaojun following close behind. He stays just a few paces back, just far enough to give you the advantage for now. But you know at any moment he can rush you with a burst of speed that’s unique to his technique, and that’s exactly what you want. You want to feel the sudden impact of him pressing against you, leaving you cornered in the blink of an eye, brought back to center with the cold press of his blade right against your heated skin. The thought of him finally catching you excites you more than anything, and it’s with this thought that you slip through the rooftop window on the house you just landed on, knowing that he’ll go where you lead him.

Your shoulder blades meet the wall in a sudden rush of speed as he presses you back against it, just hard enough to drive the point home that he’s won this game of chase. He only needs one hand by your head to cage you against the wallpaper, to halt you in your tracks and let him corral you. You bite back a moan at the cold press of his knife against your neck, the warmth of his body so enticingly close to yours, and the slick edge to his voice that cuts deeper than any blade, “Did you miss me?”

“Sure did. Took you long enough, by the way.” You breathe out with relieved elation, smiling at the sight of that white mask.

“I told you I’d see you again, sweetheart.” He slowly runs the edge of the blade along the high point of your neck, just barely grazing your jawline as he glides it along, “Still giving me a run for my money, I see.”

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you eye the weapon, a soft giggle bubbling between your lips, “I can’t help it. It’s too much fun.”

“What do you say we have some fun of our own, hm? Make up for lost time?” He slyly suggests, his other hand sliding down the wall and onto your side.

“How about this?” You reach out and toy with the zipper of his hoodie as if you’re about to take it off, fiddling with the metal bit in your hand, “I bet there’s at least one person still alive in this arena. Take them out, make sure it’s just the two of us here, and then we can have some fun.”

The slight tremor in his voice portrays his interest, “Ooh, I like that. How long do I have?”

You furrow your brows, “What do you mean?”

“C’mon let’s make this interesting. Gimme a time limit.” He shifts his weight from foot to foot, practically shuddering with excitement.

“Ok uhm…” Thinking quickly, you decide the terms of this little wager, “You have three minutes to find and hook the last person, and I won’t give you any hints on where they might be.”

“I bet I can do it in two.” He cuts in, and you can hear the eager smile he’s surely wearing behind his mask.

“Then do it in two.” You nod in agreement, “And if you win, I’ll let you do whatever you want with me.”

He leans in with a playful chuckle, “Whatever I want? You’re giving me a lot of power here, sweetheart.”

You stare right into the openings where his eyes are with an earnest gaze, “I trust you.”

The light playfulness fades ever so slightly as something a bit heavier fills the void. Even his knife, which was dangerously pressed against your most prominent vein, is now safely tucked in the seam where your jaw meets your neck. With his other hand he tightens his grasp on your waist, as if wordlessly telling you that you can indeed trust him. You’re quick to restore the lighthearted atmosphere with a flippant remark, “I mean, I definitely trust you more than the idiots I got stuck with this round.”

He scoffs, and even though you can’t see it, you can tell he must be rolling his eyes, “They were pathetic this time around. It’s not much of a game if they make it too easy.”

“Well then, go finish them off so we can have some real fun. Your time starts…” You lean in, so close you can almost feel the ceramic of his mask, “Now!”

With a burst of speed, he flies through the window, landing with a tuck and roll on the grass below. You follow along, hopping from rooftop to rooftop after him. From your vantage point you can see more of the map, noting the exit door that marks the end of Lampkin Lane and the gray fog that looms beyond the gate. You make yourself comfortable on the edge of the roof, watching for Xiaojun to make his final kill.

Lucky for him, the final person makes it easy. Limping towards the exit, a trail of their own blood stains the dark grass and leads Xiaojun right to them. The person desperately reaches out and grasps the lever beside the door, tapping their foot impatiently as the mechanism slowly activates.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, open!” You hear the emphatic murmur of this last person, watching them fidget as if their heart is about to leap out of their chest. You clutch the edge of the roof, leaning over as far as you can, eyes straining to search the shadows for Xiaojun. Your heart hammers in your chest, even faster than this last remaining soul, anticipation tensing your muscles as you lie in wait.

Their strained hope is short lived, for Xiaojun emerges from the darkness while their attention is on the switch. He follows the trail of blood slowly, closing in, knowing he has the person completely trapped. They know he’s right behind them, their heartbeat pounding loudly in their ears. You see them tremble helplessly, pressing down harder on the flipped switch, as if that will activate the door faster. You know from experience that their attempt is futile, which only makes their misplaced hope captivating to witness from afar. Xiaojun advances slowly on the soon to be victim, almost casually, letting dread pool viscously in the pit of their stomach. He knows they have nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, which lets him compel cortisol seep almost painfully into their bloodstream. 

Xiaojun lies in wait, watching the progress of the door opening like awaiting the end of a countdown. You’re all but squirming in place as you wait for him to make a move, pulses of arousal emanating from between your legs.

Right before the door opens, Xiaojun cuts them down, rushing them before they have the chance to think. With their hand still clutched tightly to the switch, they scream in pain as they fall to the ground. Their fingers uncurl from around the switch as they’re forced to relent their grasp, only for the door to slide open a moment later. Watching the killer wield his blade with such precision, seeing him elicit such cries of agony, only enlivens your erotic want. You look on as he drags the helpless soul to the nearest hook, and in the next moment, the curved metal spears through muscle and bone with an audibly wet crunch. The person is silenced, and a moment later, the clawed essence of The Entity spears the body with shadowy talons and lifts them away, growling as it accepts the sacrifice. Xiaojun looks up in your general direction, and you wink at him before slipping into the house, knowing that he’ll follow.

To your surprise, instead of scaling the side of the house and climbing the roof, he enters through the front door. Brows furrowed curiously, you faintly make out the sound of running water from the kitchen sink downstairs. There must’ve been more blood than you could see from your vantage point. 

He doesn’t give you much time to ponder before he’s racing up the stairs, panting from the effort of sprinting for so long. He inquires excitedly as he catches his breath, “How long was that? Two minutes?”

“Just about.” You nod, and though you weren’t exactly timing, it felt like no time passed at all, so he must be right. You smile at the evident elation that emanates from him, “You seemed to have fun.”

“It’s nice to build up the fear a little bit, especially when there’s nowhere to run. Still, it’s not as fun as running after you.” He tells you as he steps closer, taking a step forward as you step back, letting you lead him further into the room.

“Is that so?” You hum, your smile widening at his words.

“It is. With you, the adrenaline rush is much more satisfying. I can always count on you for a real thrill.” He emphatically insists, sending a shiver down your spine. He eyes you up and down and notices how flustered you are, commenting with a soft chuckle, “And from the looks of it, you had fun too.”

“I really like watching you work.” You admit, not taking your eyes off his masked face for a moment.

“Is that so? And what do you like about it?” He mirrors your hum with a murmur of his own.

“It’s exhilarating, watching you work. It’s like watching a hunter pursue their prey.” You explain, and you realize that the way he advances towards you is not unlike what you just described, and your breath hitches as it dawns on you.

“Hmm, I should’ve known you’d be into that sort of thing. You’re just as kinky as ever.” He says, and you hope he felt the same tingle of titillation you just did.

“There’s a lot that I’m into, a lot that you’ll find out in due time.” You assure him, and your footsteps halt as your shoulder blades meet with the nearest surface, which happens to be the bedroom wall. He grasps your waist and pulls your hips towards him, and you welcome his advance, winding your arms around his neck. 

Pressed against the peeling wallpaper, your heart pounds as he steps closer and gruffly remarks, letting his teasing veneer dissipate, “I haven’t stopped thinking about you, about us.”

Though your reply is slight, your eyes shine with elation, “Really? I’ve taken over your mind that much?”

“I told you, I can’t get enough of you. Every spare second I got, I thought of you.” As he speaks, his hands trail down your sides, his touch languid with sensual intent, “I thought about how I can’t wait to feel this pretty mouth of yours again. I thought about being between your legs and tasting you again. I thought about making you come undone with my cock and just how fucking good you feel around me.”

“Sounds like you were just thinking about fucking me.” You huff out a laugh and playfully roll your eyes.

He halts and falls silent, head lifting as if affronted by your words. Before you have a chance to be concerned he steps more surely on his feet, the atmosphere instantly different.

“I was thinking about far more than that.” He tugs off his mask, and the sound of it falling to the ground is barely heard over the beating of your hearts. He leans in so close you can feel just how soft his silver hair is upon your skin, and you’re faced with the unbridled sincerity in his gaze, “You, are so much more than that.”

He cradles your face with a tenderness you didn’t think was possible for anyone to exhibit, and caresses your lips with his in the form of deep kisses. He forgoes the pet names for the moment, instead whispering your name softly against your lips between subtle sweeps of his tongue. He strokes the curve of your cheek in time with each kiss, the pad of his thumb running right over the epicenter of heat on the apples of your cheeks. 

Now it’s your turn to be surprised. This surge of such earnest affection is as overwhelming as it is unexpected, and you love every moment of it. Winding your arms tighter around his neck, you pull him closer, mirroring his kisses to show him you feel exactly the same way. He hums at this, and the sound is low and resonant enough to thrum through your mind. Your fingers sneak around to the edge of his hood and tug it off, running through his silken strands of frosted silver a moment later, and he hums indulgently at your soft touch.

He stops after some time and simply embraces you, letting you both have a moment’s reprieve from such breathless kisses, from such breathless chases. He whispers your name again with all the airy sweetness of cotton candy before his next words have you even more breathless, “Sweetheart, I’m obsessed with you. When I say I can’t get enough of you, I mean that in every way. You don’t know how much I longed just to have you in my arms again, just to be able to kiss you, just to hear your voice. I’m glad you had me kill everyone else first, because I want you all to myself.”

Your breath comes to a halt as you take in his words. All to himself. Obsessed with you. The prospect has you shivering with delight. He presses his forehead to yours and caresses your face, and you feel his impassioned appeal fan out over your lips, “You’ve made me yours. Now let me really make you mine.”

“Please, I want nothing more.” You nod emphatically, your heart beating so fast it all but takes flight in your chest. You’re already his, and the thought of him doing more to claim you as such has you reeling with excitement. With shuffling footsteps, he leads you over to the nearby bed and lays you down over the surface, quickly climbing into bed with you. 

With another sweet kiss upon your lips, he settles on top of you and starts trailing kisses down your neck. His kisses subtly sear your skin with the permanence of a tattoo, and you instantly melt onto the bed sheets. He whispers between kisses, inscribing his words onto your skin, “I’ve been craving you so bad it aches. Every moment away from you has been agony. Not a moment went by when we were apart where I didn’t think about claiming you as mine, over, and over, and over again.”

Fitting his hands to the curve of your waist, he continues, tucking his face into the curve of your neck, “No one else has made me feel as good as you do, and no one ever will. With you, I’ve never felt more alive.”

His teeth sink into your skin, the sharpness of his teeth imprinting intents of pain into your flesh. You sigh out a moan at this, leaning into the pain, leaning into him. You arch up against him, urging him to bite harder, to take more, to claim you completely. 

He continues to speak as he settles beside you, his words groaned out between bites and open mouthed kisses, “I want to give you everything I have, and everything that I am.” 

Heat sparks and flares beneath the surface of your skin until it envelops you with wanton need. Your fidgeting hands make their way to your hooded sweatshirt, unzipping the garment in one smooth motion and letting it part. You shimmy your jeans down just as quickly, and his lips remain on your neck all the while, his hand coming up to caress your thigh once the skin is exposed. He suckles softly on the spot he bit, while his arm drapes over your waist. One of his legs follows suit, draped over you and pulling you against him in one smooth motion. His kisses are so gentle as he traces the column of your throat, biting softly on the spots that make you sigh. He lays beside you, having the time of his life simply making you moan and enjoying his proximity to you. You can feel his cock getting impossibly harder against your leg, the turgid flesh prominent even through his jeans. His mouth soon trails down to the juncture where your neck meets your shoulder, fluttering kisses leaving a titillating trail that has you aching for more.

You giggle at the fluttering warmth of his kisses upon your neck, draping your arms over his shoulders as you reiterate, “You don’t have to be so gentle, y’know. I told you before, you can do whatever you want with me.”

“And I want to make you feel good. We don’t know how long we’ll be separated once you depart, and I want to enjoy you while I can.” He counters, and your breath simply leaves your lungs in one quick exhale at his words.

He had meant to hold off for a while longer, wanting you to relax into his soft touch and tender kisses first. But at your eagerness, he decides to propose how he really means to make you his, “Actually, I have an idea I think we both will enjoy.”

He reaches over and grabs his knife, and immediately you shiver in anticipation. He brandishes the blade by twirling it in his hand with casual ease. You see that the blade is completely clean, glinting stainless silver in the faint light of the bedside table. His eyes hold a similar glint as he inquires, “You said earlier that you trust me. Did you mean that? Do you trust me, sweetheart?”

“Is this a yellow for slow down, red for stop situation?” You ask, keen interest edging your question.

“Only if you want it to be.” He says as he straddles you, legs settling into the bed on either side of your hips. His eagerness is evident, the knife twirling at an almost hypnotic pace in his hand, but he deliberately waits for your word before he proceeds. Staring at the blade, you ponder his offer.

He used his knife on you the last time, and earlier in the evening, but his hardened gaze tells you this will be more intense than a simple press to your neck. You watch the blade spin before your eyes, and your nerves come alive with the need to feel the sharp edge all over your body, to let him explore you in such a dangerous way. You see how expertly he wields the weapon and you long for him to use that skill on you. It suits him more than it has any right to, which only turns you on more. 

“Your eyes are doing an awful lot of talking, but I need your words, sweetheart.” He insists with a smirk, and he abruptly stops the motion of the blade by grasping onto the handle, “Do you trust me to use this on you?”

You nod, shuddering with excitement at the sight of the blade and emphatically agreeing, “I trust you baby, more than anyone.”

The smile he gives you in return mirrors the one drawn onto his mask, wide and crooked with mischievous delight.

“Just,” You pipe up, reaching out to grab onto his wrist, “Don’t pierce the skin, and don’t draw any blood.”

He takes in your request with a nod and softens for a moment. With a kiss to your forehead, he promises that, “I won’t. The only thing you’ll feel, my dear, is ecstasy.”

Your heart flutters at the new endearment, warmth spreading through your chest like a warm hearth. He notices the way you smile and kisses your cheek, “Do you like when I call you that?”

“I do.” You nod with a giddy grin, “I really do.”

The entire air shifts as a more dominant demeanor settles over him. The playfulness is still there, scrawled all across his face, though now it’s mixed with a deliberate intensity that hardens his features ever so slightly. When he speaks, his voice lowers to a smooth, velveteen timbre, and you outright swoon when the point of his blade lifts your chin to meet his gaze, “Then my dear it is. Yellow to slow down, red to stop, and green if I’m doing something you like. Do you understand?”

“I understand.” You’ve never nodded in agreement so quickly in your life, already feeling yourself slip into a more submissive mindset. With a breathless, giddy giggle, you quip, “Now make me yours.”

The tear of fabric reaches your ears, followed by the rush of cool air over your exposed skin. He bares your collarbones by cutting right through your shirt, carving the garment to reveal what lies beneath. He’s careful not to pierce the skin, but you can feel the quick drag and scratch of his blade over your skin as his movements start to become quicker, as his need for you starts to build. It’s the smooth edge, not the serrated side, that makes contact with your skin, and you notice his intent to merely graze your flesh with the blade as he cuts away your shirt. With one final slash, your shirt is fully torn and your chest is fully exposed to him. He’s quick to trace the knife over the sloping swell of your breasts, right along the skin your bra doesn’t cover. 

“Oh how I’ve missed the sight of you.” He all but growls, hungrily gazing down at you with a heated stare. You bask in the way his eyes beam down on you like a spotlight and voraciously rove over your body. His free hand comes up to touch you, following the cold trail left by his knife, fitting to the shape of your breast as he whispers reverently, “You’re easily the most gorgeous person I’ve ever laid eyes on.” 

“I hope you know the same goes for you.” You try to reciprocate the praise, but he brings a finger to your lips, gently halting your words.

He grins, sweetly in a way that makes the apples of his cheeks more prominent, though ravenous mischief is present even in his sweet smile. You’re enraptured by the sight all the same, hanging onto his every word as he murmurs, “I appreciate that, my dear. But right now, let me appreciate you. Let me indulge in this bit of heaven in this hellscape.” 

You’re astonished by how easily he wields dominant energy with such suave eloquence. It amazes you, how he sweeps you off your feet with such effortless ease, and you find yourself falling deeper into obsessed infatuation.

You don’t have a chance to be floored by his words before he impatiently cuts your bra right down the middle, wedging the blade beneath the center before tugging it apart at the seams. The garment parts, your breasts fully exposed to the open air, and it takes everything in him not to abandon his plan and just fondle your boobs. As gripped as he is with the urge to lave his tongue all over your breasts and suckle on your nipples, he restrains himself, willing himself to take his time appreciating the enticing sight. Though the excitement that palpitates within him is evident, the wandering stroke of his knife never falters, and his skilled hand remains steady. You notice this and comfortably relax into the bed, trusting him to keep his promise and ensure that you’re never truly harmed.

He runs the knife over your chest, meandering from the jut of your collarbones to the soft swell of your breasts. He circles the very tip of the knife around your nipple, watching you arch up against the coiling spiral of stimulation, and his lips part at the sight. He repeats the action on your other nipple, tongue slipping out as he sees you react the same way. He watches the motion of his silver dagger with rapt attention as he lightly traces your torso with it, as if perusing a work of art to see how each part fits together to form an absolute masterpiece. His brows furrow in concentration as he expends the effort to take in every detail of you, from your breasts, down to your midriff, down to the flare of your hips marked by the line of your panties. He’s especially fascinated by the way your waist gives way to your hips, and the seam where your hips give way to your thighs. He runs his knife over the sensitive skin of those spots, and watches as the action sends shudders fluttering through you. He thinks, as he diligently traces the contour of your body, that he wouldn’t be able to carve something so beautiful if he tried. You’ve exceeded even his wildest dreams, and your erotic reactions only have him more ensnared.

“So beautiful…” His words trail off, and he has to bring himself to center so he can check in with you, “What’s your color, my dear?”

“Green.” You nod, already yearning for more, “Keep going, please.”

Metallic brush strokes are etched along your skin as he admires you, and you subtly arch up into his metallic touch, feeling a distinct craving for more. As promised, he never breaks the skin, but you feel the pressure of the sharp blade amplify in intervals, as if testing just how much the flesh will give way beneath his blade. You shudder as the weapon makes its way above your hips once more, tickling your side with its piercing chill, sending cold sparks of titillation surging from the spot.

“You are truly exquisite.” He muses aloud, his voice taking on a faraway tone of awe. As the blade glides up your body once more, his other hand comes up to cradle your face, and he whispers his next words right in the middle upon your lips, “I mean that. I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as you, my dear. I could stare at you forever, touch you endlessly, and still feel like I haven’t taken you in enough.” 

His knife stills for a moment at the base of your neck as he kisses you. Slowly, deeply, he pours all of his fondness into each kiss, taking your breath away in the process. The pointed press of his knife contrasts the soft caress of his hand against your face as he kisses you. You kiss him back, tilting your head to savor every bit of affection before he pulls back once more. Reverently, he mutters against your lips, his forehead resting against yours, “You’re a work of art, my dear, unlike anything the world has ever seen. A work of art that only I get to appreciate.” 

His flowery praise sweetens the sharp edge of pressure that just barely skirts the line of pain he presses into your skin, and it tantalizes you even more. You try your best not to squirm, for one move too sudden as the weapon will abrasively pierce your skin and draw blood. It’s the pensive stillness you have to maintain that makes this so thrilling for you, remaining still while your heart hammers away. You let him wield his blade as he pleases over your body while you lie beneath him, while you trust him to grant you pleasure in exchange for your pliance. To drive the point home, you let your hands rest above your head, a show of vulnerability that makes him visibly swoon.

With a cheeky grin, you invite him to, “Go ahead. Appreciate me to your heart’s content.”

He locks eyes with you, his gaze darkened with perverse lechery, and his next words come out as a moan against your lips, “With pleasure.”

You gasp sharply as the warmth of his mouth replaces the cold kiss of his knife, your breath hitching as you arch up against him. He retraces his steps over your torso with his weapon, only now, his mouth follows the invisible route that he draws. The edge of his blade acts as a graphite point that depicts your torso in its entirety, making an impression of your likeness with long, skilled strokes. He drags the blade across the top of your breast in a single sweeping motion, mirroring a single shade of an artists’ pencil. Your jaw drops this, a loud moan rising between the kiss-swollen pout of your lips, and his cock twitches at the sight of you succumbing to such a sensation. He repeats the action once, twice, three times more, until the skin grows tender beneath the sharp scrape. You all but cry out at this, pleasure pitching your voice and splintering the sound into shrill bits of sensual bliss. He can’t deny the rush of inflicting such pain and seeing you react with such delight, and the satisfaction makes his cock throb in the confines of his pants.

Moving the blade, he gently places a kiss right onto the tender patch of skin, right where your racing heart makes the skin quiver rhythmically. He feels your pulse against the swell of his lips, and it drives him wild with obsessive lust.

“What’s your color, my dear?” He kisses the spot once more, glancing up to gauge your reaction.

“Green, bright green.” You enthusiastically reply, an exuberant sense of joy overtaking you as you surrender to the sensations you feel. You slip further and further into a submissive headspace, and he guides you on your ascent into delirious ecstasy. It’s the way he calls you ‘my dear’ with such fervent ardor that keeps you tethered to this plane of reality.

The kisses and bites he leaves over the rest of your chest are less refined, emitting pure, warm passion that contrasts the frigid caress of his knife. As though shading a sketch, he fills in the portrait of you with heated sucks and sharp bites, coloring in the outline with marks and adding depth to the image. He revels in the fact that only he can suck and lick on your most sensitive spots, that you’re only allowing him to indulge in you so carnally, and that determination only sharpens his bites. He responds to your gasping moans for more, noting the spots he kisses that make your body jolt. He marks them with hickeys, both for reference, and to make you moan louder for him.

Your eyes slide shut as you sink into the euphoric ecstasy that overtakes you. The cold precision of his knife and the warm, unbridled passion you feel from every press of his mouth is a delectable contrast. A mess of lips and tongue and teeth follow every stroke of his knife, the blade remaining meticulously precise while the ministrations of his mouth grow more frantic. You moan unabashedly, not caring how loud or how lewd you sound. You know there’s no one in this entire arena but you and him, which gives you the freedom to sound as debauched as you feel. The rising pitch of your voice and the breathiness that takes over portrays the praise you can’t find the words to bestow upon him. 

You just can’t believe how good he’s making you feel, how perfectly he balances pleasure and pain to create a truly euphoric sense of ecstasy that surges through you in white hot flares. The ache of both become one within you and has your mind reeling with enraptured bliss. With his motions, he gives you that invigorating rush of excitement you so desperately craved, and right now, the adrenaline fueled arousal your feel is beyond anything you could’ve ever imagined. 

By now, you know you’re beyond soaked, your panties sticking to your folds as you take in everything he gives you. You can easily grab his hair and press his face in deeper, run your fingers through the silken strands of silver hair, but you refrain. You let him explore your body at his own pace, reveling in the pleasure and pain he grants you in return, loving the way he keeps you on edge. Besides, letting him exude power like this is beyond hot, especially as you take in the dark look of concentration that crosses his elegant face. You try to keep still so he doesn’t break the skin, truly you do, but the myriad of sensations makes you fidget. Your motions make his knife and sharp teeth press against your flesh more incessantly, the added pain only making you writhe and you love it. 

At long last, he moves down lower, making his way past your navel and down to the meeting of your thighs. Your legs fall open without being prompted, welcoming him between them. The only barrier to your core are the panties that remain on your hips. He lets his blade trace under the edge of the garment, right where it loops around your thigh, and you shudder expectantly, waiting for him to slice it off. But he doesn’t tear a single thread, not until he gets your express permission.

“Would you like me to cut these off?” He inquires, blinking up at you, tenderness seeping into his dark gaze.

“Please…” You all but whine, lifting your hips to the blade to show how much you need him, “Don’t keep me waiting.”

Without another moment of preamble, he snips the side of your panties with a simple flick of his wrist. Impatiently, he tugs it down the rest of the way with his other hand, eager to gaze upon your centre once more. The sight of your pussy is just as wondrous as he remembers, perhaps even more so, his eyes widening as he’s instantly transfixed. He’s drawn closer until his lips latch onto your inner thighs in a series of avid kisses.

“Everything about you is just delicious, my dear.” He groans, pausing to kiss you between each phrase, “Your scent, the way your soft thighs feel around my face, that way this gorgeous pussy quivers for me, makes me wanna fucking devour you.”

With the lecherous hunger in his stare and way he muses about your scent, the hunter comparisons from before are even more apt. You spread your thighs wider as his lips move higher between them, as if slowly closing in on his query and sneaking in a few samplings before tasting what he’s claimed. As if to accentuate the ravenous need welling within him, he closes his eyes and inhales deeply right at the apex of your thighs, breathing in your arousal. 

“Fuck…” His brows hike up and he moans a shameless expletive upon his deep exhale, eyes fluttering at your scent. The lamp that lights the room beams on the high points of his face, highlighting the way his elegant features are etched with predatory intent. His lips curl back in almost a snarl as he takes in the sweet musk of your arousal once more. His hand grasps your hip to keep you close to his face as he breathes you in, as if oxygen can’t sustain him unless it’s been enriched with your arousal.

His tongue slides out to slowly lick between your lower lips, taking in the delicate folds of flesh within. You both let out a simultaneous groan as the wet muscle meets with your heated flesh, both savoring the satisfaction. He keeps his tongue strokes slow, graciously taking in the way your folds flare and give way under his probing tongue. He lingers at your clit with each lick, and pleasure radiates from the sensitive bud with every sweep of his tongue.

“You’re just as delicious as I remember, my dear. I can’t get enough of the way you taste.” You don’t know what affects you more; his words, or the growl-like grunt with which he expresses them. All you know is that he has your breath stilling and your heart hammering in your chest even faster than before. You didn’t think it was possible for him to entice you more, and yet here he is, ensnaring you with such vulgar adoration.

You’re reminded of the presence of the knife when you feel its cold edge against one of your thighs. He suspends you in contrasting sensation once more, the warmth of his mouth offsetting the chill of the blade. His other hand retains his grip on your hip, keeping you in place while giving you enough slack to squirm as you please. The press of the dagger is more than enough to motivate you to stay in place, for every time you arch up, the edge of the blade presses deeper against your flesh, and intensifies the pressure to border on pain.

That exhilarating combination of pleasure and pain overtakes your body and makes you mewl in delight. This time, pleasure far exceeds and overrides the pain, almost overwhelmingly so, and you love every moment of it. Pure erotic bliss emits from your core in spirals as he circles his flattened tongue over your clit. He caps off each spiral with an open mouthed kiss to your clit, sucking the bud between his lips before resuming the pattern once more. Every lick, every suck, every motion of his mouth, kindles a fire that melts away the icy press of his knife and sequesters it to the edge of your perception. All you want is to feel more of his pretty mouth pleasuring you in such exquisite ways, and you arch against the sharp side of his blade to claim more of that pleasure for yourself. You let your enjoyment be known, tossing your head back, shouts of his name mingling with cries of bliss. He takes in your responses with ravenous glee, loving the way your body reacts to him, and only him. The moans he draws from you only envigorate his desire, acting as a pour of kerosine over the intense flames of lascivious fervor that burn within.

The warmth of your thighs pulls him in deeper. The taste of your pussy intoxicates him. The way you chant the syllables of his name like they’re the only sounds you know has his cock aching with need. He indulges in you in the most intimate ways he knows how, tracing your folds and exploring your core with his tongue, yet he still craves more. Merely lying between your legs is not enough to satiate his craving. He wants to be completely entangled in you, totally inebriated by the sensual experience of pleasuring you. And that’s exactly what he sets out to do.

Tossing the knife aside, he tugs you towards him in one sharp motion and winds your legs around his neck. It falls to the floor in a clatter that neither of you hear, for your simultaneous moans drown out the sound. The action pulls your clit further between his puckering lips and presses your heated folds against his face. He groans in satisfaction as your thighs squeeze around him with every such on your clit. Your hips buck against his face, your pussy pressing against his nose, and he likes the way the motion restricts his breath in intervals. The pressure of your legs on his neck and the angle he has to maintain forms the most delectable strain just on the cusp of pain, and he loves it.

Intensifying everything for you both, his hands reach under you and lift your hips off the bed. He groans and clutches onto the curve of your ass, keeping your hips suspended above the mattress. Keeping his lips latched onto your clit, he all but smothers himself between your thighs, shaking his head back and forth as you wail in ecstasy. He keeps you firmly against his face, halting your every move to squirm away from the onslaught of pleasure. A growling groan rumbles deep in his throat as your juices seep from your entrance, and he dips his tongue down to lick up your arousal before going back to ravaging your clit. Your hands reach down to grab at his hair in frantic tugs, desperate to find purchase as you’re sent careening towards the edge of euphoria.

“Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum! Xiaojun, please!” You warn him, and from the sound of it, you’re mere moments away from release.

“Cum for me, my dear.” He roughly commands, and your body obeys without a second thought. Eyes rolling back, you buck your hips against his mouth, screaming his name. You jolt with each intense surge of euphoria that wracks your body, fingers slipping through and grabbing at his hair to try and anchor yourself. He stares you down as he works you through it, letting you fuck his mouth to ride out your high. There’s nothing more erotically alluring than the sight of you reaching your peak, than the feeling of you pulsating against him as your release flows onto his tongue wet rushes of heat, and he’ll be damned if anyone else but him gets to experience such a mind blowing marvel. This, is all for him to enjoy.

You fall back onto the bed, chest heaving as you attempt to catch your breath. Your eyes fall shut, as the effort to keep them open is too great at the moment. Your every nerve is alight, illuminated by the opalescent afterglow of your orgasm. You’re hyper aware of the quilted texture of the blanket you lay upon, but otherwise, the rest of the room fades from perception as you lie there, the expansion and contraction of your lungs ragged at best. 

It’s the distinct sound of his laughter that grabs your attention. Deep chuckles of smug satisfaction scintillate your senses, fortelling deviant intent and drawing your attention back to center, back to him. You open your eyes and you’re instantly faced with the most bewitchingly wicked grin you’ve ever seen, and your breath is promptly expelled from your lungs at the sight.

“You can’t possibly be tired already, my dear. We’ve barely begun.” His sadistic taunt coincides with the gentle rub of his thumb on your sensitive bundle of nerves, which quivers against the pad of his finger. You choke out a whine, hips twisting under his touch, overwhelmed by the stimulation.

He lifts his head just enough for you to see the dominant lust that clouds his visage, “That’s right, my dear, we’re just getting started. You said I could do whatever I want with you, and I intend to make you cum until my face is dripping with your essence. Then, when you don’t know whether to beg for mercy or beg for more, I’m gonna fuck you until we’re both seeing stars.”

And even though you just came, your pussy clenches around nothing, feeling the craving for more stir within you.

“What’s your color, my dear?” He checks in again, and you’re touched that even in his lust ridden state, his attentive care for you shines through.

“Green.” You reply, already anticipating what he has in store.

He pulls you against him once more, right into two of his fingers. You whimper as he breaches you effortlessly, fingers curled to fit to the contour of your core. Barely giving you a moment’s reprieve, he tugs your hips down to meet the thrusts of his digits, fucking you with his fingers right into the bed. You let him undulate your hips as he sees fit, relenting to the way he rocks your body. Enraptured with ecstasy, you let out a litany of whines and breathy curses as he massages your inner walls, his fingertips brushing against each tender spot he locates. He sinks his fingers in as deep as he can, massaging one of your innermost sweet spots and making pleasure emanate from your core in a bright beam of bliss. Knowing you’re beyond overwhelmed by this point, he takes it up a notch, and circles your pulsing clit with the tip of his tongue. He laughs to himself when you squeal as predicted.

Smiling as you helplessly whine, he urges you on, “That’s it my dear, give in to me. Fuck, you’re doing so well.”

His praise intensifies the light of passion that glows within you, endeared abashment beaming on the surface of your cheeks in the form of incandescent heat. 

“So good for me, my dear, so good.” He continues with a kiss to your clit, moving his fingers faster and laving his tongue over the bud, “You’re absolutely perfect.”

A two pitched whine pushes past your lips as you relish in his fond compliments, his every word increasing the pleasure ten fold and sending you spinning. You reach out to grab onto his wrist, anchoring yourself with the corded thread of his hoodie sleeve. Your parted lips feel empty, longing to feel something, anything against them, longing to feel him even more.

“Please,” You breathlessly plead, tears brimming in your eyes, “Please, kiss me.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, sitting up and capturing your lips in a series of kisses that sear to your core. Your orgasm builds much quicker than before, and it doesn’t take much before you’re teetering on the edge once again. You moan against his lips, and the louder and breathier your moans, the faster he goes, determined to make you come undone in a matter of moments. Just to add to the frenzied fray of erotic enjoyment, his mouth makes its way back down to your neck, kissing and biting the spots he mapped out before. Your eyes squeeze shut and you whimper at the subtle pricks of pain from his quick nips. Coupled with the subtle sweeps of pleasure from his thumb on your clit, you’re left to desperately wriggle in his grasp as you take everything he gives you. The slick wetness of his fingers slipping in and out of your pussy fills the room, though the sound pales in comparison to the ragged whines that tumble from your lips. He revels in your sounds, greedy to hear more, and he tells you as such, “That’s it my dear, keep moaning for me. Keep whining for me. Let me hear how good I’m making you feel."

He presses his fingers against your most tender spot, and your resounding cry is music to his ears, a gorgeous melody that entrances him like a siren’s call. Your screams of ecstasy are far more enticing than the screams of agony he elicits from his victims, and if these are the only sounds he’s permitted to hear for the rest of his existence, he’d be more than content. Bestowing pleasure and pain upon you in tandem, making your heart race with euphoric bliss, is easily the greatest thrill he’s ever experienced. His cock throbs between his legs as he takes you in, the way your back bows beautifully, the way your thighs shudder and shake, the way your body spasms in his grasp, the way your arousal flows onto his fingers like the nectar of the most delicate flower. More than anything, he loves that he is the one who draws out such gorgeous sounds. He is the one making your beautiful body react this way. He is the one making you feel this good. No one else gets to have you like this, and that rush of possessive lust has him muffling groans into the crook of your neck.

All mine. He growls within his mind, biting you harder than before, sinking his teeth in with enough pressure to surely leave a prominent mark.

Your orgasm takes you by surprise, the sharp pain inducing an even more intense rush of bliss than before. Your body convulses, your core clenching around him in fluttering pulses, sucking him in as you desperately ride out your high. The scorch of sensuous delight is almost too much to bear, and you scream uncontrollably as you’re ensnared in an earth shattering rush of rapture. You grab onto him, clutching his arm as if you’ll slip away if you let him go for even a moment. He stays attached to you, his lips latched onto your neck and kissing you all the while. His fingers never stop moving within you, not until the first signs of your slowing breath. His kisses soften as you come down, mirroring the way that overwhelming heat dissolves into a more subtle warmth. 

You expect to be exhausted when your orgasm fades, but instead, you feel invigorated. You roll your hips to feel his fingers that are still buried within you, but you crave the feeling of something bigger. You want his cock. You want him. 

“Please, Xiaojun, I need you to fuck me.” You beg before he has the chance to utter a word, overcome with the urge to feel him stretching you out.

“You need me baby?” His voice lilts playfully as he props himself up on his forearm, slowly removing his fingers from your core. You whine at the loss, but you’re quickly transfixed by the sight of him lifting his fingers to his lips and sucking off your release.

A trail of saliva and slick essence connects his fingers to his mouth as he pulls them back, making the lewd smirk that lifts his lips look even more salacious. Lifting your hips, you move the heavy blanket aside and lay on the linen sheets underneath, not taking your eyes off of the erotic display of revelry for even a moment. He runs his tongue over his lower lip to lick up the last of your release before he teases you, fingertips toying with the zipper of his hoodie, “How bad do you need me? How bad do you need my cock?”

“I don’t think I can wait another moment if I tried.” You shamelessly admit, replacing his fingers with your own to show him just as much you yearn for him. You make quick work of his hoodie, dragging the metal fastening down in one smooth motion. He lets you undo the garment, allowing you to slide it off his shoulders. The gray cloak is tossed aside, and once he lifts his arms to let you slip it off, his shirt soon follows. He lets you undress him, baring himself to you without question. The fleeting touch of your fingertips across his skin arouses him even more, making him even more eager to be inside you. Impatiently, he undoes his jeans and slides them off, the denim rustling noisily as he kicks them off. One smooth toss later, and his jeans and underwear are across the room, and you drool at the sight of his bare body.

If you were stunned when his face was first revealed to you, that’s nothing compared to the astonishment you feel at seeing him naked for the first time. From his toned arms, to his defined pecs, to the delicately carved definition of his abs, his body is a sculpted vision of lithe athleticism. He’s even more magnificent than you could’ve ever imagined, and you find yourself stunned to stillness, barely aware of the rise and fall of your own breath. Your eyes follow the motion of his hand as he wraps it around his cock. He strokes himself as he moves onto his knees, right between your parted legs. You all but drool at the sight, saliva pooling on your tongue the longer you watch his hand slide up and down the turgid flesh you long to feel from within.

“See something you like, sweetheart?” He teases, gently coaxing you from your reverie. 

“I see something I love.” You emphatically assert, winding your arms around his neck and pulling him towards you. He lets you smoothly ease him down as you lay on your back, arranging him on top of you. You lift the loose sheet up over his back, tucking it onto his shoulders, cloaking you both in a curtain of surprisingly soft linen. With the placement of the thin cover over you both, a tender air of passion settles within the confines of the linen sheet, your motions hurried but not as frenzied as you intertwine your bodies. You reach down with the intent to stroke his length and prepare him to enter you, only to be stopped by a shake of his head.

“I’m ready for you.” He insists, fully slotting himself between your legs, “I need you, now.”

In the next moment, the head of his cock presses against your pussy, and already the heated contact has you both needy for more. He presses forward, and your slick folds easily give way as your entrance flares open for him, welcoming him into your innermost intimate space. He takes his time easing himself in to the hilt, and you spread your legs wider to luxuriate in the slick stretch of him sheathing himself completely in you. He only halts when the toned plane of his abdomen meets with your clit, and braces his hands on either side of your head, grounding himself before he gets lost in the all encompassing heat of your pussy.

Looking up at him, you’re amazed by just how beautiful he looks right now. His hair falls over his face, curtaining his regal visage with tresses of frosted silver. You’ve told him before he looks like royalty, and you stand by that assessment wholeheartedly, especially now that you notice the way the lean perfection of his body merges with his pretty face. You still have no idea how someone as charming as him ended up in such a desolate realm, but you’re beyond thankful that you crossed paths. Likewise, he gazes at you with such wonderment, his hand slides onto the curve of your face on its own accord, just compelled to cradle such beauty. He can’t get enough of caressing you, admiring you, taking in your gorgeous allure. Stillness settles over you both, marking your suspension in the stretch of silence between a siren’s blaring. You’re both still in disbelief that you get to have each other like this, but you do. You have him, and he has you, and no one else gets to enjoy the connection you’ve seized for yourselves.

When he moves, he keeps his motions slight, which gives you both the chance to take in the pleasure of your intimate attachment while maintaining the serenity you share. With every languid thrust, you feel every inch of his cock, every vein and ridge and swelling throb, feeling how you stretch to take him in. He slowly sinks into the wet heat of your core, over and over at a leisurely pace, savoring the way you squeeze around him.

“How?” He rasps in astonishment, “Do you feel so fucking good everytime?”

His awe struck observation has you clamping down, clutching onto his cock with a vice-like snare. He lets you suck him in, thrusting according to the whims of your pussy as your walls ripple and draw him in over and over again. As far as he’s concerned, he’s had his moment of control for the night. Now it’s time for him to succumb to show his devotion to you.

He holds you like you’re precious, wrapping his arms around you and cradling you in his embrace. He presses his chest to yours like he’s trying to merge your bodies together as one. He thrusts between your legs like he’s offering himself to you, slowly rolling his hips according to the undulation of your own. He matches the pace you don’t realize you set, picking up where the lurching lift of your hips leaves off, breathing out moan after wanton moan as he enjoys the pleasure of your pussy. You likewise bask in the pleasure he gives you, your back arching and lifting off the bed to meet with his chest. You wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him even closer, feeling the smooth sheet slide over the back of your hands. By the time you can’t possibly press together any further, you’re entangled so closely that you can feel each other’s racing hearts against your chests. His heart beats for you, and yours beats for him, pumping at the same rapid pace together.

“I missed this.” Xiaojun breathes out against your collarbone, bestowing a kiss upon the spot a moment later, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too. I missed you so much.” Your words come out amidst a breathy exhale, your fingers lacing together on the back of his neck.

“I missed being inside you, pleasing you from within, feeling the way you give into me.” He whispers his words as if letting you in on a clandestine secret, one that he only means for you to hear. 

You divulge an impassioned confession in return, “And I missed feeling you inside of me. I think about it every moment we’re apart, just wishing for the chance to feel you again.”

“You don’t have to wish anymore, sweetheart.” He says with the emphatic assertion of a vow, angling his hips to seek your sweet spot with his cock, “I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

With your arms wrapped around your neck, your legs winding around his waist, your inner walls rippling around his dick, he’s completely enveloped in you. There’s nowhere he’d rather be than in this moment with you, and there’s no one you’d rather be entangled with so intimately. He’s yours, all yours, and you squeeze tighter around him, refusing to let him go. You’re the only he’ll ever claim like this, the only one he’ll ever fuck so passionately, the only one he’ll ever feel this devoted to. A rush of possessive passion overtakes you, surging through your fingertips and strengthening your grasp on him. Your nails run crescent pinpricks right onto his back, dragging short scratches over his skin, making him moan out in bliss for you.

“Oh fuck, keep doing that baby. Keep doing that!” He keens, arching up against the pain with a whine, “Fuck that feels so good.”

Scratching along his back, you keep drawing blunt lines of pain along the taunt skin. You claw your way down along the edge of his shoulder blade and he all but mewls in bliss, bucking his hips more erratically. He fucks you faster in response to the stimulation, losing himself to the excitement you encite in him. You match the pace he doesn’t realize he sets, frantically chasing pleasure with him.

The bed steadily rocks with your simultaneous motions, lulling you both into a state of amorous bliss. You remain silent, save for your shared moans of pleasure, for your bodies do all of the talking you need. With his deep thrusts, he shows you the depths of his fealty to you, and you arch up to meet his motions to show him you feel the same. With the way you squeeze your thighs around the curve of his waist, you convey your craving to remain connected to him, and not relent your hold. With his winding grasp on your body, he shows you just how much he’s yearned for you in the time you’ve been apart, conveying a mutual desire to simply be with you. The intensity in his gaze tells of his commitment to enjoy the time you can spend together now. And with your tender touch upon the curve of his gorgeous face, tell him you see him for who he is, for what he is, and you adore him unconditionally. He shows you he appreciates your acceptance with affectionate kisses upon your lips, softer than all the other ones you’ve shared tonight.

You give yourself to him, as he gives himself to you, both of you becoming one between the sheets. He enjoys the pain you scratch onto his back and the pleasure of your pussy, and you in turn revel in the way the head of his cock rubs against your tender spots with consistent precision. The bed creaks more audibly as your pace quickens, making impact with the wall, signaling your impending release. You feel him throb, he feels you clench, and you both know you’re reaching your peaks.

“Fuck baby, I’m gonna cum.” You speak for the first time in some time, your throat straining with the effort to form words.

“Me too, sweetheart.” He huffs, speaking just as much of an arduous task for him, though he still manages to plead for you to, “Cum on me. Cum on my cock. Mark me as yours.”

And that primal plea is what sends you right over the edge. Though you reach your end one right after the other, with you finding release just before him, the shouts of each other’s names sound off at the same time. Your eyes remain locked the entire time, even as you feel the warmth of his release flood your core, even as he feels the staccato flutter of you clenching around him, even as toe curling bliss completely overtakes you both. 

He falls limply on top of you as you both come down, his head resting between your breasts upon your heaving chest. Your scratching relents, and you instead let your fingertips rest upon his back. His eyes slide shut as he just savors how you feel, the soft warmth of your boobs and the wet heat of your core just entrancing him to no end. You in turn savor the soft kisses he scatters over your breasts, up to your collarbones, tilting your head back to grant him access to your neck. His mouth roves along the column of your throat, slower this time, soothing the aching lovebites he left before with the soft warmth of his lips.

He pauses peppering kisses along your neck to ask, “Are you ok, sweetheart? Are you hurt anywhere?”

“There’s a sore spot right here on my chest.” You inform him, motioning to the spot on your chest he scraped with his dagger, “But no broken skin. Honestly I think my nails on your back did more damage than your knife.”

He lifts his head and nods, kissing your forehead, “Let me see if I can find something for that.”

He slowly withdraws from your core, reluctantly extracting himself from your embrace. You instantly feel the empty imprint of where his cock used to be, already wishing you could feel him once more. He stands and rummages through the dresser drawers by the wall, diligently searching for something he can use. As he does, you shamelessly let your eyes rove over his backside, enjoying this new view of this beautiful man you’ve come to feel so much for. Your gaze maps out the broadness of his shoulders, the cinched curve of his waist, the definition of his legs, the supple curve of his ass--

“Oh perfect!” His shoulders straighten, and he appears to have lucked out on a discovery.

Your gaze is diverted to a small bottle that lands softly by your feet. Curiously, you glance down at what he’s found. The lettering tells you the bottle contains aloe gel, and before you have the chance to ask what he means to do with it, he makes his way back to your side. You don’t even think before leaning on him, your chin automatically tucking onto his shoulder.

“Looks like whoever lived here was just as kinky as we are. Either that, or they had very nice skin.” He chuckles, taking the bottle in his hand and flipping the cap open.

“Baby, what would you have done if that wasn’t there?” You voice your curiosity with a soft murmur in his ear.

“I would’ve dashed from house to house until I found some,” He turns his head to tell you, adding with a lift of his shoulders, “Or something similar.” 

“And how did you know what to look for?” You ponder aloud, brows furrowing in consideration.

“I know what I’m doing with a blade, sweetheart. I wouldn’t have used it on you otherwise, not unless I knew how to take care of you.” He refers to the weapon with which he made countless kills, and yet he wouldn’t have let it grace your skin if he didn’t have the utmost confidence in his skill, completely certain he wouldn’t bring you any true harm. The sentiment makes your face warm pleasantly, and you settle more into his side.

At your silence, he continues to explain, “That’s why I made sure the blade was clean first. I wasn’t going to get some poor soul’s blood all over your beautiful skin.”

“Can we even get infections?” You wonder aloud, “I know we can be hurt, but I haven’t been in a trial long enough for a wound to fester.”

Xiaojun frowns at the notion of you being that injured, “I don’t care to find out, especially not when it comes to you. I wouldn’t risk it.”

Squeezing some of the clear gel onto his fingers, he begins tending to the tender flesh he graced with his knife. The gel is cold upon first contact, making your breath stutter, and he halts immediately. Only after you nod does he continue to spread the gel over your chest and down to your torso. The refreshing coolness seeps through your skin and soothes the muscle beneath, loosening every ache and every bit of tension in your body. It would seem that his skills with his hands extend to more than just using a blade, or pleasuring you. With his gentle touch, he shows you that his elegant hands are capable of great comfort as well. His slender fingers rub the gel into your skin with comforting precion before his palm follows suit, applying delicate bits of pressure. He makes sure his every touch feels good and doesn’t cause a hint of discomfort, and you feel cherished by his attentive care. You’re able to fully relax under his touch as he repeats the reverent touches he laid out with his blade earlier that night. This time, fills in the portrait of you not with pain, not with pleasure, but with cooling comfort that has your eyes sliding shut in content.

He takes extra time rubbing the gel onto the sore spot on your chest, as if holding your heart in his hand. His touch is even more gentle as his palm roves over the spot, taking his time dissolving the heat of soreness and replacing it with cool relief. With this action, he says so much through wordless means. The latent message of his touch is that he will always be here to soothe you, that you can trust him with your heart as well as your body. You hear his unspoken implications loud and clear, face burning as you register his implicit message.

“How does that feel sweetheart?” He asks, his words free of the dominant edge from before, a soft sense of fastidious thoughtfulness taking its place.

“Feels really good.” You tell him with a smile, letting yourself sink into the bed.

“Good.” He nods, an elated smile making its way to his face, “I always want to make you feel good.”

And he does, for the coolness of the gel creates a new kind of euphoria, one where you can let yourself go and luxuriate in serenity. A layer of aloe is rubbed into your thigh, up onto your hips, and over the planes of your belly. Every spot that was once graced with the icy edge of his blade is coated in aloe, and the refreshing scent of the gel relaxes you more. When he makes his way to your breasts, fondles the soft mounds of flesh in smooth circles, and the cool gel over your nipples is warmed in the next moment by a fond sweep of his thumb.

“Do you think I can use the blade next time?” You wonder aloud, letting your passing rumination slip through your lips.

His hands halt for a moment, his cock stirs at the prospect, and he hums in agreement, “I’d be more than happy to show you how it’s done.”

Once he’s finished applying gel to your skin, you sit up, taking the bottle from his hand. Curiously, he eyes you, “What are you doing, baby?”

“Turn around.” You instruct, and he immediately obeys, turning his back to you. There, you see the raised lines of red drawn with your nails, scarlet trails of stimulation scratched onto his skin. You squeeze some of the gel onto your fingers and slowly smear it over the marks you see, keeping your motions gentle to mirror the way he touched you. He tilts his head back with a muted moan, already relieved by your touch. Ever so gently, you press the gel into his skin, allowing it to seep into the muscle beneath the surface. A fervent warmth rises to the apples of his cheek, touched that the care he extended to you is being reciprocated so sincerely. Slowly but surely, you cover his entire back in a clear layer of gel, feeling the way the knots in the corded muscle unravel beneath your fingertips.

“When was the last time you’ve had a massage? Do you remember?” You comment playfully, noting just how much tension you release all along the top of his shoulders.

“We don’t exactly get the chance to relax between trials. There’s no time to relax.” He jests, his soft laugh turning into a faltering sigh when your thumbs rub circles into the base of his neck, “Oh, right there. Right there, that feels good.”

You ruminate on his words with a contemplative hum, “That’s a shame. You should be able to unwind. It’s hard work feeding The Entity time and time again.”

“Well, lucky for me, I have the perfect form of respite sitting behind me.” He counters, looking over his shoulder and locking eyes with you, “And she’s really pretty too.” 

You huff out a laugh, a giddy sense of glee bubbling up within you. Even simple compliments uttered with his melodic voice fill you with exuberant joy. The sight of your happiness inspires joy in him as well, and he can’t stop the smile from lifting his lips. He leans over, kissing you softly, smiling against your grin. You easily return the affection, giggling into the soft kisses.

Once you’ve finished massaging him into relaxation, you lay beside each other like you were always meant to share a bed. Your place on the mattress is nearest to the bedside table, and he slips beside you on the side facing the door. His arm winds around your waist, and you shuffle closer to him, laying right on the defined muscle of his pec. You close your eyes as you take in the soft thump of his heart within his chest, feeling it’s fluttering tempo against your cheek. An air of almost idle domesticity settles over you both, and you wonder if you’d manage to find your way into his arms even outside of beyond the bounds of The Fog. Would you still have met, had you both not been trapped together in this realm? You find yourself wondering what a room you share with him would look like. You certainly wouldn’t pick this hideously dingy wallpaper, that much is certain.

“So,” He pipes up, his fingertips meandering over the curve of your hip, “Does The Campfire call, or can you stay with me for a while longer?”

It’s then that you realize you haven’t spared a second thought to The Campfire, or your obligation to move to the next trial. You’ve just been content to stay with him, as if you can remain with him in idle bliss without consequence. The game was forgotten, little more than a distant memory, until he reminded you of your shared circumstance. Despite this, you feel no sense of dread. No disappointing revelation dampens your elevated mood. The Campfire call, while present, is muted enough to be ignored for now, as his embrace gives you all the warmth you need. His mind has also strayed away from the incessant repetition of deadly trials. He can’t even guess as to where his mask ended up, and right now, he doesn't care to. Right now, hiding himself is the last thing on his mind.

“I’m not going anywhere, not for some time at least.” You assure him, wrapping your arms around his midsection.

“I’m glad. I like having you all to myself.” His grin widens, highlighting the rosy tint that dyes his cheekbones with mirth. If you look hard enough, you can see faint wrinkles that crinkle on the corners of his eyes, and the sight endears you to no end.

“I like it too.” You hum your assent with a grin of your own, “I don’t want to share you with anyone else.”

“You won’t have to.” He pulls you closer into his side as he assures you that, “You have me, completely.”

Your kisses resume and never seem to cease from that point on. Even as you kiss him and enjoy the palpable press of his lips, you’re still appalled that in this hellscape, you managed to snag something as precious as your bond with him. You ruminate on just how much you’ve come to feel for him in such a short time, and how much he’s come to feel for you. You thought your affair with him would be nothing more than a lustful fling, but everything from tonight tells you this goes far beyond passion of the flesh. You’ve truly come to adore him, as he’s come to adore you, and the shared sentiment warms your heart to no end. You snuggle closer to this beautiful man, honored that he’s chosen to bare himself to you, and make you his as you’ve made him yours. You never thought your obsession with him would extend beyond perverse lust, and yet here you lie in his arms, with your heart fluttering with the amorous prospect of romance. 

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[what-if-nct]

Where NCT would hook up.

Johnny: The bed of a pick up truck under the stars by a river with lighting bugs everywhere.

Taeyong: In his bedroom with all of his stuffed animals turned away facing the wall.

Yuta: Near the woods next to a church behind a storage trailer with a picture of Jesus spray painted on it as there's ominous growling coming from the woods and it feels like a horror movie but he at least brought a blanket (please do not ask why it is so specific like it's an actual lived experience of mine)

Kun: An apartment on the upper east side after a beautiful dinner with champagne waiting in the bedroom.

Doyoung: a deluxe suite at the Ritz Carlton with champagne and chocolate covered strawberries awaiting in the room.

Ten: On the rooftop of his apartment building with fairy lights, a blanket and pillows scattered everywhere.

Jaehyun: On his unmade bed with Johnny in the room passing him a joint once in a while during sex.

Winwin: In his contemporary loft apartment that smells like Dior cologne and is always really cold for some reason.

Jungwoo: On his bedroom floor filled with candy wrappers and socks as Barbie life in the dream house plays in the background

Mark: In a hotel in a different country that he used an alias for because as he said "You can never be too careful"

Xiaojun: In a mall dressing room and he gets paranoid every time things get too quiet or someone walks by.

Hendery: Behind a taco bell at three in the morning and when you call the attention to raccoons he says "let them watch"

Renjun: In his bedroom with the door locked, window covered, and vents stuffed with foam. He does not trust his roommates. Half way through gets a simple hotel room across town because he thought he heard a laugh.

Jeno: The front seat of a semi truck. He honks the horn when he finishes.

Haechan: A motel room with a vibrating bed, pink lighting, mirror on the ceiling and a pole.

Jaemin: On the beach at night on a large picnic blanket, with a bottle of wine and whip cream and an extra blanket to cover with afterwards.

Yangyang: Kun's bed, especially if he knows when Kun will be walking in the door any second.

Chenle: He doesn't hook up.

Jisung: He's in a quaint little motel room but he's acting like someone is going to walk in any second and he'll be in trouble.

[snowball-doie]

Now I need a blurb about wayv babysitting and finally feeling understood in their language struggles😡😡

It took lots of convincing to get a babysitter for Reyna. It was a winter night close to Christmas, the lights were all lit up around the city, and all the boys and Ahri wanted was one date night where they could go out and get barbeque together, maybe drink a little, and perhaps make their way to noraebang... Winters were really the only time they could go out together because everyone was bundled up in so many clothes, that they couldn't be recognized, and even if they were, it just looked like the boys were out with someone they worked with. Nothing wrong with that. But in order to pull of their big date, they needed someone to look after their daughter... and now that she was in daycare, she was a menace to society. She liked to play hide-and-seek..... without telling anybody. It always scared the shit out of whoever was home to look after her. And she was learning all kinds of inappropriate jokes from the boys at school, and she was going on and on about how she was going to marry three of the boys in her class-- The boys and Ahri needed a night off. So Johnny asked Ten first if he'd be willing to babysit. Nope. Kun? Hell no. Did they trust the triplets to look after her? Not really. Winwin? He only said yes if the other boys would be there with him to hang out. Aigo. So Johnny and Taeyong did the convincing, finally getting all of the WayV boys to show up in the evening, ready to look after ONE KID, food stocked in the fridge, emergency numbers taped to the door, video games updated on the TV. They had everything they needed. "Call if you need anything!" Ahri yelled as she was pushed out of the house by an impatient Jungwoo. "Or don't!" Hyuck called out. "Please don't call unless someone's dying," Jaehyun begged them quietly before slamming the door shut.

The boys looked down at Renya.

"What do we do with her?" Hendery whispered to Xiaojun in Cantonese. "How the hell am I supposed to know?" "Does she need to eat?" Yangyang whispered in Mandarin. "I already ate," Reyna said in Korean. The boys jumped back, like she was a bomb that had been set off. "Do we make her watch a movie?" "Is it bed time yet?" "Maybe we give her a snack?"

"You look old..." she said in broken Chinese. "Are you older than my dads?" she asked in Korean.

The horror on Kun and Ten's faces was............ indescribable. How did she know how to say that? WHY did she know how to say that? Did Chenle or Renjun get to her first? No, it had to be the work of Haechan......

"How much Chinese do you know?" Winwin interrogated.

Reyna shrugged. "My friends at school taught me a little bit. My appa thinks it's funny."

"Which one?" Yangyang asked before he suddenly got elbowed in the side by Kun.

Ten gulped and kept Reyna at an arm's reach while shooing her away to the couch to sit. "Let's put a movie on, ya?"

"Haiiiii."

The whole night, the boys just side eye Reyna. Did she know what they were saying in Chinese? They tried every dialect they could think of, and Reyna never gave them a hint as to whether she was eavesdropping or not. She really was Hyuck and Jungwoo's kid. THAT WAS WHY THEY DIDNT WANT TO BABYSIT!!!!

"Another!" she exclaimed excitedly in Mandarin.

The boys looked so fucking confused. They couldn't figure that kid out for the life of them.

"Can I watch you guys play Mario Kart?" she asked with a mixture of Korean, Japanese, and Mandarin.

"She's just like us...." Xiaojun said, baffled. "More like Ten who can never make up his mind with what language he wants to pick for the day," Hendery added. "Hey! I try my best, okay!" Ten defended helplessly. "Says the one who thought boxing ring (in Cantonese) meant the same thing as a boarding house. Yeah, sure." "Hey, I'm older than you, show some respect!" As Ten was about to tackle the triplets, Kun and Winwin tell them to knock it off. "Isn't it past your bed time?" Winwin questioned. "What my parents don't know won't hurt them," she continued to speak in various languages. The whole room settled.

"She gets us."

After that, the triplets are besties with Reyna. They're always jumping at the opportunity to babysit her, begging Jaehyun to bring her to the office more often, ditching their own practices to see her when she is there, etc. Ten is just confused-- But also threatened? He's the polyglot of NCT, okay! He can't get beat by a kid!

"Okay, okay, no matter what happens, you have to reply to them in Korean for the first few minutes, okay? And once their guard is down, that's when you switch up," Yangyang said to Reyna who was nodding and pumping herself up for their prank. "No backing down," Hendery told her. She saluted at the three men crouched down in front of her, "Yes, sir!" "Go get 'em."

The boys watched through a crack in the door as Reyna waddled into the Dream practice room where Hyuck and Mark were. They immediately stopped their dance to greet their daughter, but she ignored them and instead walked over to Chenle and Renjun who were relaxing on the couch. She pulled herself up onto the couch then sat between them. "What's she doing here?" Mark asked. No one knew. "Appa Jaehyun brought me to work today!" "Doesn't she have school?" he continued to talk to Hyuck who was nodding with disappointment. How many times did they have to tell Jae to stop pulling Reyna out of school to bring her to the office? "Where's appa now?" Hyuck asked. Reyna shrugged. She turned to Renjun, and like a kid would, she started crawling all over him, intruding on his personal space, just so she could tug on his long hair. "Are you gonna dye it purple again, uncle?" Renjun laughed, "Not for a while, sorry." "That makes me sad," she said in Chinese. Chenle began laughing loudly while Renjun went pale. "You look pretty with purple hair," she complemented in Chinese. The life drained from his face some more. "What?" "Why're you laughing, uncle?" she teased Chenle who immediately fell silent. "Your green hair is starting to look like puke." "Hey, young lady!" Mark scolded, picking her up off Renjun's lap. "That's not nice." She pouted, "But it's trueeeeeeee, dadddddd!!" Giggling in the doorway caught Haechan's attention. He walked over and suddenly opened it all the way, watching as the triplets all fell on top of each other cartoonishly with groans of pain. "Well, at least we know who put her up to it now."

"They have to stop teaching her Chinese," Renjun said in Korean, still shell shocked. "She's getting really good...."

"It was funny up until she turned on us," Chenle agreed with a blank, mortified stare.

The triplets laughed before scurrying out, abandoning Reyna to have to answer to her dads alone.

[daydreamingyuta]

Masterlist

Seventeen

Joshua

Cuddling with Joshua

NCT (all units)

Dates with nct

Most likey to: make you flustered

Wayv

Kun

Kun as a Husband

[7:45 am] 

Ten

Ten as a Husband

Sleepy

Winwin

Winwin as a Husband

Xiaojun 

Xiaojun as a husband

[6:34 pm]

Hendery

Cozy Mornings

Hendery as a Husband

Yangyang

I’ll Be Here to Take Care of You

Yangyang as a Husband

NCT Dream (mark and haechan in 127 section)

Winter Dates with NCT Dream

Renjun

Renjun as a Husband

[2:34 am] 

Jeno

Homebody

Jeno as a Husband

Stay the Night

Jaemin

Fake Dating

Jaemin as a Husband

Eavesdropping and Confessions

Chenle

Hidden Feelings

Chenle as a Husband

Jisung

Jisung as a Husband

Sharing Headphones

NCT 127

Things that remind me of NCT 127

NCT 127 as Book Tropes

NCT 127 as Valentines Dates

127 Nicknames they would call you

127 When you’re Sick

127 Words of Affirmation 

127 Comforting You

Traveling with 127

127 as Wedding Dates

127 Supporting their Model S/O

Summer Nights with 127

127 as Little Acts of Love

127 During a Horror Movie

127 Trick-or-Treating with Their Kids

Christmas with 127

127 as My Favorite Movie Characters

Soft thoughts about the members

#1 (Mark, Yuta, Taeyong)

#2 (Yuta, Mark, Jaehyun, Doyoung)

#3 (Mark, Taeyong, Doyoung)

#4 (Yuta, Taeyong, Johnny)

#5 (Mark, Haechan, Taeyong, Johnny)

#6 (Haechan, Johnny, Taeil)

#7 (Mark, Yuta, Taeyong)

#8 (All 127)

#9 (Taeyong)

#10 (All 127)

#11 (Johnny, Taeyong, Yuta)

#12 (Mark, Taeyong, Jaehyun, Doyoung)

#13 (Taeyong, Johnny, Yuta, Doyoung, Mark, Haechan)

#15 (Taeyong, Jungwoo, Mark)

Taeil

Hugs 

Whims

Taeil as a Husband

Miss You 

soft thoughts: #6  ✰ #8  ✰ #10

Johnny

Spending Time with Johnny on his Birthday 

Johnny as a Boyfriend

[7:37 pm]

Washing Johnny’s Hair

Flustered

Johnny as a Husband

Bucket List 

soft thoughts: #4  ✰ #5 ✰ #6 ✰ #8 ✰ #10 ✰ #11 ✰ #13 ✰ #14 

Taeyong

Taeyong as a Boyfriend

Taeyong Daydreaming about the Future

Beach Picnic 

Taeyong as a Husband

[9:06 pm] 

soft thoughts: #1 ✰ #3  ✰ #4 ✰ #5 ✰ #7 ✰ #8 ✰ #9 ✰ #10 ✰ #11 ✰ #12 ✰ #13 ✰ #15

Yuta

Yuta being Sweet after you had a Long Day

Yuta as a Boyfriend

[1:58 am]

Comfort 

Café 

My Rockstar

Yuta as a Husband

soft thoughts: #1 ✰ #2 ✰ #4 ✰ #7 ✰ #8 ✰ #10 ✰ #11 ✰ #13 ✰ #14

Doyoung

A Rainy Day with Doyoung

Expensive

Bad Dream 

Doyoung as a Husband

Book Club

soft thoughts: #2 ✰ #3 ✰ #8 ✰ #10 ✰ #12 ✰ #13

Jaehyun

Jaehyun Finally Admits his Feelings

Strawberry Sunday

Getting ready with Jaehyun (part one)

Getting Unready with Jaehyun (part two)

Jealous 

Surprising Jaehyun after a Work Trip

Jaehyun putting you as his Phone Background

Peaches

[10:34 am] 

Blind Date

Mornings

Necklace 

Clingy

My Girl

Jaehyun as a Husband

[8:31 am] 

Lullaby 

Love Song

Finesse 

soft thoughts: #2 ✰ #8 ✰ #10 ✰ #12 ✰ #14

Jungwoo

Jungwoo Tries to Impress You

Jungwoo as a Boyfriend

Jungwoo as a Husband

Tea Party

soft thoughts: #8 ✰ #10 ✰ #15

Mark

Mark as a Boyfriend

Self-Care Day with Mark

Croissants & Roses

[9:14 pm]

Glue Song

Flowers

SFW Alphabet

Unrequited Love 

Question

[1:47 am]

Innocent Touches

The Flower Shop Owner (part one)

The Flower Shop Owner (part two)

[1:12 pm]

Reading with Mark

[8:31 pm] 

Sticky Note 

[11:46 pm] 

[8:02 pm]

Hold Me?

Good Morning, Baby

Don’t Wanna Say Goodnight

Baking Christmas Cookies

Mark as a Husband

Bittersweet

Sweet Kisses

First Snow

Can I Sit? 

[10:12 PM] 

Spring Rain

Spidey Suit

[7:12 pm]

soft thoughts: #1 ✰ #2 ✰ #3 ✰ #5 ✰ #7 ✰ #8 ✰ #10 ✰ #12 ✰ #13 ✰ #15

Haechan

Haechan Defends You

[9:53 pm]

Taking a break with Haechan

Journal

Listen to Me

[4:14 pm] 

Distraction

Haechan as a Husband

Teddy Bear

Sweetheart

Good Luck Charm 

soft thoughts: #5 ✰ #6 ✰ #8 ✰ #10 ✰ #13 ✰ #14

Moodboards

happy mark day!

jungwoo Barbie

kitty taeyong

200 Followers Prompt Event (closed)

Prompts

Flustered | Johnny Suh

Listen to Me | Haechan 

300 Followers Prompt Event (closed)

Prompts 

Fake Dating | Jaemin

Hidden Feelings | Chenle

400 Followers Event 

NCT as Husbands Masterlist

[blossomwritesthings]

❦― 𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

❦― hello there beautiful human!

🥀 and welcome to my little comforting hollow that i call home here in this weird world of ours... i hope you enjoy your stay here.

⇾ ˚ ༘♡ latest pieces:

a fist full of pills, and rivers in my eyes (minlix angst & smut series)

weathering your shades of blue (felix x reader angst & smut series)

turn for me (minlix smut oneshot)

my rules & guidelines ⇾ ˏˋ read here ´ˎ

masterlist ⇾ ˚ ༘♡ skz ⋆｡˚

wip list ⇾ ✧ ˚ · . check out here ☄. *. ⋆

fic recs ⇾ ...[nsfw]◌ೄ skz recs m.list *ೃ༄ ...[sfw]◌ೄ skz recs m.list

my carrd :: ao3

❦― about me

《 blossom

《 proud girlie (afab)

《 monkey ♥ enfj ♥ taurus, sagittarius rising

《 may '04

《 sex-positive christian

《 i've lived all over the world (including south korea)

《 swedish + irish/scottish

《 full-time junior in uni w/a major in creative writing & full-time canine sales specialist

《 saw superm live: 2019 ♥ saw sf9 live: 2022 ♥ saw woodz live: 2023

♫― ults

《 exo (since 2015) ♥ jongin, baekhyun

《 shinee (since 2015) ♥ kibum, taemin

《 vixx (since 2015) ♥ taekwoon, jaehwan

《 nct (since 2016) ♥ mark, doyoung, xiaojun, haechan, renjun, hendery (fuck bro lit ALL of them 👹)

《 stray kids (since 2019) ♥ ot8

《 sf9 (since 2020) ♥ taeyang, zuho

《 the boyz (since 2020) ♥ sunwoo, kevin, eric

✬― casual listener ⇾ enhypen, day6, superm, txt, p1harmony, ateez, onlyoneof, cix, twice, snsd, red velvet, newjeans, le serrafim, viction, infinite, golden child, sunmi, woodz

ツ― other interests ⇾ baking/cooking delicious food, reading and writing filthy smut, youtube gamers (markiplier, daz, etc.), korean r&b/indie music (namely: colde, rad museum, jooyoung, hyukoh, thornapple, jukjae, oceanfromtheblue), taking pics of sunsets, the folk of the air, working out, cats & horses, atla/lok, niche perfumes, horror games/tv shows, kdramas/kmovies

❦― goodbye!

thank you for taking some time out of your day to look over my blog's navigation. i appreciate your support very much! have a wonderful day/night ahead of you~

© ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

[sluttyten]

miracle | guilty pleasure pt. 3

YangYang Masterlist || All Member Masterlist

Part 1: guilty pleasure || Part 2: love on the low low

summary: you’ve kept your relationship with yangyang a secret from everyone, but keeping a secret is hard, especially when you’re falling so fast in love.

length: 13,788 words

tags: secret relationship, semi-public sex, panty kink, oral sex, riding, possessive sex

YangYang’s smile is utterly distracting. 

The sound of his laughter fills your ears, and you try to refocus, to not let yourself get swept up in his proximity. You remind yourself that you’re in this small dressing room surrounded by the other WayV members, other stylists, managers, the whole team. 

It’s been difficult to keep your relationship with YangYang so secret as time goes on. 

The fact that you currently are inches away from his face doesn’t help matters. 

“Are you two gonna kiss?” Xiaojun teases from a few feet away. 

YangYang laughs again. 

“Like, God, at least take him out to dinner first.” Ten jokes from the seat beside YangYang. 

Usually their teasing wouldn’t bother you. 

But your fingers are currently in YangYang’s mouth. 

Kun clucks at his members. “Leave them alone. Ten, c’mere, I need your help with the choreo.” 

You’re forever grateful for Kun. You always have been, but especially so since he’s the only one outside of you and YangYang to know about your relationship. He’s been a huge help with distracting the others and helping to cover up for the pair of you when you slip up in public, kind of like right now. 

Not that this is a slip up. 

You being inches away from YangYang’s face with your fingers in his mouth has nothing to do with your relationship; it has everything to do with styling him for this music video shoot. 

Your boyfriend’s lips are glossy pink, shimmering and coated in lip gloss. And you’re currently attempting to fit silver teeth decorations on his canines. They resemble vampire teeth but in a silver style that you convinced YangYang to try by describing it as similar to æspa’s Savage logo. 

You pray that no one is still looking as you complete fitting the small decorations onto YangYang’s teeth. As you nod with satisfaction, YangYang briefly closes his lips around your fingers, tongue lapping against your fingertips. 

You jerk your hand back, leaning away from him. 

“Sorry, noona,” YangYang apologizes in a completely unapologetic way. 

“Mm.” You narrow your eyes at him. “I’m sure you’re sorry.”

He smiles, teeth glimmering, lips shimmering. God, you want to kiss him. 

The feeling doesn’t wane even as you move on to finishing styling Hendery next (without sticking your fingers in his mouth, which Ten manages to sneak in a comment about). You can’t shake your need for YangYang even as you sit by and watch the music video filming, as the long hours pass by, as you restyle him for a different part of the music video. 

By the time you finally get your hands on him in the semi-privacy of you dragging him into the creepy looking bathroom down a back hallway of this filming site, you feel like you’re going to combust. 

YangYang laughs quietly against your lips as you tug him against you. The grimy bathroom sink presses against your hips. The lights flicker a hideous shade of green-yellow fluorescence like you’re in a bad horror flick. 

His lips taste sweet. 

“Strawberry lip gloss?” You ask as you pull back, rolling your lips together to feel the tacky transfer of his lipgloss onto yours. 

He nods. “Noona told me it’s her favorite.” 

You wrinkle your nose. Obviously, you understand him calling one of the other stylists noona, but part of you dislikes it. That’s what he calls you, and the sound of him calling you that always sets you on fire. 

YangYang backs you up against the sink even more, his hands on your hips as he lifts you just enough for your ass to sit on the edge of the sink. “I know it’s going to be late when filming ends, but I can come over, right?” He tips his forehead against yours. “I want to sleep beside you.”

A warm bloom opens in your chest. 

He’s been so busy lately that he hasn’t been able to sleep over at your place in a while. 

You’ve missed sleeping beside him. 

“If you think you can get away.” You press a short kiss to his lips. “We don’t want the guys getting too suspicious of where you are.”

You press lightly against his chest, and YangYang takes a step back, giving you enough room to slip from the bathroom sink. He looks down at you as you straighten your clothes, as you wipe at your lips in an attempt to get rid of the shimmering remnants of his lipgloss on your mouth. 

“Noona,” he says, and your heart leaps. “Noona, how long are we going to keep this a secret from everyone?” YangYang reaches for your hand. “I want to show you off. I want to be able to talk about you. I know that we can’t tell the world, but can’t we at least tell my friends? I’m tired of hiding us.”

Voices echo in the hallway outside the bathroom. 

You drag your hand from YangYang’s, your brain whirring as you attempt to think of a valid excuse for why the pair of you might be alone together in this bathroom. 

Just before the bathroom door opens, you shove YangYang back against the wall behind the door, and you whirl around to face the sink. 

The door flies open, and reflected in the mirror above the sink, you see two of the stylists standing framed in the doorway. 

“There you are!” One of them calls from the door. “We were looking for you. I think we’re all going out for drinks after filming. Did you want to come?”

The other woman starts to walk inside, and you know that if she does, she will inevitably spot YangYang in the hiding spot behind the door. 

“Wait! You don’t want to use these toilets. The one is clogged up with toilet paper, and the other one just looks filthy, so unless you’re desperate…” You fib. 

“Ugh,” both other women groan in unison. One says, “No, there’s one back by the dressing room. We’ll just head back over there.” 

They wait for you at the door, so you pretend to dry your hands off with a paper towel, then exit the bathroom with them, hoping YangYang isn’t pissed at you for leaving him behind in the bathroom. 

It’s about two hours later that filming concludes. 

It’s about two hours and fifteen minutes later when you realize the other stylists didn’t mean it was only your team going out for after-work drinks. The members were coming too, as well as a couple of the background dancers, and two of the managers. There’s definitely no backing out of the hasty agreement you’d made in the bathroom, much to your disappointment.

Not that you don’t want to hang out with your coworkers for drinks. You do want that. 

But it impacts the plan YangYang presented you with in that bathroom first. The idea of heading home as soon as filming wrapped for the night, bringing YangYang to bed with you. Taking some time with each other in the safe privacy of your apartment. Getting to fall asleep beside him and wake up with him in the morning, neither of which you get to do very often.

Instead of heading home, you find yourself squeezed into a seat between a manager and one of your stylist friends at a table in a restaurant not too far from the filming site. YangYang sits across from you, and you try not to notice the way he’s completely avoiding eye contact and hasn’t spoken to you since you ditched him in the bathroom.

Drinks flow heavily at that table, and mixed together with the sleepiness you feel due to it being after midnight, it doesn’t take long before you’re feeling the buzz. You’re smiling, laughing loudly along with everyone else, chatting and joking around. You don’t notice YangYang get up and leave the room, not until he’s returning, slipping into the seat beside you that was previously occupied by the other stylist.

“I think you’ve had enough,” YangYang says, appearing basically from nowhere. He touches your wrist, easing your hand back down to the table. He loosens your fingers from the glass brimming with soju. “Or at least slow down, noona.”

Across the table, you think you hear one of his group members teasing you both, but you’re deaf to everything but the sound of YangYang’s voice, blind to everything but his still shimmery lips, numb to everything but his warm fingers still lingering against yours. 

He snaps his fingers in front of your eyes. “See, you’re out of it, noona. Looking at me like that. Everyone’s going to think that maybe I’m not the only one with a crush.” 

You open your mouth to argue that, to assure him that you’ve definitely got more than a crush on him, but then he pinches your thigh, and the sharp pain at your thigh ties a knot in your tongue. You frown, snapping your mouth shut. 

“That’s better,” YangYang says softly, a faint smile curving his lips. “That’s how you usually look at me at work, noona. Like I’m the greatest source of your frustration.”

Part of you wants to throw those words at him, tell him that he certainly is a source of your frustration, but another part of you has sobered up slightly from that hard pinch from YangYang, and you don’t want to say anything else to him right now when you’re not fully in control of what might slip through your brain-to-mouth filter.

YangYang turns away from you, picking up conversation with the manager on his other side. You kinda slip into a daze, zoning out a bit as you snack on whatever sits in front of you until you feel YangYang’s hand brush against yours beneath the table. 

You jerk your head upright, blinking against the way the movement blurred the room around you a bit. “Hmm?”

“Noraebang?” Kun is watching you from across the table. “We’re thinking of going to a nearby noraebang, but maybe you’ve had enough? You look pretty sleepy. Maybe someone should help you home.” His gaze darts briefly to YangYang. 

You shake your head no. “I’m good. I’m fine. Let’s noraebang!” You shove back from the table and stand up too quickly, the world spins and wobbles, and seconds later you realize you’ve just dumped yourself across YangYang’s lap. 

He grins at you in that flirty way he’s always had. “Hi, noona.”

“See, you’re definitely drunk if you’re falling into YangYang’s lap,” Kun announces. 

YangYang carefully helps move you back over to your abandoned seat. “Noona, maybe you should just go home. Hyejin noona?” He turns to one of the other stylists. “Can you help her make sure she gets home safely?”

You feel the sting of rejection at the loss of contact with YangYang, but a less-drunk and more rational little voice in your head tells you that he’s doing this for you. You’re drunk, and he’s trying to get you home without making it obvious to everyone at the table that he wants to be the one to take you home. And he’s trying to make sure that he doesn’t — in the eyes of his members and management team and stylist crew — look like a creep trying to take advantage of you being intoxicated when they all know that he’s got a crush on you. 

But still, you pout as Hyejin helps you to your feet. 

There are scattered goodbyes and goodnights from around the table as Hyejin leads you away. 

You’ve made it outside, stumbling over your own feet every few steps — maybe you have had a little too much to drink — and possibly a quarter of the way down the block, when you hear a shout behind you. 

Hyejin turns to look. You twist your head around but all you can see is a dark figure moving towards you quickly. 

Your heart thuds and begins racing. 

Hyejin starts fumbling for her bag even while still trying to drag you along towards the nearby bus stop. You reach for your bag too, thinking that if this is someone coming after what they probably think is two drunk girls, you’ve got pepper spray in your bag. 

But you don’t have your bag. 

You must have left it tucked beneath the table at the restaurant. 

Shit. 

You can hear the footsteps pounding the pavement behind you as your pursuer draws closer, still shouting out for you and Hyejin to stop. 

And then, “Noona, stop! You forgot this!” The pursuer calls. 

You jerk to a halt, spinning around right as YangYang finally catches up. He’s breathing hard, cheeks pink, hair a little messy, and your purse swings from his hand. 

Hyejin whimpers a little and collapses back against the wall of the building you’re next to. “Damn, YangYang, you scared us.”

You stare at him for a moment, and he stares right back at you. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, “for scaring you. I noticed noona’s bag, and I didn’t think you’d probably be able to get home without your apartment keys and stuff.”

Hyejin mumbles something. 

You take your bag from YangYang. “Thank you. But running up behind us in the dark wasn’t a good idea.”

“I get that now. I didn’t even think.” YangYang takes a step closer to you, glancing behind you at Hyejin for a split second before his eyes are back on yours. “I can help you get home, noona. When I suggested Hyejin noona take you home, I didn’t even think of how two women alone who’d been drinking might look like a target for bad guys. I can go with you, protect you.”

Yangyang puffs out his chest a little. 

You and Hyejin both laugh at that. He grins, only letting his smile grow brighter when you lift a hand and push lightly at his chest.

“You were taking the bus, right?” YangYang asks. “I’ll ride with you, make sure you both reach your stops.”

Hyejin eagerly agrees. 

You nod, feeling that warm blossom blooming in your chest again. You like when YangYang takes care of you, when he’s protective and concerned for you. 

The bus is perfectly on time, showing up about ten minutes later. The doors squeal as they open. Only a few people occupy the seats, but YangYang still squeezes Hyejin, you, and then himself into one row. You’re nearly sitting in his lap, which you don’t really mind, but Hyejin keeps giving him weird looks. Especially after the bus driver hits a big bump in the road; you rise up and come down hard on YangYang’s thigh, inciting a groan from both of you. YangYang’s hands fall to your hips, resituating you in his lap into a more comfortable position. 

Hyejin snorts. 

“What?” You ask.

She shakes her head. “This kid and his crush on you, and right now you’re giving him everything he wants.” She glances pointedly at his hands resting on your hips. 

You look down, and you swat his hands away. 

YangYang sighs. “I’m not trying anything, Hyejin noona. I swear. I’m not interested in forcing myself on anyone, and she’s had too much to drink right now, which means that she’s not in the right state of mind to make decisions.” He nudges you. “She can sit in your lap, if that makes you feel better about all this.”

You start to move like you’re about to shift over into Hyejin’s lap. 

She shakes her head quickly. “No, that’s okay. My stop is before yours, unnie. With YangYang here, vowing not to take advantage of you, I’ll just get off at my stop instead of taking you home first then backtracking to my stop. If that’s okay?”

“That’s fine.” You feel YangYang’s hand settle on your hip again. “I trust him.”

“And, by the way,” YangYang addresses Hyejin, “my obvious crush on her means that I want her fully in her right state of mind with me. If anything happens, I want to know it’s her decision, not something I forced on her. Reciprocated feelings are the best feeling in the world. Maybe someday I’ll get that from her.”

There’s a little too much honestly in his voice for that last sentence, and your heart sinks in your chest. Does YangYang think that you don’t feel the same? Is it because of your insistence in hiding this relationship? That’s for protection! For protecting both of you! 

Silence falls between the three of you as the bus trundles through the streets. 

Finally you reach Hyejin’s stop. 

She lives in a popular area. There are still a decent amount of people out on the street here. Bars and restaurants and clubs are still lit up even though it’s nearly two in the morning. 

“Do you want me to walk you to your apartment?” YangYang asks Hyejin as she rises to squeeze past you. “To make sure you get there safely?”

“But what about…?” She inclines her head towards you. 

“I’ll come too. I’m fine now, I think. Starting to sober up a little more, so I can walk with you and YangYang just fine.” To prove your point you stand up and walk down the bus aisle towards the doors. You only veer into one of the seats just once. When you reach the doors you turn back to look at Hyejin and YangYang. “See?” 

YangYang rolls his eyes with a little smile, but they both quickly catch up with you as you step off the bus. 

Hyejin’s apartment is just a short walk from the bus stop, and it’s along a well-lit populated street, so in all likelihood she would have made it safely home. But as you walk along between her and YangYang, with your shoulder bumping into him and your hand brushing against his, you can’t help that feeling in your chest again. 

There’s something about him genuinely caring about your friend’s safety that endears him even more to you. He keeps chattering with her as you walk, filling the silence until your trio reaches her door. 

“Thank you, YangYang.” She reaches into her bag for her keys, and she’s not looking at him as she says, “You’re a good kid, you know?”

He makes a small sound. You lean against the wall beside her door, and she glances at you with a secret, small smile. 

She pushes her door open. 

“Goodnight, Hyejin,” you say. 

“Goodnight to both of you. And remember, YangYang, no funny business.” She steps inside and twists around to look at him. 

“Nothing funny about my business,” is his quick reply. “When it comes to her, it’s all very serious business.” 

Hyejin looks between YangYang and you as you fold your arms and shake your head in disbelief. Her gaze narrows slightly, and she makes a soft “Hmm,” which can’t possibly be a good sign. 

“Goodnight, Hyejin,” you repeat, and then you grab YangYang’s arm. “Let’s go. I’m tired, and you know, I’m really feeling better. Maybe I can go the rest of the way home alone, YangYang.”

No sooner have the words left your mouth than your feet twist beneath you and you crash into YangYang’s side. He and Hyejin both laugh. 

“Not a chance, noona.” He waves back at Hyejin. 

A moment later you hear her door shut.

“Come on, noona. Let’s get you home.” YangYang casually drapes his arm over your shoulders, and he starts walking. 

Outside Hyejin’s building, the night doesn’t seem to be slowing down. Mixed crowds of people mill around, passing from bar to bar even though the establishments should probably be closing soon. 

“Y’know, I really wanted to go to the noraebang with everyone.” You tilt your head up to look at YangYang. “It’s been a while since I’ve been to one, and I’m sure you guys always make it fun.”

YangYang smiles. “We do. I’m sure we’ll go out again, all of us, sometime around the end of promotions. We usually do.”

And then you see a neon sign a short distance ahead of you. You clutch YangYang’s arm with one hand and you point with your other. “We could go right now! Just you and me?”

The neon sign blinks blue and pink. Noraebang. A little image of a microphone glows white surrounded by music notes that blink in yellow. 

“Please?” You press yourself against YangYang’s side. “Pretty please?”

He sighs in a way you’ve grown familiar with since this relationship started; it means he’s going to tell you yes, but he’s going to pretend to argue about it first. 

“Noona, do you remember earlier when I told you I wanted to come home with you tonight and sleep with you?” He asks. You nod. “I’m beginning to wonder if you even want that.”

“Liu YangYang.” You straighten up to your full height. You take his cheeks between your hands and drag his face around so he’s looking right at you. “Baby, I swear, I want nothing more than to fall asleep beside you and wake up with you tomorrow. I want that so much I can’t even describe it. But right now I also want to go have fun singing along to popular songs at the top of our lungs in that building right there. And I want to do it with you, so please, pretty, pretty please can we go? And then we’ll go home, take a shower, maybe we’ll even have sex, and then we’ll fall asleep together just like we both want?”

YangYang grits his teeth, and you begin to wonder if you’d completely gotten this wrong. 

But then he groans and pulls his head out from between your hands. He grabs one of your hands tightly in his and starts walking, dragging you along. Towards the noraebang. 

“You don’t know how much I want to kiss you right now,” he growls under his breath. “But I can’t because we’re in public.”

But within minutes you and YangYang are in a private room. The TV screen shows a selection of songs. The booth at the back of the room has crackly vinyl seats curved around a round table where the staff has already delivered the soju and snacks you’d hastily ordered. The lights are dim, filling the room with a blue glow. Somewhere in the distance, muffled by the soundproofing, you swear you hear someone scream-singing along to what you’re pretty sure is a BTS song. 

“We’re alone now,” you tell YangYang as you drop down onto the seats in the back of the room. 

“And?” He’s got the remote in hand, and he’s scrolling through the songs to choose one for you. 

“And you said you desperately wanted to kiss me, but we were in public. We’re alone now.” You lean back.

YangYang turns to you. “I thought you wanted to sing?”

“I do. But don’t you want to kiss me first?” 

YangYang walks back towards you. “Noona, if I kiss you, I’m not sure I’m going to be able to stop.”

You laugh. “You want me that much, baby?”

“Always.” He nods. “There’s never a time that I don’t want you desperately, entirely, madly. I’ve told you before, noona, I only have feelings for you. You are the only one I think of, and I literally haven’t fantasized about anyone but you in a lot longer than I care to admit. Do you know how long I’ve wanted to be with you? Have I ever told you that?”

You shake your head no. 

“I’ve wanted you since the day we met. I walked into the dressing room, unsure of how my day was going to go, and there you were. You were so pretty even though it was too early in the morning and everyone was half-asleep. And you were beautiful. I couldn’t take my eyes off you even then, and right away the guys started teasing me. But it only grew from there, you know? Because then I actually started getting to know you, talking with you, spending time with you. I, still to this day, haven’t found anything about you that I didn’t like. I… I like everything about you, noona. I want every single part of you.”

He kneels on the seat with you. Maybe it’s a trick of the light, but you swear YangYang’s hands tremble slightly as he reaches for you. 

You rise up, grabbing the front of his shirt, and you drag his mouth down against yours. 

YangYang flattens himself against you, pressing you down until you’re lying flat on the cushioned bench seat. He bites at your bottom lip, his tongue quickly swiping over the sharp sting. 

You knot your fingers in his hair, kissing him back hungrily, wanting more, needing more. 

He opens himself up, his tongue meeting yours. He shifts on top of you, fitting himself between your legs. 

Suddenly, loud upbeat music starts blaring, lights set into the wall beside the TV screen spin beams of light through the room. 

Yangyang almost falls to the floor in his hurry to pull away from you, his hands searching the seat, the floor, the table for the remote he dropped and must’ve accidentally selected a song.  

You laugh, which leads to him laughing. You grab one of the microphones, deciding that maybe you should actually do what you came in here to do instead of just make out with your boyfriend on this old vinyl seating. 

He eventually locates the remote, but you’re already singing along to After Like by IVE. 

Next is YangYang’s turn, and you choose Up & Down by EXID just because you want to see him do the choreography that you know he’s learned at some point. You sit back in the seat, sipping at a beer while you playfully toss pieces of popcorn at him while YangYang performs for you. 

You each take a shot of soju, and then it’s your turn. 

You continue on like that for a while. Your turn, then YangYang’s. Occasionally one of you finds a song to duet. There are shots in between performances, snacks and beers during. And although you’d started sobering up during the trip from the restaurant to Hyejin’s apartment, your buzz has quickly built back up again. 

Your singing is definitely growing more and more off-key with each passing round. And you and YangYang are growing handsier. 

After you finish a spectacular rendition of Eyes, Nose, Lips by Taeyang you’d serenaded YangYang with, you collapse into the seat beside him. 

“Have we had enough?” He asks, and his face is glowing and hazy, his cheeks rosy, eyes glazed. “Noona? Or do you want to keep singing?”

“Maybe a few more?” You suggest as you check the time. It’s after three in the morning, not quite four yet. You booked the room for two hours. 

YangYang nods and reaches for the remote to select the next song. He finds a selection that’s a playlist basically, so it will just play several songs back to back without the need for you to select them. 

The first song is a One Direction song, and YangYang stays seated beside you as he sings, bubbling through his performance. He’s finished off two beers and half the bottle of soju, so he keeps squinting at the screen as if he can’t see the lyrics very well. 

“You’re cute,” you tell him, sitting up on your knees so you can look at him better. “Very cute, YangYang. Cute, my baby.”

YangYang looks over at you. “I’m not a baby, noona.”

“No?” You tease. “You’re my baby, though. You let me take care of you and I make you feel good.” You lift a hand and comb your fingers through his hair, making his eyes flutter shut. “You’re a good boy for noona.”

YangYang groans, peeking one eye open. “I’m pretty sure I’m the one taking care of you tonight. Doesn’t that make you my baby? Huh?” He lifts his hand to mirror yours in his hair. “Can you be a good girl for Oppa?”

“Oppa?” You laugh, batting his hand away. “Is that what you want me to call you, YangYangie? I won’t.” You shake your head. “My baby, YangYang. Jagiya. Yeobo. Bǎo bèi.” His head tilts at the Chinese endearment from your lips, and then he bursts into a smile when you utter an English one next, “My love.”

“Is that what I am?” He asks. “Am I your love? Your one and only love?” 

You don’t know how you let that word slip out. You haven’t used it with each other yet. Yes, you know you have deep feelings for each other, but you’ve not admitted to being in love with him yet. 

You lift up on your knees and lean over to the table, and with hands that you pray aren’t shaking, you pour two shots of soju. When you turn around, you offer one to YangYang, but he doesn’t move, he just gazes up at you as you kneel there. For once you’ve got the height advantage. 

He doesn’t move to take the shot from you, just waiting for your answer. You throw back your shot, swallowing down the burn. 

“Yes,” you admit after a moment. “I love you, YangYang. I’m in love with you.”

His teasing mirth fades, and he gazes at you with a dazed look of awe. 

“Earlier you said that you hope someday I’ll reciprocate your feelings,” you say, “So I hope you’re in love with me too, or else I’m the one that’s waiting for you to catch up now. Are you?”

YangYang’s mouth falls open, but no sound comes out. 

“Do you love me, YangYang? Or is this just an intense crush?” You ask again. Still, he can’t seem to utter any words. “Do you need the courage to tell me?” 

You lift the shot you poured for him a minute ago. 

“Noona, I…” is all he manages before he falls silent again. 

“Here,” you say, dropping your free hand beneath his chin to tilt his head up. YangYang’s gaze rises and hooks on yours. You lift the soju glass. YangYang’s mouth falls obediently open, and he doesn’t look away from your eyes as you tip the glass and pour the soju down YangYang’s throat. 

He coughs a little as it goes down, and you draw the empty glass back. 

“Good boy,” you compliment him, running your thumb along his bottom lip to catch a stray drop. “Are you feeling more brave now to tell noona how you feel?”

The music is still playing in the background, a song that you can’t identify. You’re not going to look away from YangYang long enough to figure it out either. 

He opens his mouth, his tongue darts out to flick against the tip of your thumb. “Do you really need to ask? Is the way I feel not obvious?” 

When you feel YangYang’s hands wander to your thighs, drifting higher to your hips, you feel heat kick up in your belly. And then he nudges you to shift your weight, to kneel over his lap instead of just kneeling beside him. 

You settle over YangYang’s lap, still looking down at him, one of your hands rests beneath his chin. 

“Noona, I…” 

You wish he would cease cutting himself off. You want to hear him say it. You need to hear his confession to you. 

“YangYang, please.” You stroke your thumb along his bottom lip again, feel the heated exhale of his breath. 

He utters your given name, barely above a whisper. He doesn’t follow it with noona, just leaves it at that. Your name. His lips. His eyes never leave yours even while you seat yourself entirely in his lap. 

“I love you,” YangYang confesses breathlessly. His hands skim higher than just your hips, dipping beneath your shirt so he can feel the bare skin of your sides against his fingertips. “I am hopelessly, depthlessly in love with you. Drowning in it. Each day I sink deeper in love with you, which is saying something since I was in so far over my head even before the first night you kissed me. 

“But then you gave me a chance. You gave me that one night where you gave in and used me as your guilty pleasure. I knew you wanted only that, but as I said, I was already in love with you. I knew that was it for you, but I couldn’t help wanting more. More of your touch, your kiss, the heat of you wrapped around me. I needed you. I dreamt of having you like that again, but there was more than that. I dreamt of you, constantly. Of your smile, of holding your hand and walking down the street together. Taking you on dates. Random dreams that you starred in purely because you’re where my mind always turns to. I’m in love with you, noona. And I’m so tired of hiding it.”

 “Then let’s not hide it anymore.” You curl your hands around his neck, and you drag YangYang’s mouth to yours. 

He tastes like soju and salty chips, and he moans when you immediately sneak your hand to the front of his pants. YangYang is already delightfully half hard, his hips jerking up to push his semi-hard erection against your palm. 

Your tongue tangles with YangYang’s, and each of you tastes the moans of the other as YangYang’s hands on your body mirror the position of yours on him. He slides one of his hands inside your pants, inside your panties, finding your pussy damp and your clit already throbbing with the need to be touched. 

You grind against his fingers, suck on his tongue, and without even looking, you unfasten his pants and pull his cock out so you can properly touch him. 

“Noona,” he gasps, dragging his mouth away from yours. “Here?”

A surprised snicker escapes you. “You once begged me to touch you in a dressing room with all of the members and most of the staff about five feet away, but you’re nervous about doing this here? We’re alone.”

“I just… didn’t think this was really something you were into. Doing this in semi-public spaces.” YangYang licks his lips. “Like, touching each other beneath the clothes and making out, I can see how you’d be fine with that, but do you really want to strip down and have sex in here?”

Honestly, your main thought was that you were going to give him a blowjob that would have him crying out and moaning for you loud enough to test out just how soundproof this room really is, but now that he’s mentioned more…. 

“Absolutely.” You lean in, giving his lips a quick peck. “As long as you’re fine with that?”

YangYang nods. “Yes, noona. I’m so good with this.”

The song that comes on the machine in the background switches, miraculously becoming a sultry, sexy song right as you lift yourself from YangYang’s lap to stand in front of him instead. 

He sits there watching, face flushed and lips glossy from your kiss. His cock stands tall, rising from the opening of his pants, and he wraps his hand around himself as he looks at you. 

You drag your shirt over your head, letting it fall onto the table behind you. Next, you shimmy your pants down to pool around your ankles. 

YangYang’s hand works over his length, thumbing at the tip. He leans his head back, bites his lip, and watches you with his eyes half-veiled. “Oh fuck, noona. I— I can’t even tell you what I’m thinking right now.” His gaze roves hungrily over your bare legs, your barely-there thong, your bra that hugs your chest so well.

You lift your hands to your tits, making a show of unfastening your bra, letting it slide down from your shoulders before you drop it onto the table behind you. 

YangYang swallows, his throat bobbing around another soft moan. His eyes are glazed over with pleasure; his hand moves in slow, smooth strokes over his cock. 

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” you request. “YangYangie, tell me.” 

You sink to your knees despite the limited space, and YangYang’s eyes follow you all the way down. 

You try your best to ignore that the floor is sticky beneath your knees. Instead, you focus on tucking your hair back behind your ears before you lean in to lick up the pearly drop of precum beading at your boyfriend’s tip. 

“Fuck me,” he moans. He presses his thumb against his cock, applying just enough pressure to push the head between your lips. “Noona, I can’t tell you.” He shakes his head even as you’re sinking your lips around his cock. “You wouldn’t look at me the same if I told you what I’m thinking.”

There’s a thin string of saliva stretching between your bottom lip and his tip when you pull back. “Try me, baby. It must be really dirty if you’re worried.” You brush his hand away from his cock, letting your fingers take their place. 

He shakes his head again, whining as you only offer him teasing kitten-licks to his cock, avoiding the tip. “Noona, please!”

“Please what, baby? You haven’t told me what you want yet.” You trace your tongue along the length of him, and YangYang’s hands flex at his thighs, but he doesn’t move them from there. “What do you want?”

YangYang really sounds like he’s struggling with himself, whining and whimpering as you tease him with nothing more than light touches. It’s only when you spit on his cock and use just your fingertip to spread it around that he finally breaks. 

“Promise you won’t make fun of me, noona?” YangYang whines. 

God, what’s he going to say that he’s so worried you’ll take the wrong way?

“Hnng, please!” YangYang bucks his hips off the seat, trying to achieve more contact with you. “I feel gross, like a pervert saying this out loud. But you look so sexy right now, and I just really, really want to sniff your panties.”

Oh. 

YangYang goes still, waiting for your reaction. 

It’s gross, sure, but it’s definitely not anywhere near the worst thing that could have come out of his mouth. If that’s what he wants….

 “You want to sniff my panties, YangYang? Is that what you’re asking for?” You circle your thumb just beneath the head of his cock, making him squirm. “You want noona to make you feel good while you sniff my panties like a little pervert?”

YangYang nods, hips rocking against your touch again. “Please.”

“Okay, YangYang.” You stand up. “But we’re going to play by my rules, alright? We’ve only got so long before our time’s up in the room. So I’m gonna try to make this fast.”

You stand, and YangYang squirms in his seat as he watches you drop your panties, as you pinch the fabric between your fingers and you drop it right over his cock. 

YangYang snatches the thong up, brings the material to his nose. His fingers are clenched tight around the lace as he buries his nose in it, his eyes close, and his cock twitches. 

You must admit, the sight is a bit arousing. 

He moans, and his eyes flash open to look at you. You nod, encouraging him to keep doing what he wanted so badly. 

You straddle him, a knee on either side of his thighs, settling over YangYang’s lap. 

“Honestly, YangYang,” you tell him as you slide closer to him, spreading your legs a little more to shrink space between your body and his. “If I didn’t so badly want to test the limits of the soundproofing on this room, if the thought of hearing you moan for me didn’t get me so wet, I would stuff these panties in your mouth as a gag and let you soak in the taste of me.”

You swear his eyes roll back in his head. His cock twitches between your legs. And with a satisfied grin, you reach one hand down to guide YangYang’s cock to your entrance. Your pussy truly is so wet right now while you watch YangYang enjoying holding your scent right up against his nose. 

You drop your hips, sinking your pussy down around YangYang until there’s nothing left to take. 

“Mm, noona, you always feel so nice.” YangYang brings his hands to your hips, one of them still clasping your panties. “And you smell so fucking tasty.”

You drop your head forward to rest your cheek atop his head. YangYang wraps his arms around your waist, brushing his hands down to grasp at your ass again a moment later when you start moving on him. 

YangYang is immediately vocalizing — moaning loud enough to make it clear he’s feeling good, talking about the way you feel around him, rambling to you about how badly he’s wanted to ask to sniff your panties before. 

“And your tits, too,” he says, looking up at you with glistening eyes. “Fuck, noona, they’re just so pretty. I have to try so hard to not stare at them all day, to not let my thoughts hyperfixate on how much I wanted to suck on your pretty nipples all day. I just—“ 

YangYang’s face is at the perfect height right now as you’re perched atop his lap riding his cock. Your chest is right in his face. 

He leans in, and for a split second you feel the heat of his breath and then your mind clears out at the hot swell of his lips and tongue against one nipple, and his fingers are on the other, pinching and rolling, flicking the pad of his thumb over the hardened nub. 

With his face buried against your chest, his cock swelling inside you, and the all-encompassing heat of being with YangYang, you can quickly feel your orgasm rising. You knot your fingers in his hair, and you drag his mouth away from your tit. 

He looks fucked — eyes glazed over, cheeks flushed, lips glossy and parted with awe as he looks at you. A depraved moan spills through his pretty lips, and you can’t take it anymore. 

You kiss him. 

It’s a kiss of desperation, of overwhelming love and need and desire. You just need to be as close to him as possible in that exact moment. 

Your tongue dances with his while you hold his precious face in your hands. YangYang moans into the kiss something that could be your name, could be a swear, could be a plea for more or harder, or could be a warning that he’s about to cum. 

YangYang’s fingertips dig into your ass, palms bruising against your hips. He’s got you moving faster on him, and his hips are rocking up off the vinyl seat to drive himself to his orgasm. 

“Come on, noona.” YangYang murmurs against your chin when you momentarily break away from the kiss. “Cum with me, noona. God I need it. I need you.” His mouth slides back to yours, silencing whatever else he might say. 

He drags a hand from the curve of your ass, slipping it between your moving bodies. His fingers draw tight circles against your clit. His hand still on your ass pulls you down as he thrusts up, and all of it combines to have your orgasm sweeping pure bliss through your veins — your vision blinks out for a moment, toes curl, your nails bite into whatever part of YangYang you’re touching, your pussy pulses around YangYang, drawing him right into climax with you. 

Both of you are moaning into each other's mouth, clinging to each other, soaking in the sweet wonder that is a love confession followed by hot semi-public sex. 

YangYang laughs after a moment, and he tucks his cheek against your warm shoulder. “I think our time’s up tonight. But if we go back to your place, we can continue this.”

You don’t want to move, but you know that your time in this room is up. And the last thing you want is for an employee to have to come kick you out and find you both like this. 

You quickly gather your clothes and come to the unfair realization that YangYang actually remained fully dressed.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, just smirking while he watches you shimmy back into your pants. “And I’ll be keeping these, if that’s alright?” 

He’s already tucking your panties into his pocket, not even waiting for your response. For the record, you would’ve said yes; you would give him anything he asked for. 

One of your favorite perks to this job is the opportunity to travel overseas when the group has schedules to attend. A stylist is always necessary, and even if it’s a limited team, you’re always one selected for a trip. 

This time, only Ten and YangYang are going to LA. It’s a brief trip, just two nights. You’re flying in at midday on the first day, then one more full day, and leaving early the following morning. 

It’s been only a few short days since the noraebang. You’re still buzzing off the love confessions shared between you and YangYang. He’s been spending every moment he’s not at work with you, sleeping over at your place, still there when you wake up. These two nights you’re in LA have the potential to be rough; sleeping without him may be difficult now that you’ve grown accustomed to it these past few nights. 

“We’ll be okay.” YangYang brushes his knuckles against yours as you wait beside him to go through the security line. Under his breath, he says, “If anything, you can sneak over to my room.”

You have a feeling that you’ll probably take him up on that offer. 

Although you’d come to the decision together to no longer hide your relationship, you’re also not flaunting it or announcing it. You’re just being a bit more open, slowly wading out into these uncertain waters. You’ve told your families, but other than them, it’s still only Kun that knows with any certainty. 

Right now, that small brush of your hands together and an exchange of soft smiles is enough. Before, you’d have probably pulled away and made excuses to the nearest staff member about the minor moment of intimacy. 

While you wait to board the flight, you sit beside YangYang. Both of you are a bit sleep-deprived in an attempt to reset your sleep schedule to fit the needs of this LA trip, so you’re just sitting there quietly on your phones, occasionally joining in conversation with the two other stylists, two managers, and Ten. 

You’re separated for the flight. You have a seat back with the other staff members, and YangYang has a fancy first class seat. 

The hours of the flight drag by, stretching on forever, even when you sleep through a couple hours in the middle of the flight. 

Finally, your reunion with YangYang comes when you’re finally through customs. 

He and Ten stand within a cluster of security along with one of the two managers, waiting for you and the other two stylists to catch up. YangYang looks tired, eyes dim and shoulders slumped. He’s wearing a beanie pulled low over his recently bleached white hair, big headphones on to tune out the noise, and a mask hides most of his face. But he looks up as you approach, and his tired eyes brighten, he straightens up a little. 

“Hey, noona, how was your flight?” He asks, stepping towards the wall of security around him. They shift around, creating an opening that you easily slip through. 

Ten glances over at you, an appraising look followed by a small smirk as he glances between you and YangYang. 

“Too long. I’m ready to relax at the hotel for the rest of the day.” You run your fingers through your hair, and YangYang sighs softly. His eyes are on you, on your hair. “I’m thinking since there’s no schedule for you guys until tonight, it might be a pool day.”

YangYang nods. 

“Alright, everyone here?” The manager asks, doing a very quick headcount. “Let’s go.”

The other manager went ahead of everyone already. He took YangYang and Ten’s luggage, and he went to fetch the rental van, which he’s apparently got ready and waiting. 

As soon as your group steps out into the open, you’re bombarded by screams, camera flashes, people crying out Ten and YangYang’s names. 

“Fuck,” Ten mutters just ahead of you. 

You’ve traveled with them before, but you’ve never seen a crowd gathered this big. You’re also usually not directly clumped with them as they travel through the airport, but considering how small of a traveling party they’ve got this time, it would be silly for you and the other two stylists to navigate the airport separately. 

So when the security barriers break and fans come flooding towards their idols, that’s an all new experience for you. 

For one moment, you’re all safe surrounded by the wall of security guards, and in the next you’re a simple island in a wild sea, bombarded on every side by endless waves of pushing and shoving and screaming fans. Phones and photos and cards and gifts are being shoved into your face. Hands reach through the gaping security to grab at Ten and YangYang, grabbing you and the other stylists too in the confusion. People are touching and poking, pushing, pulling. 

And then someone falls. A fan outside the circle of security. 

One of the guards pushes a fan away. 

And then there’s a break in security just wide enough for a girl to slip through. She bulldozes into the circle, aiming for either Ten or YangYang, but she crashes into you, sending you straight to the floor. Several more fans close in, and in the rush, in the confusion, security breaks apart, allowing even more fans to flood in, separating you from them as security pushes Ten and YangYang away from the fans. 

Lost in all the noise and movement, you lie there dazed for a moment, curled in on yourself to keep from getting trampled. A spark of panic lights up inside you as you realize that you’ve been separated from the others. 

“Stop!” Someone calls out. 

You draw in, knees towards your chest, trying to cover your head as more of the fans step around you and over you. 

“Get back!” Another shout above you. 

You open your eyes when you feel a hand on your arm. 

YangYang. 

His face fills your vision, and his arms come around you. “Everyone, back off!” 

YangYang hauls you to your feet, tucking you protectively into his side as the security closes in tightly once more. You’re herded through the obnoxious crowd, and out through the airport’s doors. 

YangYang doesn’t loosen his hold on you. His fingers dig into your upper arm; your shoulder is shoved into his side. Somehow you’ve still got a good grip on your suitcase, although you’re just dragging it along behind you rather than rolling it. 

You reach the car. Security forms an arc around the open door of the van. Ten throws himself inside, the other stylists follow, and then YangYang makes sure you’re inside before he shoves your suitcase in after you, and then he follows, slamming the van door shut. 

Immediately, the manager driving pulls away from the curb. 

You haven’t even had time to buckle your seatbelt, nor has YangYang, but as you’re struggling with buckling it into place, YangYang is still distracted with you, his hands running over your arms, checking your hands, lifting to your face and feeling around your head. 

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? Fuck, I swear, if I find even a bruise on you… God, I’m going to be posting furiously on Bubble. Are they crazy? Do they not care about our safety or those of the people with us?” YangYang is frantic, too busy worrying over you to even concern himself with his seatbelt, so you reach over to do it for him. “You could’ve been seriously hurt, noona. And no one was even stopping to help you. They could have stepped on you.” 

“I’m fine, YangYang.” You brush his hand away from your cheek. “I just got knocked down. I’m fine.”

His hand returns to your cheek as you click his seatbelt into place. “Noona.” 

With an exasperated sigh, you look up at him. “Yang—“

He cuts you off with his lips against yours. 

Everyone in the car gasps. The car swerves as the manager driving twists his head to see what’s happening in the backseat. 

Your mind whirs, a whirlwind, a mess of wanting to pull yourself closer to YangYang while also wanting to push him away because Ten and the other stylists and the managers are right there. 

YangYang jerks back from you, and you blink away your dazed, warm feeling. 

“Dude, what the fuck?” Ten has a grip on the back of YangYang’s shirt, holding him back from you. “You can’t just do that!”

“Unnie!” One of the other stylists cries, and her arm is thrust between you and YangYang, trying to create space between you. Her face twists as she looks at YangYang, “Yah, bastard, you can’t just force yourself on a woman like that! Everyone knows you have a crush on her, but that doesn’t excuse—“

“We’re dating!” The force of your exclamation shocks everyone into silence. Even YangYang’s mouth pops open in surprise. “We’ve kept it a secret because, well, the unprofessional nature of it. But it’s happening, and we’re happy, and he’s actually definitely allowed to kiss me and act protective over me.” You reach for his hand.

YangYang, beaming like he just won at life, quickly laces his fingers through yours. 

Ten swears and throws himself back into his seat, folding his arms across his chest. “Well, this is great. Just great.” His tone indicates quite the opposite. 

“Ten?” YangYang cocks his head slightly, addressing the older man. 

Ten rolls his eyes. “I guess I just lost a bet, that’s all.”

You shake your head in disbelief. YangYang scoffs, and asks, “Do we even want to know?”

“Everyone was taking bets about the two of you. There was a secret group chat with everyone but you, YangYang.” Ten digs his phone out of his pocket, ignoring YangYang’s sharp sound of indignation. “Some of us bet that she was going to file a harassment claim, some thought that you would just lose interest in your crush, some of us thought you would end up together even if just for a hook up. Fucking….. Kun, though, he was the only one to bet that you were secretly together. He had evidence, but we all thought he was reading into it too much just because he’s a romantic.” 

Goddammit, Kun. 

He could’ve easily revealed this relationship before you or YangYang were ready. 

“And which was your bet?” You ask. 

Ten frowns slightly. “My bet was that you would just play along with his crush until it faded. I could tell you were more comfortable with him over the last several months, like you would go along with it when he flirted with you.” Ten looks genuinely a bit annoyed, when he says, “As much as I hate to admit this, I didn’t really think you were together; clearly I missed all the signs that Kun picked up on.”

YangYang laughs. “Yeah, well, it helps that Kun was one of the only people that knew about us.”

“What?” Ten exclaims. “Oh, I’m telling the group chat that Kun’s disqualified.”

You open your mouth to stop him, to keep him from exposing your secret to all of the members of NCT. But then you stop, you close your mouth, and you look at YangYang. He’s already looking at you, ignoring Ten’s grumbling in the backseat. 

You don’t stop Ten from messaging the others. 

Let him tell them. 

This relationship isn’t going to be a secret any longer. 

No one says anything to you or YangYang about your relationship for the brief duration of the trip. 

You rein in his wild frustration and anger at the mob of fans at the airport, convincing him not to go on an angry messaging spree on Bubble. It’s easy enough to dissuade him when you’re sharing his nice, spacious, private room. 

The issue comes once you return to Seoul. 

Almost as soon as you’ve touched down, you get the message requesting your presence for a meeting with YangYang’s company. Oh shit. 

Obviously, you already know what this is going to be about. Your face has been plastered all over the place by YangYang’s fans blasting you online. You’ve tried staying off of social media these last couple days, but any time you have opened anything there it is: clips from every angle of you falling in the airport, of YangYang yelling at the fans, photos of YangYang’s arm around you, and so many posts of people analyzing the moment, and so many people just hating on you. 

And they don’t even really know about your relationship with YangYang. They’re only speculating. 

But as you take a seat in an intimidatingly large meeting room, you know that speculation on the status of your relationship with YangYang is more than enough to get you both in trouble. 

YangYang sits beside you, neither of you touching the other despite how much you want to hold his hand. He’s nervous. You’re nervous. 

It goes about as well as you could have hoped for. 

Important people file into the room, question you and YangYang about your relationship, the severity of the relationship, how long it’s been going on, all of the questions that seem to be leading to their decision regarding something. 

YangYang is reprimanded for how he’d reacted at the airport — yelling at the mob of fans, apparently pushing a couple of them out of the way to get to you, and there’s at least one girl alleging that YangYang grabbed her to yank her out of the way. They hand YangYang an official apology to post on his social medias for the incident. 

And then they turn their attention to you. 

Finally, YangYang clasps your hand in his beneath the table. 

“We just don’t think, given your romantic relationship, that continuing a professional relationship would be proper,” one of the officials says to you. “And we have already reached out to your boss to proceed with termination.”

“You can’t do that!” YangYang angrily jolts to his feet, still holding your hand. “There’s no valid reason to fire her. Us dating hasn’t affected my work or hers this whole time!”

“I’ve made sure from the very start to not let it affect us at work,” you say calmly from your seat. You tug on YangYang’s hand, and he sinks back down beside you. “I didn’t go easily into this relationship with YangYang because I knew from the start, back when he just had a crush on me, that I couldn’t let anything happen because of exactly this issue. The lack of professionalism. I never meant for this to happen, but it did. I didn’t go seeking him out, and although YangYang had a very obvious crush on me for most of the time that we’ve known each other, he didn’t pursue me. It just happened. Feelings grew, our attraction became undeniable, we acted on our feelings. We tried to leave it at that, but…” You look over at YangYang now, needing him to steady you as your voice has begun to shake. “If you’re worried about how it might go if we break up, well, we can draw up a contract or something that if that ever happens, no one will claim that it was harassment or anything like that. We can make a contract that says I’ll quit if we end things, or you can move me to styling a different group or something. Just, please, don’t fire me.”

“We could demand you end this now,” a cold-faced man says. He leans back in his seat and folds his arms across his chest. “Just be done with this altogether.”

YangYang scoffs. 

“I’m going to be perfectly honest,” you tell all of them gathered around the table. “If you force us to break-up, it won’t last and we’ll just get back together secretly.” 

YangYang laughs. “Exactly. I love her, I’m not ending things with her any time soon. No matter what.”

Somehow, the two of you resisting them seems to confuse the officials around the table. Did they really think this could all be resolved so simply?

“I’ll post the apology,” YangYang promises, “But I’m not letting go of her. No matter what happens.” The last part he addresses to you, fully turning in his seat to face you. 

“No matter what happens,” you promise him, too. 

The seats of power converge at the far end of the table from where you and YangYang sit, and they whisper amongst themselves for several minutes while you sit there in anxious silence. 

When they finally separate and return to their individual seats, staring at you and YangYang with their hands folded before them on the table, you want to bite your nails or scream or get up and just leave the room. You feel like a criminal sitting before the judge and jury, awaiting the verdict. 

If they choose that your boss should move forward with terminating you, then that’s it. Your career is over. You’ll be blacklisted, and you’ll have to start over as something new. 

The woman seated at the opposite end of the table seems to be the one in charge, and she makes the announcement.

She clears her throat, and shifts slightly in her seat. 

“We have decided that, given your decision and openness in admitting that splitting the two of you up is pointless, that we’ll not interfere with your relationship, but,” and here your heart skips, ceasing its beating almost entirely until her next words, “I believe our best course of action would be to move you to a different styling team. You can take over styling aespa or NCT Wish, perhaps. We’ll have to have someone find an appropriate team for you, shift some things around.”

“Oh, fuck,” you sigh with relief, leaning over and dropping your face against YangYang’s shoulder. He clings to your hand, squeezing comfortingly. 

“We want you, YangYang, to post that apology there.” The woman continues, “And you’ll be on probation for the next few months. Any further issues such as fighting with the fans, inappropriate conduct in general, and you’ll be placed on a temporary hiatus which we’ll excuse as health issues. Understood?”

Certainly. 

And you find yourself grateful as you and YangYang voice your thanks to the powerful people, as you leave the room together, as you walk down the hallway to the elevator. 

As soon as the elevator doors close behind you, you turn to YangYang, throw your arms around his shoulders, and drag him into a tight hug. You rest your head against his shoulder, breathing in deeply. 

His arms surround you as well, his lips press against the crown of your head. “We’re alright now. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” He laughs softly, but you can’t bring yourself to laugh about it just yet. “Now all of my coworkers and bosses know about us, what’s there to be so scared of? We’ve still got each other, still got our jobs.”

You draw back so you can look up into his eyes. 

YangYang smiles. His hand comes up to cup your cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You lean in and kiss him, your lips meeting just as the elevator doors slide open against behind you. 

“Oh, God,” comes the exclamation from outside the elevator. “Is this what it’s going to be like now?” 

Xiaojun comes inside, Kun and Renjun accompanying him. Xiaojun turns his back to the pair of you. Kun just laughs as he presses the button to close the doors. Renjun looks at the pair of you while he shakes his head in disbelief. 

“I almost didn’t believe Ten hyung’s text about this.” Renjun gestures at you both. “And I can’t believe you didn’t tell me, bro. I’d have been so happy for you.”

YangYang’s smiling again, his hand on your hip pulls you a little closer. “If it makes you feel better, we didn’t tell anyone. Kun just figured it out.”

“Because you two weren’t doing a very good job of keeping it hidden.” Kun glances over. “I don’t even want to tell you guys what I had to witness. Dressing room shenanigans.”

Xiaojun’s mouth drops open and he looks at you. “Noona?!”

Your face feels warm, and you hide away in YangYang’s chest again. 

“Regardless of shenanigans and secrets,” Renjun says, “I’m happy for you both.”

That’s the same sentiment you get from all of the NCT members in the following days. They’re happy for you and YangYang. Most of the other stylists act surprised, only Hyejin seems totally unsurprised, and she even confesses to you that she suspected as much during that trip home with YangYang. The other members of your styling team, those that worked directly with you for WayV as well as others who you’d only worked with on occasion, all express surprise and even some mild jealousy as well as a lot of wanting to gossip with you. You keep your lips sealed about your private details though since the last thing you want is to have your secrets leaked to any tabloids or sasaengs. 

You’re shifted over from WayV to work on styling NCT Dream since your style of styling fits better with them than NCT Wish. 

Your relationship with YangYang is not as easy as it was before when your schedules always lined up perfectly, but you keep making it work, making time for each other even if it means fifteen minutes together at your apartment, two minutes in a stairwell at the company, phone calls and video calls while you’re commuting. 

The greatest blessing is when Dream and WayV’s schedules overlap or when the company decides to throw all of the NCT units together for a project or anything when one of the Dream members (usually Renjun) participates in something with YangYang. 

“Remember you’re here for me and Chenle,” Renjun reminds you when the company remembers that NCT Life is something they can do. The cast for this season is composed of the Chinese members — Kun, WinWin, Xiaojun, Hendery, Renjun, YangYang, and Chenle. 

“Of course.” You agree, but also they’re going for a very natural look during this filming, so it’s not like they really required a stylist to come along. Hair and makeup, yes, that makes sense. But your focus has always been on the clothing and accessories. You’re hardly necessary.

Not that you’re complaining. 

The first night, after the dinner is done, after they’ve played games, after they’ve gone to bed for the cameras, the cameras get turned off and everyone comes back out to share some drinks before bed. The filming crew and staff members like yourself pack up and trek over to the house where you’re all meant to be staying. A couple managers and the director remain in the house with the members. 

And you kind of just hang out until the last minute, until one of the managers sends you a sideways look as YangYang takes you by the hand. 

“Can’t even go one night without each other?” Hendery teases as YangYang leads you down the hallway to the tiny single room that he won in their games earlier. “You should let noona go sleep in a real bed, YangYang!”

You both ignore him. 

The room he won in the games was easily the worst of the lot. It’s hardly more than a storage closet with only a pallet of blankets and a single pillow on the floor. There’s a single camera mounted in the hallway outside the door because the room isn't big enough to hold the camera and a sleeping pallet at the same time. 

“Sorry, noona,” YangYang apologizes as he closes the door behind you both. “If you want to go sleep at the staff house, I understand.”

“Absolutely not. I want you.” You make sure he’s got the door shut, one last glance around the room to double-check there aren’t any cameras in here, and you reach for the plaid button-down shirt he’s wearing. 

YangYang grins when you all but rip the shirt open. At least one button does pop off, but you don’t care because his bare chest is revealed. 

“I want you,” you repeat to him, and you step closer as you push his shirt down off his arms. You curl a hand around the back of his neck, and YangYang can’t stop smiling as you drag his mouth to yours. 

His fingers work your shirt out from where it’s tucked into the waistband of the skirt you’re wearing, lifting your top up by the hem as he bites your bottom lip. 

You moan. “Are you gonna be a bad boy, YangYang? Aren’t you still on probation? Do you think fucking me in here when there’s a camera for your reality show right outside the door is appropriate?”

“Didn’t you start this?” YangYang asks, tugging your shirt over your head, and his gaze drops straight to your tits. “Stripping me as soon as the door is shut?”

“I don’t know what you mean. I’m innocent.” You put on an expression of pure innocence even as you’re reaching back for the clasp of your bra. The fabric drops away. 

YangYang’s eyes don’t waver from your chest. He swallows, and then, to your delight, he reaches for you. YangYang lifts you, his arms beneath your ass while you twist your legs around his waist. He backs you against the wall, and his head lowers to your chest. 

The first hot swipe of his tongue over your nipple draws a heated gasp from your lips. Your hands fly to his hair. 

“YangYang,” you sigh his name, which dissolves into a moan when his lips close around your nipple. 

He brings a hand up to your other tit, thumb circling the sensitive nipple, flicking over it, toying with you until you’re squirming between him and the wall, arching your chest into the heat of YangYang’s mouth, breathing heavily for him. 

“Noona,” he breathes against your chest. “Don’t hold back for me tonight, okay? Be noisy with me.”

You twist your fingers in his hair enough to elicit a hiss from YangYang. “You’re pushing your limits, you know that? Are you trying to annoy everyone? Or are you just excited to show off how good you make noona feel?”

In reply, YangYang lowers his head again to mouth at your breasts, his hands pressing both of your tits together so he can draw his tongue along the dip between them. His hips roll forward, and you’re pinned entirely between him and the wall. You swear you can hear voices on the other side, just behind you through a few inches of wall. 

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” You ask. “YangYang, you want the others to hear how good you’re fucking me? How I’m only yours? Are you jealous, or something? Who’s in there that you want to show off for?”

He captures your previously neglected nipple lightly between his teeth. He follows that with the soothing heat of his tongue, your nipple sucked into his mouth. 

“WinWin ge,” he whispers a moment later when he’s paid enough attention to your nipples to have you feeling quite wet. “WinWin ge was talking about you earlier. He’s been feeling testy lately, and I think I irritated him when we were sent on the grocery trip, so he decided to get back at me by talking about you. Questioning certain parts of our relationship.” 

You pull him in for a kiss. “You never need to doubt any part of our relationship, YangYang. I love you, and you have left me sufficiently satisfied every time we’ve been together.”

He snorts. “Even the first time?” He looks doubtful, amused too with the memory of him cumming so quickly the first time you were together. 

You nod. YangYang’s lips part as if to voice his doubt of that, but you lift your hand, fingertips tracing his lips as you reassure him, “Yes, you came a little too quickly for my liking that night, but you made up for it. With your lips, your tongue. Even though I tried to change things between us after that night, I hope you know I couldn’t stop thinking of how amazing your mouth felt on me, your tongue inside me.”

This draws his familiar smile into being. “Really? You’ve never told me this.”

You draw your pointer finger over the bow of his upper lip. “I must admit I touched myself a fair few times between that first night and the second, thinking about your head between my thighs, the sweet sounds you made as you got lost in tasting my pussy.”

YangYang’s lips close around the tip of your pointer finger, his teeth just barely grazing your skin. 

“I think you’ve got a little bit of an oral fixation, but that’s alright,” you tell him, “because since that first night I’ve honestly been pretty obsessed with your oral skills too.”

“Should I show them to you now again, noona?” YangYang brings his hands back to your thighs, and he steps back from the wall, his hands helping to ease your legs down. Your feet hit the floor. YangYang’s hands rise as the rest of him sinks down to his knees. He bunches your skirt up towards your hips, and you gaze down at him. 

You drop a hand to the front hem of your skirt, pinching it between your fingers and drawing it up so you have a clear view as YangYang situates himself comfortably between your thighs. You can feel his breath on the skin of your upper thighs, his hands are warm on your legs, and then one of his hands meets the fabric of your panties. 

His fingers are light, gliding along your slit through the material. 

“You’re soaking through, noona.” YangYang circles his fingers against the material where it's the wettest. “Do you want me so much? I want to hear you say it.”

“YangYang,” you moan his name. “God, please, I need you.”

There’s his smile again, so pleased to hear that you need him. He leans in, and with your panties still in place, YangYang flicks his tongue over your clit for a second before he really gets to work. 

He drags your right thigh up over his shoulder, opening you up a bit more for him, and he sinks closer. Still working over your panties, YangYang does his best to simulate eating you out, his tongue flat against your clit while you whine and roll your hips. 

“More,” you hiss. “More, YangYang! I need your tongue.”

He shifts back only long enough to drag your panties down your legs. You hear the elastic snap, a bit of the fabric rips, but then your panties are on the floor behind him, and YangYang’s diving back in, bringing your leg back up to his shoulder. 

You tip back until your shoulders hit the wall with a thud matched by the moan you let out as YangYang’s mouth finally comes in actual contact with your pussy. 

YangYang devours you, his tongue is magic, spiraling you quickly towards climax. 

His arms are there to keep you aloft when your orgasm weakens your knees and your one leg you’ve got to stand on (since the other is draped over YangYang’s shoulder nearly collapses. He keeps eating you out while you cum around his tongue, soaking his chin and lips. 

You don’t know or care how much noise you’re making. You’re sure if any of them really care about how loud you’re being, they’ll have no problem coming to the door to voice a noise complaint. 

When you can’t take anymore, you have to push YangYang away by the forehead. He gazes up at you with his pupils blown wide like he’s high on the taste of you. His lips and chin glisten in the light. “Noona, you’re my favorite.”

“Favorite what?” You gasp, still catching your breath from the last tremors of this most recent climax. 

“Favorite everything.” YangYang’s hands climb up your thighs, and you don’t have the energy to swat away his hand when his fingers find the heat between your legs. Instead, your knees just give out, and you sink down to straddle YangYang’s lap. 

Hands on his cheeks, you pull him in. You taste yourself on his lips and chin and tongue. Rivulets of your wetness have trailed over his cheeks, and he moans in soft delight when you trace those faint trails with your tongue. 

He’s so hard beneath you, a solid shape in his shorts that you rub against while his fingers press inside your pussy from behind. 

YangYang falls backwards, his shoulders hit the floor, and you hold yourself above him, hands planted beside his head. You don’t stop kissing him, unable to get enough of your taste blending with his.  

“Fuck me, YangYang,” you murmur. “I want to feel you inside me. I need your cock, fill me up like only you can.”

His fingers leave you empty, but you can feel him fumbling with the basketball shorts he’s wearing. You feel him pushing them down to his knees, feel his hands moving, and then at last you feel the head of his cock against your entrance. 

You break the kiss so you can sit up straight, and you sink down on YangYang’s cock. 

Your skirt pools around your hips and thighs, shielding from view the place where your bodies join. YangYang, clearly not a fan of not getting to see that, grabs your skirt and pushes it up. 

You fumble for the zipper at the side of your skirt, and you unzip it enough that you can drag it up over your head, leaving you entirely naked while you ride your boyfriend. 

YangYang and you move in tandem. He lifts his hips to drive into you while you grind down on him. YangYang’s hands rest on your hips and thighs, and you cover his hands with your own, lacing your fingers through his. 

“Fuck, noona,” he moans, rocking his hips off the floor, his fingers digging into your thighs.

You lean over his chest, sliding one of your hands along his torso until your fingers are brushing his collarbone. “YangYang, c’mere.”

He jolts up, his mouth on yours again, his tongue sliding against yours messily. You press your chest against his, and you take a seat on his cock, just clutching at YangYang while he holds you and kisses you, neither of you making a move for a moment, just feeling the throb of his cock inside you and the pulsing of your walls around him. 

“Love you,” you confess against his lips. “I love you. I love you.” 

YangYang, again, smiles. “I love to hear you say that. Especially like this.” He kisses you again, and then suddenly he’s got you beneath him, your back on the floor and YangYang’s hands press against your inner thighs to open you up as they fall to the side. 

You rake your fingers through his hair and down the back of his neck, over his shoulders and down his chest. YangYang shivers, rolling his hips forward. 

“Baby,” you tease, “Cum for me. Show me just how much you love me. Cum deep inside me. Claim me as yours.”

“Am I yours?” He asks, the words breathed over your lips. 

“Always.” You lift your head to kiss him. 

YangYang covers you with his body, kissing you deeply as he starts moving. 

You both take each other apart slowly now, letting the swell of emotions take over as you touch and kiss and just simply enjoy being so close and intimate with each other. 

You know you’re not restraining your noises at all. If YangYang does something that feels particularly good, you moan loudly, you gasp, you call his name. He does the same. 

And the volume only increases as you grow closer to orgasm. 

A thump on the wall. 

“Shut the hell up!” WinWin’s muffled voice comes through the wall. 

You laugh, and YangYang does too, which does something strange and pleasant to your body to have you both joined together and laughing. 

It takes some readjustment before you continue. 

YangYang sits up again, and you fix yourself in his lap, facing him with your ankles crossed at his tailbone. You kiss him again, each of you smiling and laughing into each other’s mouths, and you move together. YangYang slips a hand down between your bodies to touch your clit, stimulating the bundle of nerves with tight circles of his fingers. 

Your orgasm comes hard and fast, stealing your breath away, and hitting you with all the force of a lightning strike. YangYang spills into you immediately after, his climax racing through him. 

You cling to each other, just holding each other while you breathe and come down together. Your hearts pound in tandem, chests rising and falling in time with the other. 

“That felt so fucking good.” You hug him tightly, resting your cheek on YangYang’s shoulder. “I love you.”

He kisses the crown of your head. “I love you, too. And I don’t want to move, but should we go clean up?”

You sneak to the bathroom down the hallway, and you both shower off quickly, then head back to his tiny closet bedroom. It’s not the most comfortable spot to sleep, but it’s so much more comfortable than the twin bed or air mattress you would’ve had in the staff house because here you’re able to sleep beside YangYang. 

You get comfortable, snuggling up to YangYang with one of your legs draped over his and your head pillowed on his arm. You’re happy and sleepy and satisfied. 

And you know in the morning the cameras are probably going to catch you sneaking out of YangYang’s room, but anyone who witnesses that or sees it on the raw unedited footage isn’t going to be surprised. 

It has always been a well-known fact among the group and the staff members that Liu YangYang has a ridiculously large crush on you. And now, you sleep with a smile on your face knowing that it’s also become common knowledge among them that that crush has become this love. 

a/n: it's been a long, long time since I posted parts 1 & 2 of this one, but this part 3 finale has been on my to-do list for a long time. I'm hoping that this is only the first of the ideas that I'll be crossing off my list before the year's over, and I'm hoping that you'll all be here to enjoy them!

If you've read this far, then thank you so much! Likes, reblogs, comments, and messages are forever and always appreciated! They're what keeps me writing and posting on here!

[softsan]

[6:02 AM] - Prince!Xiaojun had treaded through the maze of thrones and cut down the poison ivy that scaled the walls of your castle and covered the entrance of your chambers.

“Y/N,” He whispered, regret lacing his words.

He should have realized and come to save you sooner. You had lied to protect him. You had endured his heartbroken jabs and his angry curses. You were willing to have Prince!Xiaojun hate you as long as you could ensure his safety.

Prince!Xiaojun stepped into your chambers, noticing a spinning wheel in the corner of the room. It was covered in dust and cobwebs, left idly untouched for years.

“I’m sorry,” Prince!Xiaojun bent beside your bed, his finger gently brushing the strand of hair that had fallen over your eyes, “I should have known. I should have done more.”

You lay lifeless and cold and in the deepest of slumbers. Your face contorted in pain as if the dreams that plagued you as you slept brought you nothing but horror.

Prince!Xiaojun had been told the only way to undo Maleficent’s curse was with a kiss. A kiss could awaken the hundred-year sleep that had swept over your kingdom.

Prince!Xiaojun stoked your cheek, gingerly pressing his lips against yours.

Please wake, Y/N.

Your eyelids slowly began to flutter, eyes he had sorely missed staring back at him.

“You came back,” You managed to murmur.

[p-oisn]

Hiii! Um so, I wanna make a moodboard for you, so can I please know your biases (fav color/aesthetic/things too optionally )? <33

Lovve love love your blog (ive said this so many times but i'll say it again fr) and I hope this isn't too much trouble! 💓💓💗💖💕🫶🫶

the way you've alr made me a mb recently 😭 but ofc !!!

my biases are hao (zb1) haechan, jaemin, taeyong, xiaojun, renjun (nct) yunjin & kazuha (le sserafim) yena & yuri (ex izone/soloists) huening kai (txt) chuu & yves (loona) hayoung (fromis) ningning (aespa)

there are waaay more but these are some i can list from the top of my head

my fav colours are pink, beige n black ! I also really like sanrio n horror :3

and thank you so much you're so adorable oh em gee 💞😢

[lovelornji]

right hello!

a lot has changed if your still about from when i made this account, so let me reintroduce myself.

my names enzo, im 18, im a non binary lesbian (any pronouns), ill mainly be posting about kpop and f1, but some other interests scattered in!

im on twitter (lovelornji), and insta (enzen.trades) so feel free to add me there too! but lookin for new moots

kpop:

stray kids (han, felix, seungmin)

ateez (wooyoung, hongjoong)

enhypen (sunoo, jungwon)

mcnd (castle j)

xikers (sumin)

nct, 127 (taeyong, haechan), dream (haechan, renjun), wayv (hendery, xiaojun), wish (undecided i will update)

xdinary heroes (gaon, jungsu)

btob (minhyuk)

itzy (ryujin)

f1:

fav teams:

mclaren, ferrari, williams

fav drivers:

oscar, lando, logan, alex, charles, liam lawson, yuki tsunoda

other interests:

the winkies (yt), pyrocynical (yt), saw, dead by daylight, horror, country music, fortnite, jujutsu kaisen

[xdjville]

hii hope ur doing well! 8 and 11 for the ask game? :0 (plus i recently changed my url so instead of bambisnc could u tag @0-hoony in your works please? tysm!)

omg hi!! i'm doing alright, hope you've been well too <3

8 - what is your dream collab?

i could talk about this for days you don't even understand. there's so so many artists i would love to see together BUT one thing i've been thinking about more recently is how much i'd want to see sb19 (the gento guys) and nct collab! i've been getting into the former group since they released moonlight a while ago and i am hooked, and obv nct is one of my ult groups so what else could i want from life

11 - three biases you'd go and watch a horror movie with

wait that's actually such a good question, i love horror movies! because this blog is only for nct i'll change it to just nct members instead of biases though. i feel like if i'd want to watch it seriously, like if a new movie was coming out and i really wanted to see it i'd go with kun, jaehyun, and jaemin, but if i wanted it to be more chill and just have fun (and make fun of them) i'd be xiaojun, haechan, and ten

and ofc, i'll change your url in my taglist!