*Summer comes and goes. Or, a drabble I wrote at 1:58 am. Unedited.

Characters: Jaemin, Reader

Pairing: Jaemin/Reader

Genre: Soft Angst? // Musings

Word Count: 918

Warnings: definitley maybe makes zero sense // ramblings

Summer never stained you right. Too red, too orange, too yellow against the backdrop of honey dew and crushed clay, your skin and eyes dull even when you were basking against the limitless rays of tilting sunlight. Chlorine toxicity lightened your hair, pulling from your roots the comforting memories of spring haze and winter consistency. July was too hot, August was the first bite of reality amongst waves of long-chased rain and blanching heat. Summer was the extreme swing of the pendulum, like testing the waters when you could still see the steam rising and your toes turning blue. It was discomfort in the relaxation, sweat-stains and loose hair-pins, warm breezes casted down from the gentle hands of Apollo- it was too much and never enough.

Two and a half months of respite. Two and a half months of the poorly constructed delusion brought by heat-stroke and hallucinogenic sea-water off the coasts of Florida. Two and a half months to make memories that last a week.

It only took one month.

“Jaemin.”

Summer never made someone look so right. Bronze dusted his shoulders like cinnamon over fresh-baked bread, cheeks ripe like sweet cherry jam, chestnut hair that caught the sunlight in a halo of hand-spun gold. He was painted on the pages of Greek Fables with wheat in one hand and a spear in the other, sharpened tip pointed towards your heart.

His voice was the saccharine relief of  misted rains, healing smile to hang the moon, hands slotted against your chin to tilt your head just right. Classical perfection. Classical tragedy.

He stopped you on a street corner with a smile, a smirk, eyes alight with intrigue. There was a book propped open beside his untied shoe, a bright yellow post-it note with a large crease down the middle holding his page as he sat on the curbside, head hung back to look at you. In the end you’ll blame your curiosity, your fatigue with monotony.

Your eyes were stilled glued to the top of the page in his book, eyes squinting to adjust to the white-reflection that oppressed the wash of the paper. You had briefly wondered how he was able to read against such a violent luster, but you’d come to figure that light wouldn’t bother him, even when it burned. Seconds came and went, and as a bird perched itself on a high-wire you finally slit your eyes enough to make out the title of the book: All The King’s Men.

“Do you always stop to invade strangers’ privacy, or is it something you only do on Tuesdays?”

Eyes wandering, brain too-slow in the heat, you pulled yourself away from the yellowing spine of the book and met the owner. You decided you’d rather melt your retinas against the words of Robert Penn Warren than his 1,000 watt smile any day.

“Typically, it’s a Wednesday activity, but I was pretty booked for tomorrow,” you rattled off subconsciously. A trick you never mastered as a child was keeping your mouth closed, and your limp appeared more so in front of too-pretty boys with frayed Nikes.  

You wish you could’ve said your comment made him smile, but the grin hadn’t even started slipping from his mouth since you first stopped behind him. Maybe it was a warning.

He held your hand a week later in the middle of a bookstore, giddy with excitement as he listed off his favorites- favorite everything: books, authors, music, ice-cream flavors, the way the light had to shine for him to feel that feeling (you know what I mean). You remember that his palms were hard, fingers warm and bony, but his grip was sure. He entwined your thumb with his and pressed against your knuckles, hair falling into his eyes as he took strides too-long for you to keep up with, your arms taut between the two of you has he pulled. You always followed him.

You shouldn’t have let it feel so good.

He kissed you three days later in a park, his hands gripping the sides of your face while his pinkies hooked underneath your jaw. You were sitting on the edge of a rubber swing, and your biceps stung like hell from where the chain burned red, interlocking ovals into your exposed skin. He had been pushing you by your knees, hands hotter than the chains, his nose almost brushing yours when he leaned down. You’d let yourself be caught by him, pepsi cola filling your senses, cold teeth pressing into the sweat that gathered on your bottom lip. He’d had a bruise from where you had accidentally kicked him in the shin with your forward momentum, and he had pulled the hair at the nape of your neck too hard, but it still felt like pop rocks going off in your chest, fresh summer-love that made memories for a lifetime.

Summer never painted you before, never splattered blushing cheeks and dirt-covered hands across your skin. You never let yourself jump into the water head first, arms opened to receive something. The heat of July was welcomed, relished in, your back simmering against the pavement as you watched fireworks bloom in the night sky, felt them blossom in your stomach. Time froze against newton’s cradle, his hands to cusp their swing. But nothing lasts forever.

Two and a half months was just a phase of twelve.

Summer was a just a phase of four seasons.

You were just a phase for him.

FIN.

*Based off of ‘Kaguya-Sama: Love is War’. Two hopeful, blind, and awkward teenagers and the schemes that they desperately pull to make the other confess.

-or, Jaemin needs coffee.

Characters: Reader, Jaemin, Renjun, Haechan, Jeno

Pairing: Jaemin/Reader

Genre: Fluff // F2L // Mini Series

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Scheming // None

a/n: i’ll be writing this in 3rd person, which isn’t typical of me, so hopefully it isn’t awkward. let me know if i should continue this!

I. 

Jaemin nearly caught the smile on her face.

Which would’ve been the bane of her carefully constructed plan, one she had barely set into motion, and if there was one thing Y/N did not do, was fail.

The blues that usually only dusted his glaring eyes was more potent today, settling into a deep, midnight bruise. Part of her (a small part) felt bad for distressing him, but she knew that to win a battle there would always have to sacrifices, whether that meant her conscience or Jaemin’s alertness, it didn’t matter. If he did his part, it would fix itself, because there was no way he could operate without coffee, not even for one school day.

And Y/N knew her- er, the vice president well enough to know he would refuse to expose this weakness to the school’s highly respected, elite community of students. He was exactly where she wanted him.

Keep reading

*Competitive nature takes a turn into something more intense.

anon request

Characters: Jaehyun, Reader

Pairing: Jaehyun/Reader

Genre: Smut // M

Word Count: 5.1K

Warnings: Sexual Conent (duh), Breathplay??, It’s Really Just Lockeroom Smut OKAY

“I’m going to make you eat fucking dirt, Jaehyun,” you growled, setting your feet apart and bending slightly, readying yourself for the set you were almost certain would be coming your way.

He stood just opposite to you, merely a couple of feet away, but blocked by the hatch-marked, decrepit volleyball net. His smirk was a concoction of tantalizing and infuriating, one dimple caving in his cheek. Everything about it pissed you off.

Raising his eyebrows at you, he cracked his fingers one by one while his smirk spread, his eyes drenched in mirth. Someone’s shoe squealed against the gym floor behind you, pushing you to curl your fingers tighter, your nails pushing into your skin.

“Please, angel, we both know you’re at a disadvantage,” he chuckled, reaching towards a stray thread that hung from the net and twisting it leisurely around his fingers.

You’d daydreamed about breaking them.

“Don’t be so full of yourself,” you scoffed, “I have more determination in my pinky than you do in your whole body.”

His mouth spread into a simper once more, his tongue sweeping out across his lips while his eyes narrowed. Always ready for a fight.

“I’ll have you know that all of me is very determined,” he narrowed his eyes, “and that I have something you don’t: natural talent.”

“Go to hell,” you spat, digging your toes deeper into the worn soles of your sneakers.

“After you.”

You grinned wickedly. “Wouldn’t that imply me being in front of you? As in ‘first place’?”

He shook his head like he was talking down to a child, finally relaxing his hand from the net and running it through his hair. “Please, we both know that’s a bit of a stretch. If you’re going to insult me, make sure it’s worth both of our time.”

“You’re an egotistical bastard, Jaehyun.”

“And you’re an insufferable kiss-up, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes at him, forcing yourself to relax under his endless leering. Your relationship with Jaehyun had always been this way, with casted out insults and mocking smiles concocting a rueful connection. There was no other game to play but this one full of misplaced anger, yet who could blame you?

It had all started kindly enough, a simple bet between the two of you over a higher mark on a history exam; it had been neighborly, even flirtatious. You hadn’t known each other for much longer than a week then, and Jaehyun was clueless that history was not only your favorite subject, but one which you excelled in.

You had beat him with a three-point margin, displaying your success whilst you fanned yourself with the paper. The grin on your face didn’t leave for the rest of the period, not when he gifted you with a deep submersion in his eyes- one that held a promise: Jung Jaehyun did not lose.

He had started challenging you at any opportunity, from anywhere between shot-gunning a beer at an overcrowded party to your current contest, a volleyball game during gym class. Overall, you were ahead in the tally by two points, having won a debate during English and a bet of petty school vandalism (there was a colorfully-imagined note on the principal’s desk), and you were not looking to lose that lead. Whoever won this game would gain another point, but by the distant, determined look in Jaehyun’s eyes, there was more to follow.

The gym teacher blew his whistle, signaling the other team’s serve. The class period was nearing the end, and the points were pushing towards game match of the third round; your side holding a respectable twenty-three and his a leading twenty-four. Your team had won the first game, his the second. Things were not looking in your favor as they held the serve, and you had to worry about the rest of your team working properly- if they fucked you over, there was nothing you could do.

The ball came soaring over the net towards your setter, who easily placed it towards you with folded hands, steeling the backwards spin into a casual loft. You smiled triumphantly, locking eyes with Jaehyun as you leapt towards the moving object, your curled fist slamming into the cream leather with a harsh smack. It shot forward and over the net, expertly aimed towards one of the weaker links on their team, who startled and backed away, watching the ball plummet into the ground with owl-eyes. You cheered with a couple of your teammates, supplying the offered high-fives and comradery before turning to a frustrated Jaehyun, your friendly smiling turning into a heated smirk. His eyes blazed with annoyance, glaring towards the frightened kid before returning his gaze to you, biting his bottom lip in concentration. You forced your eyes to meet his, ignoring his clenched fist and sweat-beaded forehead.

You were even now, scores tied and favorable to you. You were confident, expectant even, that your two-point success would turn into a three. It would give you a margin for mistake you had never had before and the supported ability to mock Jaehyun for all he was worth. The thought made your heart swell with deviant glee.

You watched the serve, content with the angle of the spinning ball, seeing it fly over the net and straight towards the middle man. You watched him set it, leaning forward on the balls of your feet in anticipation as the ball was pushed back over to your side. A girl with long legs and a too-heavy ponytail returned it to Jaehyun’s vicinity, causing a spark of worried nerves to hit your stomach. He smiled widely as he followed to the volleyball’s velocity, pushing off the front of his foot and upwards. Shit.

The ball spiked downwards, three strides to your left and out of reach- in bounds and barrelling quickly  towards a twenty-fifth point. You, in a competitive desperation, dove outwards with your arms outstretched and poised to interrupt Jaehyun’s victory. You had no protective gear on your knees, and the generally dirty gym floors would not allow you to move far, which you realized too late. Your knee caught against the tanned ground, scuffing with pain as your elbows hit, your fingertips just out of reach as the ball bounced off the floor. Your legs had caught the ground and yanked you to a preemptive halt, pushing you away from the rolling volleyball as you groaned in a mix of pain and disappointment. Game.

Rolling onto your back, you pushed up on your hands and into a squat. You slammed your fist into the flooring, earning a pleasing smack and a manumit of anger. Jaehyun laughed at your childish outburst, pulling the net up as he slipped underneath and sauntered towards you.

“Better luck next time, angel,” he snarked, outstretching a hand towards you.

You rolled your eyes, shoving away his offer and pushing yourself up to your feet. The skin of your knee burned and you could feel the faint warmth of blood on the back of your elbow, but you ignored both as you glowered at Jaehyun with crossed arms.

“Are you forgetting something?” you feigned poise, “I’m still winning, Jaehyun, it’s fifty-six to fifty-seven.”

He smirked. “Don’t worry, I’m planning on rectifying that soon.”

“I’d like to see you try,” you retorted.

“I’m sure you will.”

He stared deeply at you, and for a moment you risked faltering, because the deepness you had seen the first time you had beat him had returned, but now there was another emotion slotted between his will and determination. There was amusement, of course, but beneath that you swore you saw a layer of arousal playing on the edge, leaking into his pupils. You looked away as your face burned, tightening the hold on your arms as your neck prickled, your stomach flaming.

“I’ll see you soon, Y/N,” he said, smirk still impressed on his face as he backed away slowly, his hands hidden in the pockets of his pants.

“Yeah- yeah,” you cleared your throat to rid the shakiness, “I’m counting on it, how else will I beat you?”

He laughed as he turned around, giving you a view of his shifting back muscles and strong legs.

What the hell?

You shook yourself out, trying and failing to rid your mind of the newly persistent thoughts that included a sweating Jaehyun in an entirely different situation than the one you had just partaken in. Your skin was overheated and waves of shock fluttered down your spine as you dazedly walked towards the locker room.

You had never felt this way when it came to him. Your mind had unintentionally blocked out his charms and attractiveness the moment he had proposed a competition between the two of you, instead overlaying annoyance into your daily interactions. But now, your core was thrumming with the idea of putting to use your obvious chemistry. All the jabs and teasing from your respective friends must not have been based on fallacy as you had originally thought.

You walked into the steam of the locker room, letting the heavy oak door fall shut behind you as you watched the already changed girls gather their things together. You had been distracted by Jaehyun’s conversation and your mind’s disarray, so you were lagging behind everyone in preparation for the next class. You promptly walked to your locker to fish out your phone from your backpack and check the time, noting with a frown that you were past the point of having the option to rinse off.

You tossed the slender metallic device back into the tin locker, reaching down with crossed arms and pulling off the loose shirt off that you had been designated at the beginning of the year. It was musty with the last hour’s work, and the faded logo of your school was peeling off the red shirt like an old memory. You folded it gently and hid it away on the top shelf of your locker, reaching to the waist of your athletic shorts to remove those next, the line of your sports bra folding under itself as you bent down.

Bang.

You startled, popping upwards and turning around towards the loud noise, but the origin was hidden by a row of gray lockers. Your hands pressed against the lockers under yours, feeling the grooves of the windowed slats dig into the flat underside of your palm.

“Everybody out,” a voice rose across the vaulted room, carrying through the steam that hung against the fogged mirrors.

Jaehyun?

You recognized his voice easily, but you couldn’t recognize the tone. He sounded stressed, desperate, his throat taking control in his lilt as it grounded out the two words. Girls already dressed hurried to gather their things and raced out, too shocked about a boy demanding them to vacate to take the time to question it. Anyone undressed threw their clothes on with a flushed embarrassment before following closely to their fleeing friends. You were too shocked to move, your exposed skin hypersensitive to the open door as cooler air seeped through the room.

“Y/N?” a throaty Jaehyun called out, a slather of anger molding into the whimpered name.

You stiffened to his call, curling your fingers into the grates as you stared wide-eyed towards the corridor that led to the locker room entrance. Footsteps started hitting the tiled floor hesitantly, the squeak of sneaker-soles on wet linoleum growing louder with each step. Soon, Jaehyun appeared around the corner, his hands fisted to his sides when he saw you, his mouth pressed in a hard line. He leaned against the row of lockers he stopped by,, cocking his head to the side as he ran his dark eyes up and down your frame, sending ghosts of careful fingers all over your body as you shivered. He swallowed heavily, closing his eyes at your figure.

“Oh, angel,” he groaned, “You have no idea what you do to me.”

You furrowed your eyebrows at that, slipping your fingers carefully from their perch as you crossed your arms over your torso. You were stumped suddenly, the notion that Jaehyun thought about you somehow unfathomable- yet here he was, brow sheened in sweat, throat working at the sight of your skin.

“Jaehyun, what-?”

“As much as I generally enjoy you running your pretty little mouth, right now isn’t the best time.”

You scoffed at him, standing straighter defensively, still trying to cover your barren skin with your arms. You took a provoked step towards him, your shoes squealing on the wet ground.

“Please,” you rejected, “I’ll run my ‘pretty little mouth’ whenever the hell I deem it a good time.”

Jaehyun licked his lips as he continued to eye you, and you felt yourself shrink slightly under the weight of his gaze. He looked up and locked with your eyes. “That would mean you’d never shut up, Y/N.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“That’s kind of why I came to see you,” he retorted. You froze again, your irked mind once again returning to the knowledge of his eyes and the way he held you in them, like he would do nothing to push you onto a bench and have his way with you. You shuddered.

“That’s going to take an explanation, Jaehyun,” you sneered, trying to hold your composure together as the temperature of the room heated slowly, “because last time I checked, you hated me.”

“Who said I hated you?”

“The smirks and insults typically speak for themselves,” you deadpanned, dropping your hands to your sides mindlessly as you got more and more annoyed. Jaehyun, in contrast to your reflexive movement, took full notice of your now exposed body, only your bra to cover your upper extremities.

“Come on, angel, we both know that’s part of the game,” he said lowly, his hand coming to hold the corner of the lockers he leaned into, trying to find self-control in the metal grip.

“Sure,” you dismissed, because at that moment you were less interested in your relationship and more interested in why Jaehyun had kicked everyone out to see you, “What’s this really about, Jaehyun?”

He smiled, glad you had brought the ball back into his court. “Actually, it’s about our ‘game’. I want to settle the score.”

“You couldn’t have waited to say that when we weren’t in a locker room and you weren’t making me late for Pre-Cal?” you spat out, now mad that he was wasting your time. Any other scenario where Jaehyun had come to you to discuss the next match was either in the moment itself or on the quad where neither of you would be alone. So why had he gone to such lengths now?

“What I have in mind isn’t really for the hallways,” he shrugged, pushing off the lockers and coming closer to you. You took a small step back.

“It’s fairly simple, Y/N,” he moved closer, “whoever caves in first, loses. All you have to do is not give in.”

Your eyes widened as he pushed forward again, his steps slow and calculated, your steps stuttered and small. It didn’t take long for your back to hit the smooth metal of closed lockers, the handle inches from your shoulder. Jaehyun smirked, coming directly into your personal space, his hand resting right of your head- warmth radiated from the strength of his arm as your breath faltered.

“What are you doing?” you choked out, your hands returning to their earlier position, pushed against the lockers below you.

“What does it look like?” he asked, leaning in so that his breath hit your cheek, his lips brushing the skin so lightly you couldn’t be certain if you imagined it or not.

“When you walked into class this year with that cocky smile and tight little skirt, my first thought was about getting you somewhere private- and quickly,” he continued to breathe onto your skin, clogging your throat with libido, “but you proved to be a challenge, and I never was one to step down from a fight, so I played the game, thinking that eventually you would catch a hint.”

His breath moved from your cheek and ear to your jaw, coming out in strained pants as his other hand started playing with the front edge of your shorts. You swallowed heavily, trying to clear your lungs of the longing feeling you felt clawing up inside of them.

“But you never did, angel,” he sucked in a shaky breath, “You never got the fact that the sight of you all worked up and pissed at me- that watching you get riled during an argument or contention- sent me straight to hell in the best way.”

“Jae”- you struggled to say his name, the heat of his articulation on your neck and collarbones sending you into a spiral of mental duress, his hair brushing your cheek as he rested his head against the locker.

He ignored your wistful plea, continuing with his explanation. “I love this game, Y/N, it makes me want you in the worst of ways when your eyes light up to the challenge. It’s almost enough to make me cave- almost. But if there’s one thing I like more than your mouth, angel, it’s victory.”

You heaved in the stagnant air, feeling it shake down your throat as heat stabbed into your lower stomach pleasantly. Your control was melting away like ice thrown to curb during the summer, bubbling in steam as your eyes shut to his hand brushing on your legs, his pale fingertips scratching your flesh- the pressure feather-light. His hand that pressed into the locker beside you had moved enough so that he could run his thumb delicately on the shell of your ear. Everything was so light, so present, but fuck- it wasn’t enough.

“Jaehyun,” you whispered, “god- just, please.”

You could feel his smirk in the air, his breath still fluttering across your bare shoulders teasingly, tormenting you. “What’s that, angel?”

You groaned, your frustrations peaking with the fever in your core.

“If you don’t stop teasing me like this,” you promised, “you aren’t going to be walking for the next week, love.”

“Oh- thank god,” he moaned, taking his cue and finally giving you what you had been building to for the last torturous minutes.

His lips slipped up your neck heavily, his teeth grazing over your jaw as you sucked a short breath in, fighting against the groan that mauled your throat. His lips, in all their burning heat, finally collided with yours in a fervent clash of teeth and tongue. His mouth forced yours into the complication, biting against your lip as his tongue chased after the wound.

Even the way you kissed was a competition, a foresighted dominant fueled battle of moaned swears and cyphered teeth, your lips swelling under the pressure of his own as you exchanged passion. There wasn’t anything sweet about it, dripping sex appeal and frustration wasn’t a typical romance, and you couldn’t be happier with it. As you sucked lightly on the tip of his tongue his hand that had been by your ear rushed to the nape of your neck, tangling into your hair and tugging gently. You groaned at the feeling, bringing your hands to latch behind him and onto the perch of his broad shoulders. He pulled your leg tighter around him, his palm spanning around the top half of your thigh, the pads of his fingers digging deliciously into your musculature.

Your teeth clacked briefly, but instead of being dissuaded by the discomfort of pain, it edged you on to dig your nails into the thinness of his shirt, pushing into the joints of his shoulders. He moaned into your mouth, pulling back after with baited breath and dilated pupils. His forehead rested against yours, your perspiration mixing as his breathing hit your sore lips. Impatient, you slipped away and latched your lips onto his jaw, biting lightly on the bone before sucking, letting your lips and tongue drag as you moved down his neck.

He sucked air through his teeth, his hands rushing to grasp the skin of your waist, starting circular ministrations below your ribs to calm himself. His hands were cold on your bare stomach, so big on the sides of your body that it sent a thrill towards your toes, flustering your rapid heartbeat even more.

“You’re, wow,” he said, panting raggedly as you swirl your tongue over his adam’s apple, “Jesus- Y/N, your so- so gorgeous. Oh my god, you’ve been driving me insane for months and I’ve been missing out on this? God, yeah…”

He trailed off incoherently as you traced your bite marks back to his ear lobe, catching the skin between your teeth and tugging, your lips coming to kiss behind his ear and soothe his unhinged concentration. Not one to give up control for long, he pulled your head back to his to reattach your lips together, beginning the duel once more as you danced for advantage.

His hands slipped behind your back smoothly, trailing goosebumps in their wake as they came to the back of your bra, slipping under the elastic band with just the tips of his fingers. He was driving you crazy. Breaking away quickly you pulled the offensive article off, throwing it to the slick floor happily before turning your eyes back to Jaehyun. He stared at you in awe, his thumbs returning to your front to brush the undersides of your breasts. With a silent question in his eyes he glanced up to you, which you nodded your answer, letting his head drop as he slipped one of your buds into his mouth, running his tongue around and over it in slow rotations. You groaned loudly, fueling his movements to a quicker pace as his other hand gripped your hip tightly, your own hands wrapping in his hair as you pulled his head to your chest.

You could feel him smirk against you. You tugged the ends of his hair at that, letting him know your annoyance but he only grazed his teeth over you in response, causing your breath to catch and white lighting to pulse through your pelvis.

“Jae,” you moaned, “Jae I n-need more.”

He detached with a lewd pop, his mouth wet with saliva as he looked up to you, his caramel eyes melted into desire. You felt your stomach drop as heat flooded your already soaked undergarment.

“More of what?” he asked, his voice coarse like a jagged rock, but his tone feigning innocence.

You rolled your eyes at his leering smile, tugging his hair again but with more painful intentions in mind this time. To your pleasure, he winced, his hands clasping your hip bones tighter as he glowered at you. You shrugged with a fake smile, deciding mentally to cut to the chase, because the rolling need inside of you was pushing against your breaking point with both hands again and again.

“Jae,” you growled, “just fuck me.”

He groaned again, taking your orders with fermented energy as he kissed you quickly before pulling his shirt off and throwing it in the same direction your bra had gone. You had no time to appreciate his physique as he pushed you back into the lockers, his hands pulling your hips forward as he yanked your shorts off and to your ankles, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of your underwear as you kicked the fabric away. You stared at his calculating eyes, conveying as much heat through your electrified gazes as you could, telling him that you wanted this. That you needed him. Right then.

He pulled your wet underwear away, sliding the scrap of cloth down your legs slowly as he moved with his hands, crouching away from your grasp that had been in his hair. He was now leant on his haunches, helping you step out of the fabric with care, one of his hands wrapping around your ankle as the other stayed braced on the back of your thigh. His hands were still so cold. He looked up at you again, through the thick band of his eyelashes, double checking that you were on the same page. You wanted to roll your eyes.

He pressed onwards at your glare, running his hand up the inside of your calf and pressing into the back of your knee gently, causing you to buckle slightly towards him, off balance. He smiled at you again before leaning and kissing the inside of your thighs as he pushed open your legs, feeling the quiver of your breath as you shivered in anticipation. His tongue traced upwards, towards your craving heat, before rushing to latch onto you with a sloppy clash, his tongue running up and down the length of your slit to the sound of your muffled whining.

His nose hit your clit, the sensitive bud calling to your toes and fingers in delight, sending ringing messages to your nerve endings as you cried in pleasure. He lapped at you, forcing waves of cold sweat over your body, your flustered core thumping in preparation. He pulled away seconds from your needed release, smiling at your weak protest as he raised to his full height again, licking you from his lips. His hands slotted in the juncture of your pelvis and legs, forcing them to widen as he kissed you violently again, sharing your flavor between your sliding tongues. You pulled on his waistband in a begging gesture, and he quickly caught on to your want, taking down his remaining clothing quickly and leaving you both bare and sweating lust, his member hardening on your stomach as he pressed his lips against yours in incessant pecks, rolling a condom over himself. You let out a strangled moan as his fingers slipped back over you, rolling your clit between his forefinger and thumb.

He snapped his hands back to your wrists, pulling your arms up to above your heads, crossing your wrists with one hand and holding them there, his eyes swimming in sex as he looked meaningfully at you. You whimpered sweetly when his other hand dragged back down your body, pausing on your neck to pull another kiss from you.

He guided his cock to you, rubbing the head up and down your slick slit before placing it at your entrance and pushing in. Your moans entangled together as you mesh, his hips meeting yours as he cried out lowly, grinding against you in an upward motion.

“Fuck, Y/N, you’re so tight,” he panted onto your neck, placing distant kisses onto your throat as his hand gripped your wrist and pressed them into the locker, forcing you to arch your back into his torso.

He rolled up into you, yours walls pulling and pulsating around him, causing sweet ecstasy to cloud your minds.

“Yes, Jae- fuck, right there.”

He took your praise with stride, quickening his pace as you ground your hips in rhythm with his gyrations, both of you winding taught to your release. He snapped his hips again, hitting a spot inside of you that made you cry out into the empty locker room, your rewarding pants music that drove him on. Your legs started to quake in foresight, your hands flexing under Jaehyun’s grasp from their place against the metal.

“Jae,” you moaned, “I’m almost- fuck, I’m so close.”

You felt him nod against your shoulder, where his head had dropped to meet your neck. He reached between you and started rubbing frantically on your sensitive spots, your clit twitching under his experienced fingers. “Me too, angel, me too. Shit, just let go sweetheart, come on- let go Y/N. Come for me.”

With his coaxing you found your high, feeling yourself spasm around his throbbing dick, writhing on the lockers as your legs threatened to drop from beneath you, but Jaehyun’s steady grasp kept you upright even as he started to falter with you. You both rode out your orgasms together, your breaths mingling exhaustion with content as you regained your strength. He pulled out from you, letting your arms drop to your sides as he discarded of the condom.

You leaned your head backwards as you sucked air in, trying to refocus from your clouded lust and back to the real world. Away from the one where Jaehyun worked you down piece by piece until you became putty in his expert hands. He reappeared before you with your undergarments, helping you back into your underwear as you braced your hands on his shoulders, pulling them up your legs with a final kiss to your hip. You continued dressing yourself as he did the same- you returning to your earlier school clothes and him back to his gym attire.

Both of you were now fully clothed and facing each other, inches away from the other’s lips.

“I don’t know what that was for you,” he started, his voice still grinding out in the aftershocks, “but that wasn’t void of emotion for me, and I can only hope you have the same feeling. If not, that’s fine, but if you do- I have no plans after school.”

He smiled shyly, much different from the look he had given you recently when he was on his knees in front of you, but you found it endearing rather than shocking. You reached out a careful hand towards him, as if you were asking permission to poke a bear, matching the soft look of his eyes. He accepted your offer immediately, entwining your fingers together and bringing the side of your hand to his mouth for a kiss.

“I’m willing to explore that option, Jaehyun,” you answered, stepping towards him again as the thumb of your other hand came to brush his jaw.

He grinned. “That’s more relieving to hear than you would’ve thought.”

“Don’t get too relieved,” you said, realizing the time from the fogged clock on the far side of the locker room, “You definitely made me miss Pre-Calculus today.”

He pouted. “I’m pretty sure that was worth it, angel.”

You shrugged mockingly, teasing his expression as you pretended to think it over. “I’m not sure if it was, you might have to remind me later,” you said, pulling out of his hold and grabbing your backpack from your still-open locker.

“Count on it, Y/N,” he promised, “How else am I supposed to win, considering we’re all tied up now.”

You whipped back around to glare at him.

“It’s your move now, angel.”

FIN.

*seasonal delights and cherry picked smiles, an exchange of goods and an exchange of hearts.

Characters: Jaehyun, Sicheng, Reader

Pairing: Jaehyun/Reader

Genre: Romance // Fluff // Summer Love and Bakery!Jaehyun

Word Count: 20.2k

Warnings: Mentions of Underaged Drinking, and Adultery, Mild Language

a/n- the farmer’s market is based on the one that is in my town so it may be drastically different from anything u know, also! i know blood oranges are Not At All a summer fruit (as follows most oranges) but hey they grow in florida and florida is…well florida so just go with it.

The decadent awakening of July was flavorful, brimming with sweet fruit and blossoming flowers, rolled over the tongue like sorbet, melting into the cracks of the pavement like summer rain. It brought wistful promises and smothering heat; bright, supple colors that drenched the hillside’s green in hues of van gogh’s memory. The bustle of activity- the bees and birds as they danced their flagrant songs, the people as they held onto the ripe middle of summer, fists greedy and smiles full. It dripped in your hands, slick with balmy weather and shades of beige and vibrant blue, orange freckles on mother nature’s sleepy contenance. You had always accepted this time of year wholeheartedly, counting down hours until your skin tanned a light chestnut hue, shoulders and collarbones in kind with your cheeks, dusted pink like strawberry sugar.

The scarf that held your hair up and from your neck was dazzlingly white, dancing in the stifling breeze just as the clouds did above, the soft curls of your escaping tangles brushing your face. You grinned unabashedly at any person who passed your set-up, having mellow conversations and friendly greetings with customers and regulars alike. Your hands would flit across your stand and its finished plywood, the once tame grey paint you spent a day swiping across the structure now chipped from use. Yet it held the same fruits and vegetables as always, each produce gasping life and attention without a needed backdrop of pleasantry, drawing the tasteful eyes of onlookers as they licked at their lips. You yourself were considering plucking a few oranges for your tongue and then after that some tomatoes and fresh garden herbs for dinner that night. Salivating, you drew yourself away from temptation, knowing the scalding look your Mother would give you if she saw- more scorching than any heat wave.

Moving closer to your Mother had been one of the easiest decisions you had made when you graduated high school a couple years ago, daydreaming of the summers you would spend with her, adorned with paint-splattered knees and strawberry-stained fingertips. You had always wanted to go to the university near this town, having stuck your nose to the car window as a small child to get a better look at the elegant masonry and bustling students as you drove past, breath fogging the window until you were scolded. Through applications and numerous back-up colleges, through shuffling the mail with your fingers crossed, and finally through seeing the emblem of your desire copied clear on the corner of a thick envelope, nimble fingers tearing, eyes re-reading, and a bit of ear-sensitive phone calling, you had made it.

Keep reading

*it’s two in the morning, you don’t know how to say no to a bet, you forgot your gloves outside, and there is something moving behind you.

Characters: Haechan, Reader, Mark

Pairing: Haechan/Reader

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 4K

Somedays you needed to sit yourself down in front of a mirror and have a serious, personal conversation about your impulse control. Sometimes it worked out fine for you, ending with an ultimate face off with your fear of heights on a cliff edge (you didn’t even flinch on Ferris Wheels anymore) and other times it landed you in situations much like the one you were in now. The kind where you were by yourself in the middle of the night, in somewhere clearly housing a poltergeist, while your idiot friends laughed safely and decidedly not located inside an abandoned mall.

Really, you blame Mark for his stupid comments and his stupid way of knowing how to push your buttons. He always knew how to make you do something, and he was especially motivated when it would almost guarantee you being pissed or scared pissing. This was one of those times.

Keep reading

*seasonal delights and cherry picked smiles, an exchange of goods and an exchange of hearts.

Characters: Jaehyun, Sicheng, Reader

Pairing: Jeahyun/Reader

Genre: Romance // Fluff // Summer Love and Bakery!Jaehyun

Word Count: 20.2k

Warnings: Mentions of Underaged Drinking, and Adultery, Mild Language

a/n- the farmer’s market is based on the one that is in my town so it may be drastically different from anything u know, also! i know blood oranges are Not At All a summer fruit (as follows most oranges) but hey they grow in florida and florida is…well florida so just go with it.

The decadent awakening of July was flavorful, brimming with sweet fruit and blossoming flowers, rolled over the tongue like sorbet, melting into the cracks of the pavement like summer rain. It brought wistful promises and smothering heat; bright, supple colors that drenched the hillside’s green in hues of van gogh’s memory. The bustle of activity- the bees and birds as they danced their flagrant songs, the people as they held onto the ripe middle of summer, fists greedy and smiles full. It dripped in your hands, slick with balmy weather and shades of beige and vibrant blue, orange freckles on mother nature’s sleepy contenance. You had always accepted this time of year wholeheartedly, counting down hours until your skin tanned a light chestnut hue, shoulders and collarbones in kind with your cheeks, dusted pink like strawberry sugar.

The scarf that held your hair up and from your neck was dazzlingly white, dancing in the stifling breeze just as the clouds did above, the soft curls of your escaping tangles brushing your face. You grinned unabashedly at any person who passed your set-up, having mellow conversations and friendly greetings with customers and regulars alike. Your hands would flit across your stand and its finished plywood, the once tame grey paint you spent a day swiping across the structure now chipped from use. Yet it held the same fruits and vegetables as always, each produce gasping life and attention without a needed backdrop of pleasantry, drawing the tasteful eyes of onlookers as they licked at their lips. You yourself were considering plucking a few oranges for your tongue and then after that some tomatoes and fresh garden herbs for dinner that night. Salivating, you drew yourself away from temptation, knowing the scalding look your Mother would give you if she saw- more scorching than any heat wave.

Moving closer to your Mother had been one of the easiest decisions you had made when you graduated high school a couple years ago, daydreaming of the summers you would spend with her, adorned with paint-splattered knees and strawberry-stained fingertips. You had always wanted to go to the university near this town, having stuck your nose to the car window as a small child to get a better look at the elegant masonry and bustling students as you drove past, breath fogging the window until you were scolded. Through applications and numerous back-up colleges, through shuffling the mail with your fingers crossed, and finally through seeing the emblem of your desire copied clear on the corner of a thick envelope, nimble fingers tearing, eyes re-reading, and a bit of ear-sensitive phone calling, you had made it.

Keep reading