@aecu - Tumblr Blog

Sep 14, 2022

pairing: lee donghyuck x fem!bodied reader

content: smut, fluff, (slight?) angst, f2l, unprotected sex (please be safe please this is fiction), oral (f & m receiving) degradation, praise, dance isn’t super prominent oops, teasing, alcohol consumption, semi-public, sappy hyuck, possessive hyuck, 9k words, i think that’s it but lmk if i missed any!

summary: donghyuck has really, really, really fucked up this time. when you asked him if he wanted to hook up and take the edge off of preparing for the upcoming recital, he jumped at the offer. but he’s slowly falling in love with you, you’re in his dance department so if it ends ugly, you’re unavoidable—and he may or may not be getting possessive when he sees other men flirting with you.

a/n: this is like 2 months after the masterpost and the first in the series :’) school has been busy but i hope you enjoy! thank you to @hwangcore for proofreading <3 love u

DONGHYUCK HAD A TENDENCY TO CATCH FEELINGS. EASILY.

He knew this, which is why he surprised himself when he agreed to your proposition of being friends with benefits one night when you two stayed late in the dance studio, working on your solo routines for the dance department’s huge annual performance.

It was a looming pressure, an incredibly heavy weight on his shoulders, and unbelievably stressful when you’re one of the main acts.

Maybe it was how you said it. Or maybe it’s because it was you. He was a sucker for pretty people, and you were breathtaking.

“Hey, Hyuck,” you’d said, and he’d hummed from where he was laying on the floor, staring at the ceiling and catching his breath. He’d just run through his whole routine for the third or fourth time that day, and his thighs were screaming in agony. “How you feelin’?”

“Tired,” he grumbled, rolling onto his side to look at you. “You?”

“Stressed. Like I need to take the edge off.” You whine, flopping next to him, and he sighs.

“God, tell me about it. I’m going to get so wasted this weekend,” he mumbles, rubbing his temples. “Like a hangover that lasts for two days. That kind of hammered.”

“I wish I could but I have exams coming up. I was thinking of another way to let off steam,” you’d admitted shyly, and he narrowed his eyes, looking up at you curiously. You weren’t one to get shy easily, always the center of attention and the best (ballet) dancer the department had—other than him, of course.

“Like what?”

“Hooking up with someone and getting a fun reason to be as sore as I am.” You huffed, and he nearly choked on his spit.

“Then go for it. More power to you. I might do the same at some point, haven’t gotten laid in way too fuckin’ long,” he waved his hand, and let his eyes slide shut.

You’re silent for a few moments, and then there’s a warm hand toying with the skin where his shirt has ridden up.

“I had someone specific in mind,” your voice is sweet and low, and his eyes snap open as your nails scrape over his hip bone.

“Yeah?” He asks, and he’s honestly glad he wears his dance belt to practice religiously because the speed in which he was starting to get hard was embarrassing.

“Yeah,” you smile, fingers creeping up his toned stomach with your normal confidence, whatever (pretense of) shyness you’d had vanished. “You.”

“God,” he groaned. “I don’t know. We have to do partner dances and shit. We’re friends.”

You pouted at him, letting your nails bite his skin, just a little. “Are you sure you don’t wanna?”

He wasn’t.

He wasn’t blind, you were hot, and leotards left just enough to the imagination that he’d thought of what you might look like naked, but he always pushed away the thought as soon as it entered his mind out of respect for you.

But here you were, offering yourself to him, with big, round, and pleading eyes, and parted lips that curl into a pleased smile as his muscles tense under your cold hand.

He wonders briefly if he fell asleep and he’s just dreaming this, but the ghosting of your breath on his skin, faint and barely present, and the hum of the air conditioning is far more real than anything he could imagine.

“Hyuckie,” you whine, drawing out the ending. “Please?”

He’s going to regret this.

“Fuck, yeah, sure. Sure. Absolutely. I’m down.” He agrees, and you smile, pleased, pulling his shirt back down.

“How stressed are you?” You ask teasingly, and he rolls his eyes.

“I should be asking you that, troublemaker,” he sits up. “You’re the one propositioning me. Want me that bad?”

You don’t meet his gaze now, and he chuckles, raising a brow.

“Don’t get shy on me now, pretty,” Hyuck is grinning now, because he’s flipped the dynamic in only a few seconds. “Use your words.”

With a huff, you stand. “Come with me.”

He hums, planning on winding you up. “Why should I?”

“So you can find out just how bad I want you.”

He stands, takes a second to adjust his dance belt and sweatpants, and grabs your hand to let you drag him along.

There’s a nervous energy radiating off of you, and when you get to your dorm you stand there for a few seconds, blinking at him and his intent gaze.

“Do you, um, do you want a drink?” You ask, and he smiles sweetly, rubbing his thumb over your hand before he pulls out a beer and an apple soju from your minifridge. He hands you the beer.

“Get comfy,” he says, dropping his voice to see the way your eyes widen. He smiles and sips his soju, watching you relax as the beer gets to you.

When both of you have finished your drinks, his head is buzzing a little with ideas of what he can do to you, and you’re obviously more comfortable, relaxed on your mattress and smiling at him, waiting for him to act on the mounting tension in the room.

He walks towards you slowly, admiring the curve of your throat and the way you swallow, nervous when he doesn’t speak.

“How stressed are you?” He asks, echoing your earlier words, fingers slowly sliding under the waistband of your shorts, fingers hooking around the elastic and tugging, pulling them down your legs.

You squirm as his hot breaths hit your skin, and he knows this is an absolutely terrible idea, because he loves your presence and personality, and you’re sexy as hell, and he has a feeling this will end with him in love with you, but your eyes are blown and desperate and your hips are already wiggling with your excitement, so he pushes the thought aside.

“Answer me.” He orders, voice colder. “You know how much I like obedience, don’t you?” You did, and he knew it.

Whenever you did partner dances, he took the lead and expected you to listen, to not question him. You still did, delighting in getting under his skin and being a menace the same way he enjoys being irritating to the people he cares about, but you knew to listen when it came to important things.

And, well, Donghyuck considers sex very important. And he knows you do too, from the way you rarely hook up with people and the way it was never just a one night stand. Though you definitely don’t consider yourself above casual sex, as made clear by you propositioning him, you picked him for a reason.

You wanted to fuck him more than once.

He knows you trust him, and that makes his head a little fuzzy with desire, and he knows you find him sexy, and he will ride the high of you wanting him as long as you’ll allow it.

“Very stressed,” you breathe out, voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah? Poor baby,” he coos mockingly, pinching your thigh to watch how you react to his touch. You whine, lip catching in your teeth and eyes fluttering shut.

Donghyuck’s pleased with your reaction. You were sensitive. And into a little pain mixed with your pleasure. Exactly how he liked his partners.

“I should help you relax, shouldn’t I?”

You don’t respond right away, and he can practically see the gears turning your head as you try to figure him out. “I, oh—” your breath hitches as one finger rubs your clit over your panties.

“Keep talking.”

“I, um, I think you should do whatever you want, Hyuckie,” you answer, licking your lips.

“Mm, so good for me,” he purrs, pleased with the way you answered him. “I think I might just keep you around. Maybe even have you as a fucktoy,” he pouts at you, like he might be talking too fast for you to follow, which might be true with how messy you look already, clearly a little tipsy and needy, having gone far too long without being touched by anyone other than yourself. “Just a needy thing I can slip into any time I need to take the edge off, right?”

He’s mocking you, but your eyes are dark and far away, and you nod eagerly.

“Want you. Please.” You’re doing your best to hold your hips still as his finger continues against your clit, but you’re still shuffling from side to side to get more friction.

Hyuck removes his sweatpants and dance belt, and holds eye contact with you as he pulls your panties down your legs.

With a whine, you tug at the hem of his shirt until he pulls it off. He leaves yours on, but unclasps your bra, knowing the wire is probably digging into your skin uncomfortably.

You smile at him when he does that, but any teasing sentence about him being soft, or sweeter than you thought, you might try to manage dissolves into a moan as he kisses your pussy.

Hyuck knows he’s good at giving head. He’s been told many times, but something about the way he eats you out is different than normal, and he wonders if it’s because he knows you’ll fuck again and he wants to be the best sex you’ve ever had, or if it’s because you’re close friends and have danced together. You know one another’s bodies near perfectly, and this arrangement will make it so you know every inch of one another, know it perfectly.

His hand grips your hip tighter, and he sucks your clit into his mouth, gently rubbing his tongue over it, and you whine loudly, heels digging into his shoulders. You move one of your hands to cover your mouth, and he makes a dissatisfied hum against you.

You muffle your moan at the vibration and he pulls back, licking your wetness off his lips. “I want to hear you,”

“‘S embarrassing,” you protest.

He narrows his eyes. “Do you want to cum?” You nod vigorously. “Then do as I say or you’re just going to watch me get myself off, and none of your toys are going to feel as good as I do.”

You swallow. “Who made you the one in charge?”

Hyuck sits back on his feet. “You, when you asked to hook up,” he palms his cock lazily, preening under your heavy gaze as you stare at the movement. “Now, do what I tell you to do, or you’re just going to watch me get off, and you’re going to be stuck with a vibrator and feel just as empty as when we started out.”

Whining at his words, you nod, and he moves his hands to grip your hips, sucking hard on your clit. The suction makes your hips buck, and while you’re distracted he slides two fingers in.

You whimper from the stretch, and he chuckles, pulling back to speak as his fingers continue to stretch you. “Too much?”

“No, feels good, so good,” you murmur in reply, and he hums.

“Good. You’re going to need to take at least three before you can even attempt to take my cock,”

“I can take it,” you protest, and he scoffs.

“Sure you can,” he rolls his eyes. “You’re tight and clenching around just my fingers. Gonna need to make you cum a few times before your body can take me. You wanted to be sore, not in pain,”

You pout. “But… I can take it. Want it,”

Hyuck hums, slipping in a third finger and delighting in the lewd sounds of your wetness and your gasping and shaky moans as his thumb rolls your clit. “I’ll make sure you can, baby. Just not yet. Now behave.”

You glower at him. “I am.”

“I don’t like when my fucktoys talk back,” Hyuck’s voice is sharp again. “I like when they tell me how good it feels and beg for more, but they shouldn’t question me when I can leave them high and dry.”

You clench around his fingers at the words, and he smirks.

“Don’t tell me you like the idea of you having no control and giving it all to me?”

“What am I meant to want?” You bite back, voice weak and strained as your hips buck and his fingers brush against you just right. “If I like you mean, you mock me, but if I want to have power you’re gonna leave me wanting. It’s not fair,”

“Hm,” Hyuck pouts at you. “I never claimed to be fair though.”

And then he lowers his lips back to your clit, and you cry out at the sensation as he lights your nerves on fire.

You’re listening to him, moaning without a care for your noise level, and your thighs are trying to clamp around him as you squirm from the stimulation, but he delights in the pressure and the throbbing of your heartbeat he can feel under his lips.

Your wetness rolls down his hand and wrist, and he hums softly into you, focused on scissoring you open. You clench at the intrusion, squirming as he tongues your clit and curls his fingers just right, committing to memory the spongy flesh his fingers brush.

“Hyuck!” You gasp, voice shaky as you cum on his hand, and he pulls back, his fingers continuing to stretch you through the aftershocks.

“Good, baby,” he purrs, holding your hips still as you try to pull away. “You wanna try my cock now? Or do you want to keep dripping on my hands and sheets like a slut?”

“‘M not a slut,” you protest, a fire in your eyes as you sit up. “Want your cock.”

He grins. “Then come sit. Gonna be so deep in you, I understand if it takes you a bit to take all of me.”

You glower at him, but your gaze drops to his hard cock, red at the tip and dribbling precum, and he watches you lick your lips, smiling smugly as he realizes his effect on you.

“Want to suck me off?” He asks, purposefully spreading the arousal that still coats his fingers over his cock. “Show me how good your mouth is when it’s not talking back.”

You nod, kissing his chest and stomach, trailing your kisses down, down, down, and he stares at you curiously as you lick the tip.

You seem pleased with the taste, or at least, indifferent to it, as you lick a stripe up the underside of his shaft and get him slick with spit. He breathes out a shaky breath and curls his hands into loose fists, but he lets you take your time, delighting in the need in your eyes and the warmth of your mouth as you slowly take him in.

With a hum around him that has his muscles twitching, you take him as far as you can into your mouth, and you stroke the bit you can’t fit, other hand rolling his balls. Hyuck hisses and bucks his hips up slightly, delighting in the way your throat tightens around him as you gag.

Glaring up at him, you relax your throat and breathe through your nose, and he pats your head. “Good job,” he coos condescendingly. “I knew you’d be a good cocksucker.”

You hum at the praise, hollowing your cheeks around him, and he presses you further with a hand on the back of your head, rolling his hips in small thrusts. Your hand has stopped toying with his balls, and he looks down to see you fingering yourself desperately, humping your hand for some pleasure.

“Tsk,” he clicks his tongue. “And you say you aren’t a slut. Are you that needy for me?”

You bob your head on his cock, and he rolls his eyes, tugging you off, and he swears the sight of you, lips puffy, drool on your chin and a strand of spit connecting your lips to his cock, eyes glazed with desire, is going to be branded into his memory.

“Answer me.”

“Not a slut.” You deny, but you’re moaning as your hips stutter over your fingers. He knows they don’t feel as good as his, but he allows you to desperately try to get off, slipping a hand under your shirt to roughly knead your tits.

“Then I guess I shouldn’t fuck you like one, hm? Sluts and fucktoys get fucked rough and good until they can’t take more. Good and innocent partners get treated like fine china… at least the first time. They’ll become needy for me soon enough.”

You frown, obviously wanting to be fucked roughly. “What about good ones who just need stress relief?”

Hyuck waves his hand. “I don’t bother with them. Too high-strung. Now, tell me. Are you a slut?”

“For you, yeah,” you agree breathlessly, trying to appease him, whimpering as you cum on your fingers. “But only, fuck, while we’re hooking up. I’m not that needy.”

He tweaks your nipples, pleased. “Good. Now, come sit on my cock. You got it nice and ready, I suppose you deserve it.”

Eyes eager, you kiss his shoulders and guide his tip into your waiting pussy, dripping on him as you slowly sink down, hissing and tensing every inch or so. You’re warm around him, pulsing and desperate and so hot. He wants nothing more than to thrust up, force you to take it all as he bottoms out, but that can wait. He needs you utterly desperate before you get what you want.

Whimpering, you roll your hips and finally take all of him. “You’re so big,” you moan brokenly as he twitches inside you and you bounce a little on him. “Feels so good.”

“Your toys couldn’t compare, right?” He asks smugly, leaning back on his arms. You nod dumbly as you make a rhythm, a little sloppy, to your bounces, and he hisses, moaning your name softly as you clench and flutter around him. “God, you’re so fucking sexy.”

You whine at the praise, bouncing more eagerly, and your thighs are probably burning, nails digging into his shoulders to balance yourself as you take him. You bring one hand to your clit, rubbing and moaning as his tip brushes against you just right.

Leaning your head on his shoulder, you slow, murmuring curses and pleads for him to please move.

“Want me to fuck you? Poor baby all tired?”

You nod, and Hyuck grins. Now, he could have his way with you.

He braces himself to get leverage, and thrusts up into you, hard and deep. The way you cry out and your head falls back has him smirking, biting his lip at the sight of you bouncing to meet his thrusts as he sets a punishing rhythm.

With a huff, he yanks your shirt off, and he presses hot and sloppy kisses to your tits, mouthing at your nipples and scraping gently with his teeth to hear the way you moan his name like a prayer.

“Pretty thing,” he coos, blowing cold air over your sensitive skin. “Gonna cum on my cock?” He can feel you tensing, feel your walls fluttering around him, can see the glassy telltale signs of tears in your eyes.

“Yes, Hyuckie, yes,” you moan out, clenching around him as you fall apart, muscles twitching and body shuddering as he only speeds up. “Ah, fuck, fuck, fuck—it’s too much, can’t,”

“Can,” he says, voice deep and rough. “Will. Want me to cum in you? So you have a physical reminder you’re my slut.”

You whine, nodding desperately, and he knows you’re far too gone to realize the consequences, but he knows you’re on birth control—you’ve bitched about the side effects many times—and he’ll buy you Plan B if you want.

“Only for you,” you agree.

You don’t mean it. You’re not his in any way, except carnally, right now, but he’ll take it, his possessive side rearing up as he rubs your puffy clit and you cum with him, milking him for everything he’s worth as he throbs inside you, cock twitching as he fills you to the brim.

“So good for me,” he murmurs as he pulls out, watching how his cum drips out with a proud smile. “Messy.”

You whine softly, eyes hazy and skin slick with sweat. “Your fault.”

“It’s always my fault,” he complains playfully. “It’s my fault when you mess up during dance practice too.”

“It is,” you agree, voice thick and sleepy as you blink up at him. “I don’t think I can walk.”

“So now I have to clean you too,” he huffs. He was going to anyways. “At least I made sure you were sore. It’s what you wanted, right?”

“Shut up.” You mumble. “Meanie. I’m not a slut, by the way.”

“I know,” he laughs, rummaging through your closet to find a rag. “You will be when I’m fucking you. I just get a little mean when I fuck pretty people.”

You laugh. “At least you compliment me. And a little? I would hate to see what you really mean is like.”

Donghyuck smiles. “Only assholes get to hear me be really mean,” he walks into the bathroom and soaks the rag with warm water and then walks back to you, lounging on your bed. “And yeah, of course, I only hook up with sexy people. You have to know you’re hot.”

“I do. I just appreciate hearing it.”

“Not gonna even compliment me back,” Donghyuck pouts as he wipes you clean. “So rude.”

“You have a big enough head already.” you chuckle. “But fine. You’re hot, Donghyuck.”

“I know.” He beams at you. “Do you wanna go get boba?”

“If my legs still work.”

—————————

DONGHYUCK WAS GRATEFUL YOU WEREN’T LIKE OTHER FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS OR HOOKUPS HE’D HAD. You treated him normally outside the bedroom, like you all had never even fucked, and weren’t clingy or distant or anything. You were just yourself, the way you always had been.

Like right now, teasing him for messing up during practice, and saying you were the best dancer in the department.

“Come on, Hyuck,” you pout at him. “You’re getting sloppy. I thought you were the king of jumps.”

Donghyuck glowers at you. “I stumbled! Sue me,” he knows he’s being huffy, and yes, he can take teasing—and he dishes it out too—but he’s proud of his dancing and his singing, though he doesn’t share his singing, and when people tease him for it, he gets more defensive than normal.

You chuckle. “We’re too poor for that,”

He nods. “Yeah. We’re college students, of course we’re broke. But at least we get money from dance performances sometimes. It’s so hard to make time for a job,”

You sigh. “Yeah. I want to get a job but I’m so tired all the time.”

Hyuck smiles. “Tell me about it. Wanna go get coffee?”

With a hum, you cling to his arm. “Let’s go. You’re paying, by the way.”

“What? Why?” He pouts at you, throwing his leather jacket over his shoulder. He wears it almost constantly, and it’s become part of his brand on campus—the ballet dancer that definitely looks nothing like a ballet dancer. He bought it in high school and cherishes all the creases its gained over the years.

“Because you love me.” You smile at him, and he has to fight the urge to smile back.

Donghyuck narrows his eyes at you. “You only like me when I have a credit card.”

You shrug. “Debit and cash too.”

He playfully hits your arm. “Gold digger.” He huffs, and you giggle sweetly, and his frustration melts away. You paid half the time anyways, and he knew it was his turn. He just wanted to try to wiggle out of it, like he always does.

“Oh!” You suddenly perk up. “I remember there’s this new puppy cafe that just opened nearby. Can we please go there?”

Hyuck sighs. “Give me the address.”

You beam at him, texting it to him. “It’s within walking distance. C’mon!”

He lets you drag him along, going on about your day and how annoying your group mates were for a project you were assigned recently, and how they didn’t even want to give you their numbers—which you exclaim was rude, because you weren’t even going to text them, because they didn’t seem like people you wanted to be friends with, you just wanted to ensure they did their part.

“Maybe they didn’t want to give it because they were planning on not doing their work.”

“Ugh,” you pout. “Why can’t you be in all of my classes? I’d always partner with you. Funny, one of my best friends, actually do your work…”

Hyuck grins. “Yeah, I’m awesome. Not everyone can be me though. Having the entire world be full of sexy and funny people is just impossible.”

You groan. “You are so stupid.”

“You love me.” When you’re silent, he frowns at you. “Right?”

“Are you seriously asking me that?” You ask, rubbing your arms from the chill of early spring with a biting breeze. “Of course I do. I wouldn’t put up with you if I didn’t love you.”

“Putting up with me is a pleasure,” Hyuck huffs, pulling his leather jacket over your shoulders. “Give it back to me when we’re in the cafe. You’re shaking like a leaf, so don’t try to tell me you don’t need it.”

You frown at him. “Annoying ass. Telling me what I need and shit.”

“You love it.” He laughs, and you sigh, nodding.

“Yes, we know I’m mentally ill. That’s the only explanation for me liking you.”

Donghyuck makes an offended sound in the back of his throat, but doesn’t argue it further, falling into a comfortable silence as the two of you walk the last two blocks to the cafe.

The cafe isn’t empty, but there’s only a few customers—which made sense, it was around two p.m. on a weekday, so people were at work or had class, and the positioning of the cafe was clearly purposefully done to attract college students (which worked, he noted, hell, you and Hyuck walked there from campus).

Dogs greet you, tails wagging and smiling, alongside a bright bell ringing as the door shuts behind you.

You smile down at them, kneeling to pet them as they crowd around your ankles, rubbing their heads and licking and sniffing.

Donghyuck smiles and walks to the counter, ordering a hot chocolate and an americano, and he claims a seat on a beanbag once the drinks are done. You make your way to him, holding a puppy, which you’re cooing at as you sit on the floor between Hyuck’s knees.

“Here,” he hands you the hot chocolate, which you grab with a little effort, one hand still busy stroking the dog. “Don’t get too attached,” he teases, smiling. “You can’t afford a dog.”

You frown. “Can you afford a dog?”

“I might be able to buy you drinks but pets are expensive,” he reminds gently. “Besides, dance takes up pretty much all my time, alongside class.”

“You make time for me and the guys,” you mumble, pouting at him. “Why couldn’t you make time for a puppy?”

“Because I’d be fully responsible caring for it and would have no help,” Donghyuck sighs. “And I would want help with it, because I would want to give the dog a good life and not neglect it.”

Your frown softens. “Fine… only if you promise that if you ever get a dog, I’m one of the godparents and the first person you pick for dogsitting.”

Hyuck chuckles. “I don’t know… I might pick Jeno over you for that.”

You huff, sipping your hot chocolate and turning your gaze to the dog. “Remind me to cut you out of my life.”

“Uh huh,” Hyuck chuckles. “How am I meant to do that if I’m cut out?”

“Shit…” you mumble. “I didn’t think about that. Nevermind.”

“Dumbass,” he hums fondly, sipping his drink and sighing as he melts into the beanbag. “Can you tell the professor I’m sick?”

“Are you?” You eye him, leaning away from his knees playfully, as if he’s contagious.

“No.” Donghyuck grins. “But I’m comfy and I don’t feel like attending math today. Fuck math. Me and my homies hate math.”

You giggle. “I didn’t realize you and Renjun were no longer homies.”

“He’s a language man,” Hyuck corrects. “None of us are math men. We are all himbos.”

“Aren’t himbos meant to be sexy?” You deadpan, eyeing him. “Clearly, you missed the memo.”

He nearly chokes on his drink. “You’re one to talk,”

Donghyuck doesn’t elaborate why you’re one to talk, but the way you chew on your lip and stare at the dog tells him all he needs to know. You’re thinking of exactly every time you’ve found him sexy, and the one time (so far) the two of you have acted on it.

You glare at him. “Shut up.”

He grins. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Shut up!” You repeat, and his grin widens. “Also, if you’re sick, I’m sick too. Sorry, professor, I’ve caught dumbass disease. I’ve spent too much time with Hyuck.”

Donghyuck grins. “Are you saying you want to skip with me?”

“There’s a lot of things I want to do with you.” You say, and he arches a brow. Your confidence, though never surprising, was always equal parts intriguing and amusing to him.

“Care to show me?” He asks, chugging the rest of his drink and placing it on the counter, stretching as he looks down at you.

With a grin and a flash in your eyes that tells him everything he needs to know about what skipping will entail, you shift the puppy out of your lap, stand, and place your nearly finished drink next to his cup.

“What are you waiting for, my dear himbo? Let’s get out of here.”

—————————

A COUPLE MONTHS INTO HOOKING UP WITH YOU WAS WHEN DONGHYUCK CAME TO TERMS WITH HOW AWFUL OF AN IDEA THIS WAS, AND THE REALITY OF HIS SITUATION.

He was most definitely into you, in more than a platonic sense. He wasn’t sure when it started, but he’d started to get possessive over you—men would flirt with you, both seriously and playfully, and there’d be a dark frustration that would bubble up in him, especially if you’d reciprocate or play along, giggling or saying something just as flirty back.

Even now, sitting around with your friends and his, with you leaning your head on his lap, you were playfully flirting with Jaemin.

Hyuck’s fingers faltered in the way they carded through your hair, and he resumes with a huff when you laugh and tell Jaemin “you’re free whenever he is if he’s paying.”

Jaemin looks smug, and Donghyuck pokes his cheek with his tongue, but he turns to Jeno and Renjun to argue about the movie they’d be watching — he was once again asking for the Kissing Booth, but everyone — even you — chimed in to insult his choice.

He huffs, pouting down at you, and you chuckle, poking his nose gently. “Watch Kissing Booth on your own time, Hyuckie,”

He scowls at you, rolling his eyes. “Part of the fun is how much everyone else hates it. What about To All The Boys?”

Renjun and you both perk up a little, but Jisung and Chenle’s overlapping whines are a resounding no, accompanied with Jeno’s scrunched up nose, and Jaemin’s indifference.

“You all suck.” Donghyuck mumbles, shifting you out of his lap. You whine, and he smiles at you, and his heart flutters a little when he meets your pleading gaze and you hold his hand loosely to keep him in place.

Swallowing, he pulls back. “Making popcorn,” he tells you, and you arch a brow — he’d have to share, he knew it — but nod.

In the kitchen, after starting the popcorn, he taps his fingers against the countertop and stares outside. The leaves sway in the wind, and moonlight filters through the branches. There’s a little bit of fog, and it’s beautiful.

Absorbed in his thoughts — which frustratingly, keep circling back to you — he doesn’t hear you approach until you wrap your arms around his waist.

“Jesus!” Hyuck gasps out, placing a hand over his heart. “Do you want me to die?”

“No,” you huff. “What would I do without my best friend? Especially if the best friend comes with good dick.”

He shushes you, cheeks burning. “Right now?”

He wouldn’t lie and say you didn’t look good. You were in pajamas, a too big tee that showed your pebbled nipples and a hint of cleavage, and silken shorts, hair a mess from how you’ve been laying and his hands, and your eyes were sleepy. It made his heart ache with fondness.

“No.” You pause. “Maybe. Do you have beer?”

“Um, yeah, yeah,” he blinks forcefully to push away thoughts of you under him and how he could definitely fool around with you during the movie and force you to stay quiet. “In the fridge.”

You smile at him sweetly, and he grabs the popcorn with a second left on a timer — he hated the beeping, and you chuckle as he quietly curses at the microwave for being so messy (Jisung had clearly been using it and didn’t clean the stains).

Handing him a beer, you walk back to the couch — taking the popcorn bowl as you do, and he sighs. He was going to have to beg for a bite of his own damn popcorn, but you were so cute he didn’t mind too much.

When everyone’s settled and finally agreed on a movie (Baby Driver), you nudge Hyuck’s hand until he opens your beer for you, and his hand drifts to rest over you, fingers brushing your breasts before settling by your hip.

You don’t even flinch, and he smiles, rubbing circles into your skin, and he’s not even watching the movie by the time they’re thirty minutes in, staring fondly at your face and rapt attention to the cinematography, and he wants nothing more than to kiss you.

But you didn’t kiss. You were friends.

He finishes his beer, and he can feel eyes burning into him — Jisung, tilting his head at the sight of you cuddled into Donghyuck’s side. He shrugs, and Jisung does too before turning back to the TV and stealing Chenle’s blanket, bickering quietly amongst themselves.

Around an hour and thirty minutes in, when the movie is starting to wind down, his fingers trail to your inner thighs and squeeze the skin, and when you tense, he smiles widely. He scrapes his blunt nails over the skin, your muscles tensing under his touch.

You let out a soft little gasp as his hand slides up, and he makes a shushing motion towards you. His fingers slide over your pussy through the silk fabric of your shorts, and he can feel you throbbing, and a bolt of desire runs through him.

Your eyes flutter closed as he continues teasing you under the blanket, and he hums.

“That was a good movie,” he says after a bit, cracking his neck. “I think they’re asleep,” he nods at you. “I’ll clean up. Not tired, probably gonna game for a bit,”

The guys look skeptical, but nod, filtering out, and you’re tense against him — he was circling your clit the whole time he was talking, and when the last door clicks shut, you gasp out and grip his hand.

“What happened to being scandalized at the idea of hooking up here?” You hiss out, turning in his arms to face and straddle him.

Donghyuck licks his lips, pressing a kiss to your skin where your neckline has dipped lower. “Look delectable,” his voice is deep and husky. “Can’t keep me away from this perfect pussy.”

One finger tugs your shorts to the side, and he’s met with no panties and a roll of your hips as he teases your hole.

“Then fuck me. Quickly. I don’t want to get caught.”

Hyuck frowns, and he hopes you don’t catch it. He didn’t care if you were caught, because he liked you and felt no shame. “Tsk, you think I’ll listen? I want you needy.” For me, he adds mentally.

“Yeah, well, I don’t want the guys to see me naked.”

Donghyuck grins and raises a brow. “Then I guess we’ll keep you clothed.” He awkwardly shuffles his boxers and shorts lower, and the way you let out a small moan and rock forward on his hand at the sight of him has him preening.

He guides his tip into you, finger tightly clenching your hip as he bottoms out. “So fucking tight for me, baby,” he coos breathlessly, and you nod, biting your lip.

“Feels so good,” you whimper out, dropping your forehead against his. “Been, fuck, too long,” his fingers diligently work your clit as you bounce on him, and he moves his head to drag his teeth across your neck. You shudder against him and clench, and he sucks a mark onto your collarbone — you’ll get on his ass about it later, but you covered in a reminder of him has his cock twitching. “Thinkin’ about this for so long.”

Donghyuck hums. “How long, pretty?”

“Ah, fuck,” you whine. “Since before we started hooking up. But been so long since we last did I, mm, been so needy. My fingers aren’t enough.”

“My needy slut,” he coos. “Just needed my cock?”

You nod dumbly, eyes glassy as you grind and hump against him, cunt clenching and needy for his cum as he bucks up into you.

“C’mon, baby, we gotta be quick,” he breathes out, and you whine as his fingers toy with your nipples. He sucks a few more hickeys into your skin as you cum, shuddering on top of him as his hips stutter and he fills you up.

He pulls out and grabs a tissue to wipe both of you a little before he places your shorts back — soaked with your wetness.

“Go to my room and grab some clean clothes. I do actually have to clean.” He pouts.

Donghyuck knows he signed up for it, but cuddling you sounded so much better than cleaning ramen cups and snack packages, but he does diligently, and when he’s finally done, you’re in his room, sprawled on his bed with a pout.

“‘M tired.”

“Go to sleep, silly,” Hyuck coos. “I’ll sleep on the couch?”

“That we just fucked on?” You scrunch your nose up and pause. “Please tell me you cleaned it.”

“Of course I did, I don’t want Renjun to kill me if he finds out.” Donghyuck scoffs. “If you want to sleep with me — in a non-sexual way — you could’ve just said.”

“I’m putting a wall of pillows between us.”

When he wakes up, you’re curled into his side. He feels like his heart is going to pound out of his chest at the sight of you with messy hair and a little drool — that should be gross but is cute instead — on your chin.

All the guys are long gone, and a check of his phone has no messages scolding him for fucking on the couch, so he figures he’s in the clear.

Donghyuck kisses your forehead. “Love you,” he whispers, and part of you hopes he hears — and part of him hopes you don’t, because he doesn’t want to ruin your friendship.

He slips out of your arms and goes to make breakfast (it’s really lunch, it’s one thirty, and he’s glad neither of you had class today until dance practice at five thirty because you would kill him if he was the reason you slept through a class), eggs and waffles (with Jaemin’s fancy waffle maker that Donghyuck uses more than Jaemin) and cut fruit.

About fifteen minutes later, when his coffee is done and he’s drinking it, you appear messy haired and bright eyed. “For me?” You ask, pointing at a plate.

“No. For me, obviously. I made two plates just to taunt you.”

You glare at him, rubbing your eyes, and it’s so domestic that he aches.

You eat in silence, and when you ask for a toothbrush, he goes to his bathroom to hunt for an unused one.

While you wait, you run your fingers over the hickeys he’s left. “Marks?”

Donghyuck flushes. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” It doesn’t sound fine.

“We can do the cold spoon thing. And I have makeup — I don’t know if it’s your color but we can at least use my color correctors, like a peach or mint one based on how dark it is.” Hyuck blabbers, and you shrug.

“Sure. You’re doing it though.”

“I don’t mind. Do you have any clothes you left here from the last movie night?”

He’s putting toothpaste on a brush for you and wets it before handing it to you. You shake your head no.

“Well, that shirt is old, you can have it, but it’s kinda threadbare. You’re gonna have to wear your bra from yesterday and probably one of my jackets.”

You scrunch up your nose and nod, and he watches you brush your teeth. He feels a little weird, but you don’t seem to react so he continues to admire you as you try to fix your hair.

The silence feels uncomfortable, and he’s not quite sure why. It’s probably his fault. You only seemed mildly annoyed about the hickeys.

Both of you end up watching TikToks and laughing about them until it’s time to get ready to head to practice, and he hands you his leather jacket while he tugs off his shirt and finds a tighter fitting black tee — sweat wicking, as this practice was meant to last until ten.

You whistle lowly at the sight of his chest, and he grumbles at you as he tugs the shirt on, and when he turns to see you in the leggings you wore before changing into pajamas yesterday, his shirt, and his jacket, he feels like the world has stopped.

You’re always beautiful, but something about the casual intimacy of you in his clothes — in his favorite jacket he’s had since high school — has his heart skipping a beat.

“Ready to go?” He asks as you check your bag. When you nod, he guides you out of the house and locks up behind him, and you point out pretty flowers and architecture on the walk to campus and the dance rooms, and he’s honestly not paying too much attention (you’re using terms you learned in classes about architecture, and all he knows about architecture is that it makes buildings work) but your voice soothes him and you’re lit up with joy, so he encourages you to keep talking.

Practice lasts a while, and he makes a few small mistakes (because he was admiring you, but he just says he tripped instead) but it’s a lot better than a few days prior.

You steal his water bottle and he catches you out of the corner of his eye as he talks to San, but he ignores you until San leaves and you lean your head on his arm.

“Are you ok?” You question softly.

“Yeah, why?” Hyuck murmurs, and you frown, looking down.

“You made more mistakes than normal and seem nervous. I don’t know.”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He assures you, patting your head.

You chew on your lip. “Is this about this morning?”

Donghyuck furrows his brow and tries to stamp down the flash of panic that flares through him. “About what this morning?”

“Me having you cover the hickeys and not saying I love you back.”

His heart sinks. Of course you heard him. “No, you rarely say it back anyways,” he huffs, rolling his eyes. “I know you love me.”

And the way you love him, as only a friend, will be enough for now.

—————————

HE’D GOTTEN DISTANT. He already regretted it, the way your face sank and you seemed hurt if he said he was busy, but his feelings for you were only growing stronger and he didn’t want to force you into an awkward situation where he confesses and you can’t reciprocate.

And selfishly, he wanted to at least have access to hook up with you if he couldn’t kiss you and have you as his partner. Hook ups were more infrequent, though, and while you two still joked and he tried to keep his nerves hidden and the tension unnoticeable, it was to the point you were upset.

He felt unbelievably guilty.

And the guys had figured out something was going on (and by that, he means Jaemin and Renjun did but Jaemin accidentally told the rest of them so now there was a whole mess with them chiding him and constantly giving him updates on how upset you were that he was distant as if he didn’t already feel like shit).

That’s how he’d gotten to this scenario, forced into a room with you by the guys (and they’d barricaded the door with furniture before yelling they’d be back in an hour. They didn’t know you all were hooking up, but they knew there was something wrong and they were sick of it).

“Hyuck?” You ask, voice small, and he flinches slightly, closing his eyes before turning to look at you and studying how nervous you are, hands fidgeting and teeth worrying your lip.

He tugs your lip out with his thumb and smiles at you. “I’m sorry.”

You hum.

“I’ve been distant, it’s not your fault, I’m just going through some shit and have been stressed and unfairly taking it out on you. It’s not intentional, I swear, I still love being around you, but… it’s hard.”

Nodding, you rub his arm. “Dance stuff?”

Donghyuck swallows. “Yeah… yeah, the, um, the partner dance. I’m worried I’ll hurt you or mess up the day of — which is ironic because I’ve hurt you by being distant — but I’ve been trying to workout more and figure out why I’m suddenly so nervous, on top of exams. ‘M sorry.”

“It’s ok, Hyuckie,” you promise, kissing his cheek, and his heart skips a beat. “Do you need stress relief?”

He stares at you with wide eyes. “The guys’ll be back soon.”

“That didn’t stop you from fucking me on your couch,” you chuckle, and he hums, tilting his head back as you press kisses to his jawline and neck.

You tug the hem of his shirt up and off over his head, kissing down his stomach and smiling as his muscles tense under your featherlight touch.

“Let me take care of you,” you coo, palming him over his shorts, and he lets out a pitiful whine that has his face burning in shame.

“Please,” he chokes out, overwhelmed with the care and reverence in your touch. He knows you love him, not how he loves you, but the way you’re kissing his skin and working him up makes him feel like you could reciprocate, cherishing his body and tan skin and the bruise on his stomach, right above his hip bone, from dance practice.

You chuckle and tug his boxers down, and with a grin up at him, you take him into your mouth, holding his gaze.

He wants to look away, shy, but the sight of you, hair framing your face, eyes bright and full of concern and desire, is too spectacular to look away from.

His hips buck, and his breathing is rough and ragged as you take him fully into your mouth, and when you force his thighs apart and one hand fondles his balls, he groans weakly, voice cracking at the sensation.

“Fuck, baby, please,” he begs, and he’s not even sure what he’s asking for at this point. You hum around him and he can feel his thighs twitch from the sensation, and he fists a hand in your hair, desperate to ground himself. “Ah, fuck, you’re so good to me.”

You moan around him, and he watches as you move one hand down to your shorts, and he can’t even attempt to tell you off, hopelessly aroused that you’re so needy from his cock in your mouth.

Donghyuck shudders as he cums, and you swallow it with a wink, and offer him your wet fingers. With a dark groan and heady eyes locked on yours, he licks your arousal off and tugs you closer to him by your hips.

Hyuck kisses you like you’re the air he needs to live, and you taste like his arousal, and he’s sure you can taste your wetness on his tongue, and he presses closer to you, grinding his already hardening cock against your hip as he swallows your gasps.

“Off,” he grumbles, yanking at your clothes, and you eagerly shuck them off.

He kisses you again, distractedly, softly, sweetly. He knows it’s obvious now, that he’s in love with you, but kissing you is quickly becoming one of his favorite things and he’s not sure he can ever stop — not when you moan into his mouth and let out soft needy cries as his fingers work you open for him, or when you press against him and suck on his tongue.

It doesn’t take long to prep you, not with how you’re soaking his fingers, and he eagerly cages you under him, sliding home with a high moan as you clench around him, nails digging into his shoulders and legs wrapping around him to keep him in you.

He fucks you eagerly, but it’s still sweet, the kisses he peppers your torso in, and he tries to drink in the sight of you, skin sweaty and heated and covered in his marks, eyes dark, and lips kiss swollen. He can’t handle the sight though, furrowing his brow as his eyes slide shut and he finds a rhythm that has you quivering under him.

He’s not going to last long, so he circles your clit and teases your nipples, delighting in the way you shudder.

You seem close too, and when you’re on the edge, you gasp out, “gonna cum, Hyuckie, fuck,”

He kisses you as you do, groaning into it as his hips stutter and he fills you. He collapses against you, and rolls to the side so he isn’t crushing you.

Brushing some of his hair aside, you meet his eyes.

“Hyuck?” You ask after a few beats of silence.

“Pretty,” he answers, shutting his eyes. He knows what’s coming.

“It’s the first time you kissed me.” You finally say. “Why?”

Donghyuck sighs. “You know why.”

You bite your lip. “You weren’t distant from the dance stress, were you?” And when he shakes his head, you tap his cheek until he opens his eyes and looks at you. “Say it.”

He pauses. He owed this much to you. “I’m… I like you. I started liking you a while ago, and I started getting fucking possessive and bitchy and sappy and I know you just wanted to hook up so I tried to distance myself to not force my feelings on you.”

You laugh and roll your hips, and he hisses at the feeling on his sensitive cock from where he’s still in you.

“You really are a himbo.”

Donghyuck makes an offended noise.

“I wouldn’t let you call me baby or degrade me during sex if I didn’t like you, and I wouldn’t be upset that you were distant if I didn’t care about you, you fucking idiot.”

“Wow.” He grumbles. “I bear my heart to you and you call me an idiot.”

He’s smiling like one, so it’s fitting, and his heart is racing. You like him too?

You grin and kiss him, soft and sweet and a promise, a kiss simply to kiss — with no motives for sex. “My idiot?” You amend, and he hums, pleased.

“As long as you’re mine,” Hyuck pauses. “And don’t try to challenge my position as best ballet dancer anymore.”

You roll your eyes. “No promises on the second demand,”

—————————

DONGHYUCK WAS A MAN IN LOVE. Proudly, much to the chagrin of his friends.

He paraded you around in his leather jacket, smiling fondly and praising you or kissing you for the little things, constantly holding your hand and begging for attention, which you always gave him with a fond eye roll and a few playful insults.

“You all are disgusting,” Chenle groaned.

You were cuddled against Hyuck, staring up at him with a soft smile and stars in your eyes, and he was sure he looked the same.

“We’re happy. Stay mad.” Hyuck dismisses, and he hears an offended whine from Chenle, but he ignores it to toy with your fingers and rub his thumb over your palm.

“If you fuck on our couch, I’m going to kill you, Hyuck,” Renjun warns, and he chokes on air.

“About that…”

You look up at him, wide-eyed, but it’s too late.

“How would you feel if I told you we were friends with benefits first and definitely fucked on the couch?”

Renjun throws a pillow at his face, and he whines when it connects.

“I’m throwing the couch out.”

“I deep cleaned it!” Hyuck protests.

“It has the ghost of your cum, I can never look at it the same.” Renjun protests, and you giggle.

Jaemin glances up. “So we’re getting rid of the grandma couch?”

“It’s not a grandma couch,” Jisung protests, and everyone stares at him blankly before a few of you burst out laughing. “Okay, maybe the pattern is, and I got it from a thrift store, but we’re college students. Not grandmas. So it’s a college student couch.”

“It smelled like mothballs when we bought it, Ji. It’s a grandma couch. And apparently also Donghyuck’s fucking couch.”

Hyuck shrugs. “At least I get some.”

Jeno laughs. “Thanks to us. You were really going to let them go because you were too shy to admit it.”

Donghyuck throws the pillow at Jeno, but he catches it.

“I hate you all.”

When you pout at him, pointing at yourself, he hums.

“I hate all of you except my baby.”

taglist (ask to be added): @sehunniepot @kshynj @jaeymark @n0hyuck @jenojaeminrenjun @keemburley @diordolcevita @cosmicwintr @makiswrld @lighthyucks @sadgirlroo @thelmathinks @the-borahae-jj @bockhyun @luv4cheol @shotarowo @greentealatte97

#this was so cute 💔#hyuck and mc’s relationship #i love a good fwb to lovers#i also just love the way you write in general #especially the end where he called mc “his baby’’#🥹#can’t wait to read the rest of the series rosie <3 #ficrecs #ldh

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs