#I should reblog this at a reasonable hour

[lemotmo]

Now that's been a few days and I've had a chance to talk to literally anybody that would listen, the thing that bugs me about Bobby's death is that it requires an intense amount of denial and extreme belief in TV magic. Hen had an open wound and she was in the same room as Chimney - if Bobby contracted the virus through a hole in his breathing apparatus, then Hen definitely should have. That's what annoys me about Bobby's death. I have to ignore the logistics to make Bobby's death make sense. And that should never happen when it's a main character's death.

Now as much as Bobby is a literal Schrodinger's Cat right now, he's alive. We just don't have confirmation. Schrodinger's Bobby is very much alive - I don't know in what capacity, but he's survived this. I'm ignoring all the articles and posts and purely looking at it through the lens of the episode. They made Bobby's death too vague. They showed an overhead shot of him and then them rolling out a body bag - they didn't do the traditional shot of zipping the body bag over Bobby's body, they just showed the bag. That amount of vagueness means that Bobby is alive. Now when will they reveal that? Hopefully before the season finale. But he's alive.

I had the chance to rewatch the episode and I caught something - The CEO called 911 for Moira Blake. What for? We're never told because Athena and Buck's goal of obtaining the antiviral before the military does steamrolls that. But if I had to make an educated guess on why the CEO called 911, it was because of what Moira said before it cut to black - she mentioned in her pitch that her antiviral could was tested on an superstrain of CCHF, and when the CEO mentioned that no one had a superstrain of CCHF, she said, they will. She has no reason to believe that anyone in the lab contracted the virus, at least not to the extent of a deadly outbreak. And obtaining CCHF without access to a lab can not be easy, especially since BSL-4 labs aren't that common - there are only 13 in the states and on top of that, not every one will deal with CCHF. (The one that Moira worked at is fictional) So, either Moira believed that she could regain access to a lab facility again, or that the current lab would let her back or she stole the virus as well as the antiviral. But either way, if this set off alarm bells in the CEO's head, it definitely did in the FBI and military's. This strain of CCHF, while not pandemic material, is deadly and can cause severe outbreaks. It makes sense that the government would want to get ahead on finding a treatment for this superstrain of the virus. And then I saw this post you reblogged (https://www.tumblr.com/lemotmo/781480150349037568) and it further confirms my theory. They're worried about this strain of CCHF being turned into a biological weapon and of course, they're going to test treatments on the one person who hasn't been treated and still has the strain of the virus.

Have a Great Day!!!

Oh wow! You have been cooking! 🤗 Thank you for sharing your spec with me!

Yeah, nothing about that two parter episode made any sense. That includes Bobby's death. It took him hours to show any symptoms, while Chimney had them straight away.

I'm really curious where all of this is leading us. I'm quite convinced that Bobby is still alive, but there are so many theories out there and all of them are plausible in some ways.

It'll be a looooooong two weeks. 🙄

I cannot wait for that episode!

[strivia]

So, I've been rotating a new fic idea in my head that I've been calling the "Mantah Corp Kenji AU". And I made manips for it! It's so hard to get clips of Kenji not flecked with dirt, I'm dying out here, SAVE ME.

The basic gist of the idea is a "Kenji never went to Camp Cretaceous & thus never got stuck on Isla Nublar" AU. He was still intended to go to Camp Cretaceous, but something changed last minute. So it's this dark mirror of, these other kids could have been me! I feel like having that "I got so bizarrely lucky I dodged this bullet" experience only to be confronted with the kids he would have been with would be causing wild cognitive dissonance that he's actively trying not to unpack.

This would begin as an alternate S4 with Kenji meeting Darius when Kash catches him. Kenji is 'working' on the island at his dad's behest though lbr he's probably not doing a whole lot of actual work, but like it's meant to be character building for him ig. Go to the island with no wi-fi and help our business son.

So suddenly here's this kid here who was apparently trapped on dino island for 6 months (Darius). And cause Kenji's the bosses son he "takes Darius off of Kash's hands" and drags him into playing video games with him and Darius does not know wtf is happening.

Kenji says, this is now my traumatized best friend actually.

There's more to the idea and a whole lot of ripple effects to the timeline to consider but !!!!!

[unladielike]

...So since reblogging asks hasn't really helped in instigating more interactions on my blog (because I guess people don't really enjoy continuing asks into threads anymore?), I'll be posting a brand new starter call! Anyways, you know the drill. Like this post for a starter and if you're a multimuse, please specify a muse. Oh, and alternatively, if there's a verse you specifically want to request from Vivian, do specify that too; otherwise, I will default to using a more modern, slice of life setting.

[canisvesperus]

I’m going to reblog some more characters who are not Eridan as a treat.

[ekingston]

SO HERE IS THE WHOLE STORY (SO FAR).

I am on my knees begging you to reblog this post and to stop reblogging the original ones I sent out yesterday. This is the complete account with all the most recent info; the other one is just sending people down senselessly panicked avenues that no longer lead anywhere.

IN SHORT

Cliff Weitzman, CEO of Speechify and (aspiring?) voice actor, used AI to scrape thousands of popular, finished works off AO3 to list them on his own for-profit website and in his attached app. He did this without getting any kind of permission from the authors of said work or informing AO3. Obviously.

When fandom at large was made aware of his theft and started pushing back, Weitzman issued a non-apology on the original social media posts—using 

his dyslexia; 

his intent to implement a tip-system for the plagiarized authors; and 

a sudden willingness to take down the work of every author who saw my original social media posts and emailed him individually with a ‘valid’ claim,

as reasons we should allow him to continue monetizing fanwork for his own financial gain.

When we less-than-kindly refused, he took down his ‘apologies’ as well as his website (allegedly���it’s possible that our complaints to his web host, the deluge of emails he received or the unanticipated traffic brought it down, since there wasn’t any sort of official statement made about it), and when it came back up several hours later, all of the work formerly listed in the fan fiction category was no longer there. 

THE TAKEAWAYS

1. Cliff Weitzman (aka Ofek Weitzman) is a scumbag with no qualms about taking fanwork without permission, feeding it to AI and monetizing it for his own financial gain; 

2. Fandom can really get things done when it wants to, and 

3. Our fanworks appear to be hidden, but they’re NOT DELETED from Weitzman’s servers, and independently published, original works are still listed without the authors' permission. We need to hold this man responsible for his theft, keep an eye on both his current and future endeavors, and take action immediately when he crosses the line again. 

THE TIMELINE, THE DETAILS, THE SCREENSHOTS (behind the cut)

Sunday night, December 22nd 2024, I noticed an influx in visitors to my fic You & Me & Holiday Wine. When I searched the title online, hoping to find out where they came from, a new listing popped up (third one down, no less):

This listing is still up today, by the way, though now when you follow the link to word-stream, it just brings you to the main site. (Also, to be clear, this was not the cause for the influx of traffic to my fic; word-stream did not link back to the original work anywhere.)

I followed the link to word-stream, where to my horror Y&M&HW was listed in its entirety—though, beyond the first half of the first chapter, behind a paywall—along with a link promising to take me—through an app downloadable on the Apple Store—to an AI-narrated audiobook version. When I searched word-stream itself for my ao3 handle I found both of my multi-chapter fics were listed this way:

Because the tags on my fics (which included genres* and characters, but never the original IPs**) weren’t working, I put ‘Kara Danvers’ into the search bar and discovered that many more supercorp fics (Supergirl TV fandom, Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor pairing) were listed.

I went looking online for any mention of word-stream and AI plagiarism (the covers—as well as the ridiculously inflated number of reviews and ratings—made it immediately obvious that AI fuckery was involved), but found almost nothing: only one single Reddit post had been made, and it received (at that time) only a handful of upvotes and no advice. 

I decided to make a tumblr post to bring the supercorp fandom up to speed about the theft. I draw as well as write for fandom and I’ve only ever had to deal with art theft—which has a clear set of steps to take depending on where said art was reposted—and I was at a loss regarding where to start in this situation.

After my post went up I remembered Project Copy Knight, which is worth commending for the work they’ve done to get fic stolen from AO3 taken down from monetized AI 'audiobook’ YouTube accounts. I reached out to @echoekhi, asking if they’d heard of this site and whether they could advise me on how to get our works taken down.

While waiting for a reply I looked into Copy Knight’s methods and decided to contact OTW’s legal department:

And then I went to bed.

By morning, tumblr friends @makicarn and @fazedlight as well as a very helpful tumblr anon had seen my post and done some very productive sleuthing:

@echoekhi had also gotten back to me, advising me, as expected, to contact the OTW. So I decided to sit tight until I got a response from them.

That response came only an hour or so later: 

Which was 100% understandable, but still disappointing—I doubted a handful of individual takedown requests would accomplish much, and I wasn’t eager to share my given name and personal information with Cliff Weitzman himself, which is unavoidable if you want to file a DMCA.

I decided to take it to Reddit, hoping it would gain traction in the wider fanfic community, considering so many fandoms were affected. My Reddit posts (with the updates at the bottom as they were emerging) can be found here and here.

A helpful Reddit user posted a guide on how users could go about filing a DMCA against word-stream here (to wobbly-at-best results)

A different helpful Reddit user signed up to access insight into word-streams pricing. Comment is here.

Smells unbelievably scammy, right? In addition to those audacious prices—though in all fairness any amount of money would be audacious considering every work listed is accessible elsewhere for free—my dyscalculia is screaming silently at the sight of that completely unnecessary amount of intentionally obscured numbers.

Speaking of which! As soon as the post on r/AO3—and, as a result, my original tumblr post—began taking off properly, sometime around 1 pm, jumpscare! A notification that a tumblr account named @cliffweitzman had commented on my post, and I got a bit mad about the gist of his message :

Fortunately he caught plenty of flack in the comments from other users (truly you should check out the comment section, it is extremely gratifying and people are making tremendously good points), in response to which, of course, he first tried to both reiterate and renegotiate his point in a second, longer comment (which I didn’t screenshot in time so I’m sorry for the crappy notification email formatting):

which he then proceeded to also post to Reddit (this is another Reddit user’s screenshot, I didn’t see it at all, the notifications were moving too fast for me to follow by then)

... where he got a roughly equal amount of righteously furious replies. (Check downthread, they're still there, all the way at the bottom.)

After which Cliff went ahead & deleted his messages altogether. 

It’s not entirely clear whether his account was suspended by Reddit soon after or whether he deleted it himself, but considering his tumblr account is still intact, I assume it’s the former. He made a handful of sock puppet accounts to play around with for a while, both on Reddit and Tumblr, only one of which I have a screenshot of, but since they all say roughly the same thing, you’re not missing much:

And then word-stream started throwing a DNS error.

That lasted for a good number of hours, which was unfortunately right around the time that a lot of authors first heard about the situation and started asking me individually how to find out whether their work was stolen too. I do not have that information and I am unclear on the perimeters Weitzman set for his AI scraper, so this is all conjecture: it LOOKS like the fics that were lifted had three things in common:

They were completed works;

They had over several thousand kudos on AO3; and

They were written by authors who had actively posted or updated work over the past year.

If anyone knows more about these perimeters or has info that counters my observation, please let me know!

I finally thought to check/alert evil Twitter during this time, and found out that the news was doing the rounds there already. I made a quick thread summarizing everything that had happened just in case. You can find it here.

I went to Bluesky too, where fandom was doing all the heavy lifting for me already, so I just reskeeted, as you do, and carried on.

Sometime in the very early evening, word-stream went back up—but the fan fiction category was nowhere to be seen. Tentative joy and celebration!***

That’s when several users—the ones who had signed up for accounts to gain intel and had accessed their own fics that way—reported that their work could still be accessed through their history. Relevant Reddit post here.

Sooo—

We’re obviously not done. The fanwork that was stolen by Weitzman may be inaccessible through his website right now, but they aren’t actually gone. And the fact that Weitzman wasn’t willing to get rid of them altogether means he still has plans for them. 

This was my final edit on my Reddit post before turning off notifications, and it's pretty much where my head will be at for at least the foreseeable future:

Please feel free to add info in the comments, make your own posts, take whatever action you want to take to protect your work. I only beg you—seriously, I’m on my knees here—to not give up like I saw a handful of people express the urge to do. Keep sharing your creative work and remain vigilant and stay active to make sure we can continue to do so freely. Visit your favorite fics, and the ones you’ve kept in your ‘marked for later’ lists but never made time to read, and leave kudos, leave comments, support your fandom creatives, celebrate podficcers and support AO3. We created this place and it’s our responsibility to keep it alive and thriving for as long as we possibly can.

Also FUCK generative AI. It has NO place in fandom spaces.

THE 'SMALL' PRINT (some of it in all caps):

*Weitzman knew what he was doing and can NOT claim ignorance. One, it’s pretty basic kindergarten stuff that you don’t steal some other kid’s art project and present it as your own only to act surprised when they protest and then tell the victim that they should have told you sooner that they didn’t want their project stolen. And two, he was very careful never to list the IPs these fanworks were based on, so it’s clear he was at least familiar enough with the legalities to not get himself in hot water with corporate lawyers. Fucking over fans, though, he figured he could get away with that. 

**A note about the AI that Weitzman used to steal our work: it’s even greasier than it looks at first glance. It’s not just the method he used to lift works off AO3 and then regurgitate onto his own website and app. Looking beyond the untold horrors of his AI-generated cover ‘art’, in many cases these covers attempt to depict something from the fics in question that can’t be gleaned from their summaries alone. In addition, my fics (and I assume the others, as well) were listed with generated genres; tags that did not appear anywhere in or on my fic on AO3 and were sometimes scarily accurate and sometimes way off the mark. I remember You & Me & Holiday Wine had ‘found family’ (100% correct, but not tagged by me as such) and I believe The Shape of Soup was listed as, among others, ‘enemies to friends to lovers’ and ‘love triangle’ (both wildly inaccurate). Even worse, not all the fic listed (as authors on Reddit pointed out) came with their original summaries at all. Often the entire summary was AI-generated. All of these things make it very clear that it was an all-encompassing scrape—not only were our fics stolen, they were also fed word-for-word into the AI Weitzman used and then analyzed to suit Weitzman’s needs. This means our work was literally fed to this AI to basically do with whatever its other users want, including (one assumes) text generation. 

***Fan fiction appears to have been made (largely) inaccessible on word-stream at this time, but I’m hearing from several authors that their original, independently published work, which is listed at places like Kindle Unlimited, DOES still appear in word-stream’s search engine. This obviously hurts writers, especially independent ones, who depend on these works for income and, as a rule, don’t have a huge budget or a legal team with oceans of time to fight these battles for them. If you consider yourself an author in the broader sense, beyond merely existing online as a fandom author, beyond concerns that your own work is immediately at risk, DO NOT STOP MAKING NOISE ABOUT THIS.

PLEASE check my later versions of this post via my main page to make sure you have the latest version of this post before you reblog. All the information I’ve been able to gather is in my reblogs below, and it's frustrating to see the old version getting passed around, sending people on wild goose chases.

Thank you all so much!

[slushi-chan]

Tw: talking about a creepy dream and distress (Spencer Reid was in it for some fucking reason, why’d he have to be in a bad dream)

Had a dream yesterday while napping where I was in the past but I was invisible and watching the past unfold and Spencer Reid was in the dream and going through it (poor bby can’t get a break even in dreams) and he visited some guy and I was there in the past as this guys pet like I was straight up treated like his pet, not in a sex way but like literally like I was just some animal and I remember present me in the past kept saying things just like commenting on what was happening or saying things to Spencer even though he couldn’t hear me and I kept trying to interact but I couldn’t and I remember Spencer was crying at one point and I wanted to hug him but I couldn’t and there’s other stuff that happened that I can’t remember and there’s some stuff I vaguely remember but can’t verbalize it’s just in my head anyway I can’t stop thinking about that dream and it’s really uncomfortable and distressing and I’m about to go back to bed now and I have this pit in my stomach and I just feel really bad right now and I needed to just vent. I wish Spencer was here to just hold me as I fall asleep and make me feel safe it’s so unfair he’s not real

[scopophobia-polaris]

So, to add on to Navi's post, because her whole read for the original was getting screenshots from the game to debunk what was said, of course....we are now here. I want to tell you that no one here disagreed with your conclusion about Ganondorf being a victim. What we here disagreed with was the method you used to get there. Simplifying Ganondorf down to solely good or solely evil is something this Fandom does all the time with little to no nuance. And even though you have written an eloquent essay, Published even! You twisted or outright made up parts of the game to get to your conclusion. In essay writing, that's called a logical fallacy, and the whole essay either twists what happens in the game or outright gets it wrong.

Now people are probably gonna wonder why I'm treating this like a big deal or why I'm speaking so blunt, because this is by all means very stupid fandom drama.

But I think when you're a college prof and you get an essay published and it's online for people to read everywhere without you, one, not giving the context behind Ganondorf's creation and the coding of his appearance and motivations, two the complexities of a corporate conglomerate in a notoriously socially conservative country taking aesthetics from countries who were historically colonized. And Three, The way that video games are a collaborative effort with usually no singular vision, this is very true at nintendo despite what people may think, and at any moment changes can be made for any reason by team leads or executives that would hinder or even hurt a story. It detrimental to the audience reading it that you do not provide them more of a couple of screenshots

Basically, many things go into a story and now I'm taking this more from a DOYLIST view right here talking about Nintendo. But I'm doing this because you keep trying to say..... well fuck man do I need to pull up more examples? Navi got them all, the whole essay is you trying HEAVILY to imply that Nintendo MEANT to do all of this, as in intentional in the story, idk I feel crazy, words have meaning, specific wording has implication, oh and this dosent even get into how localization can change things 😃😀 wording has meaning and sometimes translators don't have cultural contexxxtttttttt and to not even mention about Nintendo's history or even the short hand that comes from Ganondorf's design and the historical Orientalism behind it feels like a disservice to the paper, but much more qualified people then I have discussed the way Ganondorf is written and probably would love to discuss or link to previous writing again if asked.

And this is a cold take but Nintendo isn’t the place you should be looking to for deep story telling, they will always be a corporate entity first and the bottom line is a general audience, this does not mean JUST KIDS this means to a generalized population. And this is extremely cynical but a lot of people cant even handle the complexity of a female character who is mean, like Midna, do you really think people would handle a Ganondorf like how he is in Tp being portrayed in any form of film language as good????? This game dropped 5 years after 9/11, Nintendo was never gonna lose out in money like that.

And Dude people have given so much shit to HUGE fanartists and comic authors about their work portraying Ganondorf in a sympathetic light, you would of thunk more people would of picked up on Ganondorf's story being written as tragedy if there was something in the game that actually DID that. Maybe they would of written a blog post about how Midna saw Link kill Ganondorf and was ashamed of that or Ganondorf TOTALLY said the history of light and shadow will be written in blood thing before the final battle, you think people would of talked about huh why did Ganondorf say that there or something and maybe went 🤔 instead of it being argued that Tp Ganondorf had the weakest writing of the series until TotK threw a pile of flaming shit at my door with a picture of Ganondorf on it.

Navi also goes in depth on how Hyrule has not exactly stagnated like what was claimed in History of Light and Shadow by using the Goron merchants and Yeto as examples.

Rynling has stated that the cause of the stagnation and decline is due to an ineffectual leader that has "Not allowed its people to be revitalized by change and diversity."

Now I am familiar with the flaws of an undetermined national unity, I am very familiar with the subject, but I’m not going to speak like an authority. Id rather let someone much more qualified make that post and I link back to it, because i know its coming. But Navi said in her post that the idea of what could of happened at Arbiter's Grounds can completely blow over someone's head if they didn't play OoT first, and I think more or less this is accurate, certain things are lost in Wind Waker even with the recaps, but I wanna join in on this in my own way...

Rynling....you may say Hyrule has been on a decline during Tp......you may even think OoT had a more stable Hyrule or some shit.....i THINK YOU FORGOT ABOUT THE PLOT OF OCARINA OF TIME BAYBEEEEEEE

THE SUPPLEMENTAL MATERIAL THAT I CAN PULL UP TO PROVE MY SHIT ABOUT OOT HYRULE BEING DOG SHIT IN COMPARISON TO TP

Like if you're seriously gonna link me and Navi to your essay then I am about to go full BTW it's a Sativa and eat that bitch after midnight cuZ we YELLIN ABOUT OCARINA OF TIME ON THIS POST FOR EVERYONE🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟

All of Ocarina of Time's narrative is haunted by the civil war, the whole reason why Link is being raised in the woods is cuz of the civil war, the Sheikah are implied to have died out during the same conflict, and well its said that Hyrule was unified during it

Civil War yet the translators use unified the country like it WASNT under a sole ruler before? Hello? I need to go back through the Japanese script for the game again to see if i missed something of the game and freak it harder. And do realize the Deku sprout in this screenshot says fierce war but every where else, including the Zelda wiki (not fandom) its CIVIL War.

The Gate to Death mountain and Simultaniously the fence at Zora's river gives us and idea that peace was....tenuous at best downright hostile at worse given relations with the Gerudo

so today we gonna do some fun comparing and contrasting the Gorons and how they are treated in OoT to TP

and we gonna start with his racist ass BHJBHDBHKCJW

I mean, damn remmeber how mad Darunia is at Link for being the supposed royal family messenger? Link Unlocking the door to Darunia's room with Zelda's lullaby, I think it's a little funny that Darunia is hung up , you know, like he knows this is some disrespectful shit

Hey wannna hear some shit? The gates at the edge of death mountain aren't guarded by Gorons and were not built by them you can tell, the only way to visit the mountain is to get permission from the King to go up and not from the people that actually live there

God and like, there is something about the way Darunia locks himself in his room, like he does it to keep the ruby safe from all the other Gorons being so hungry that he's frightened they're gonna eat it, he doesn't know what to do on how to act about the Dodongos that Ganondorf summon on him for not giving over that rock. It qlmost sounds like when Ganondorf came in and Threatened Darunia, and that he (Darunia) sent a message to the royal family asking for help, why else would he be expecting someone to come meet with him?

"If I'm not mistaken, you came out here to eat the red stone too! Well, too bad! It's not here! What? That's not why you're here? You're looking for a "Spiritual Stone?" You must mean that delicious-looking red stone that was once displayed above the city! I was so hungry that I thought it would be OK to just give it one tiny, little lick...so I snuck up there. But it was already gone! I think Big Brother took it away. He always says that everyone is after that red stone! Big Brother has shut himself up in his room saying, "I will wait in here for the Royal Family's messenger!" this is a quote from the Goron that you can find on the middle of the rope bridge thing in Goron city.

Yeah so he sent a letter or something and no one answered yeesh.

contrast this all with TP where OH LOOKS WHO'S GUARDING DEATH MOUNTAIN

so in TP spoilers, this happens

Kakariko is more connected then ever! Renado here is wondering what the hell is going on with their FRIENDS. And yeah the Goron elder Gor Coron is trying to keep the last few people from kakariko left safe, and other Gorons, i mean, theyre keeping a piece of the fused shadow in there. also the way that entry into the temple goes in this game is cute, Darunia was freaking it cuz everyone is starving, but here Link wrestles his way up a mountain to ask the Gron elder whats happening since he was asked to come here by Renado, Gor Coron goes DAMN

unless......?

IDK ITS LIKE? ITS SILLY? Idk Hyrule isnt the best place but why try and act like this doesnt happen during TP?

so where am i getting at with this? the hell was going on back during OoT? If things are so odd and weirdly tense with the gates gaurds and non responses

"As time passed, the Triforce became a legend, and the different people of Hyrule forgot the laws and wisdom that the goddesses had left behind. Warfare and strife became common in Hyrule, as the armies of the Zora marched on the Hylians. The Gorons fought the Gerudo. It seemed every race of Hyrule was at the other's throat. Only the secluded Kokiri, sheltered by their magical forest and the Great Deku Tree, were spared the destruction of Hyrule's civil wars.

After 50 years of ceaseless combat, there arose a Hylian King of great wisdom, courage and power. Through his brilliant military campaigns and wise diplomacy, he was able to bring the varied people of Hyrule into a tenuous harmony. Treaties of peace were signed, and prosperity once again seemed to bloom in Hyrule. But no sooner had people declared peace in Hyrule than trouble once again stalked the land."

Tenuous Harmony, could you imagine if they dropped a line like this in Creating a champion? The tumblr side of the fandom would go fucking nuts with that info like OHHHHH SHIT WAS GOING ONNNNNN

This was ALL on the offical Nintendo Zelda website back when oot was the big game out, we have this cuz someone saved it to the wayback, THIS SCREENSHOT WAS FROM DECEMBER 14TH 2001, ABOUT A FULL YEAR AND A DAY UNTIL WIND WAKER WAS RELEASED IN JAPAN. THAT'S INSANE RIGHT???? ‼️‼️🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

And then it all probably got deleted once wind waker became the new thing!!! Or when they wanted to modernize and deleted it!!! THAT SUCKS RIGHT????

And what's worse is that it introduces some new info and also clarifies something. Hey you know when I made that post like damn Darunia racist as hell

"Warfare and strife became common in Hyrule, as the armies of the Zora marched on the Hylians. The Gorons fought the Gerudo."

NO WHERE IN THE GAME THE LEGEND OF ZELDA OCARINA OF TIME IT SAYS THIS, IT DOES NOT STATE THERE WAS CONFLICT BETWEEN THE GORONS AND GERUDO.....LIKE DIN GET YA KIDS.....IM LOOKING EVERYWHERE FOR SOMETHING I MUST OF MISSED.

But Like oh hey a fucking explanation to why he just fucking says that, I figure it was cuz of Ganondorf trying to almond mom all of them or that he kept talking to the King and well.....Navi already showed the GENERAL reaction to the Gerudo in castle town.

it went from oh hes just racist to dARUNIA AND GANONDORF HAVE HISTORY????

But the interesting one is why did thy Zora "marched on the Hylians."

Like sitting here like, I know a comic made in Germany shouldn't be a be all end all in shit I knew it never was and it would like. If you put this in warrior cats canonicoty categorization would be considered lower down supplementary material dubious canon, but their are things in the comic AND the Himekawa manga that behinds some behind the scenes actions given that LINK'S MOM HAS A MOSTLY CONSISTENT DESIGN WHAT THE HELLLLLLLL. And I always thought the Goron Zora war thing was stupid but Nintendo then had that out on their website, what the hell was going ON.

Because idk i didnt think much of Zora De Bon XVI and the Hyrulien King's relationship but

Now a days the Zelda website is much different and does not have lore pages like this anymore, it's more like a summary of the timeline. But yeah actually Nintendo approved shit, Hylian/Zora war.

Hyrule is progressing, its just going slowly, Hyrule is not AS stifled by its monarchy or a lack of integration during TP because Hyrule IS integrating, is people's are intermingling like is hasn't before during this game.

And this isn't even to get started on the E3 demo of Twilight princess that the trip that Link is supposed to take at the beginning of the game was to be the representative of Ordon at the "Hyrule summit

and Hyrule is described in a VERY specific way

Kingdom of Hyrule and neighboring realms? like theyre all not under the crown? so like???? FUN, that didn't end up making it in the game. the dailouge that is, But the remints is still there in the way the game is made up, like how OoT is built off is civil war bones

actually funny, Navi just got me screenshots of the way the dialouge was changed here

Like stuff clearly changed during the demo and finished game, I should of been touching more on the intricacies of how like shit was just change for no reason sometimes but uh....

But maybe @rawliverandgoronspice would want to one day like about games industry stuff if you ever want to 😭 I know you're super passionate on this and I wish I like even off hand mentioned something about how like TP is also effected by how games are made but I didn't and I'm a fool but games are complicated as hell and that post you made talking a bit about it was fun ya know 👉👈 and the Beta of Tp changes a LOT of stuff, one Rusl really is like a brother to link in the way he messes with him, it actually makes some weird Nintendo licensed shit saying hes like a big brother to Link made WAYYYYY more since with the Beta in mind, but....that also mean they tried to keep the big bro vibes....but then put the dad ones in there too like.....uh...did..someone not change his summary anywhere?

that was my big thing i wanted to talk about, navi's already touched on everything else i just think the parallels here between the Goron quest between OoT and TP changes in such a nice way.

And like this doesn't get into other shit about TP, like if we wanna deep dive into shit ya don't gotta do it by twisting the story, like I was going and talking to @blackautmedia to ask with some help when it came to like.......god idk what i even said anymore i was going a mile a minute. He wants to write his own thing on Twilight princess so im not gonna step on his toes but he has recommended Arabs and Muslims in the Media: Race and Representation after 9/11 by Evelyn Alsultany, the link I provided here is too her website and her page on the book this link here is from her own site that has a pdf of a part American Quarterly with a paper by the same name.

Anyways i wanna reflex for a moment cuz ive been up for hours finishing this because my brain wont stop unless i do. But the thing that by all means started this, was not your reblog linking me and Navi to your essay, or that there is 2 versions i found out where the paper published one had a lot more context to why you wrote your tumblr post the way you did, Navi helped me get the parts that were cut, please realize removing these does not remove the sentiment from the essay, its baked in.

fanfic, its a popular Fan interpretation that there was fighting between the Gerudo and Hylians after Ganondorf was caught trying to take the triforce, but this is not stated to of happened in the lore itself or even has evidence to back it up other then the Implications of Arbiter's grounds theory

UGHHHH AND THIS AGAIN "Twilight Princess Delivers a subtle yet poignant protest against neoliberal discourses of empire reflected in the rhetoric of heroism inform the geopolitical movements of Japan throught the twentieth century"

WHAT ARE YOU FUCKING TALKING ABOUT......

i dont mean this in a stupid ass way, im saying where the hell was about the protest thing, wait i really shouldt take from the published one cuz you actually dumbed down the line for tumblr

anyways again, where, Navi made it clear enough with her own post that, no, the way that Ganondorf is animated has no sympathy for him until the light is literally leaving him. Hell Twilight princess inst very kind to the gerudo either given that the only thing said about them is that they were thieves and nothing more. Like somehow OoT is more empathetic to the Gerudo, it doesn't just call them thieves, it aint great its not even good its just a bad portrayal of a people, and yet somehow OoT is willing to show the Gerudo in a neutral light at points then TP ever did.

but the reason i decided to just throw down a post is cuz i was pissed that you went after Ezlo for reblogging ME and NAVI's posts and purposefully misunderstood their fuckin wind waker post about ZELDA YOUTUBERS

dude you had them getting genuinely harassed by people with 0 reading comprehension that thinks a snarky reply to a tumblr post means its 100% correct. Webbed. Site.

anyways, I hope people don't take this as a right or wrong way to interpret a piece of work, as stated before, I read your essay, navi read your essay, you changed parts of Twilight Princess to get to the conclusion of you paper...And im gonna be real but it's kinda crazy that you're using post colonial melancholia for this when it's got some.....well something like idk i need someone to do a full ass review because there are point where i gently raise an eyebrow im gonna be real. but also like

like how do you read his book and then miss out on this, one of your whole big aruments is that hyrule is stagnate and not multi cultural and i had to grab screenshots and Navi had to get shit from the game.

like damn, do yall ever uh feel a strange sadness when dusk falls? i do. Idk this is one of the first and last times Nintendo ever delt with Ganondorf with some form a sympathy for him, cuz we got the dragon explosion in totk its like oh he's turbo evil now and he exploded you exploded him and yet the Gerudo probably still gotta pay for his shit from a billion years ago anyways idk idk idk pot shots at totk again.

I know you dug around a little for that post, and I understand from the numerous people that dmed me about that, you probably went on making an essay on their post so you could sound smart again.

And to be clear, I was told to drop some shit i was about to say about you because no one wants to start fandom drama, neither do I truly and any jab on the post itself would just be rude. people change and some people only learn to shut the hell up, so we'll keep it at that. I just hope you really don't truly recognize some of these people you started shit with.

So yeah tldr, uh.....idk, im going in for an autism screening in a month

also me watching the ending to windwaker cuz i wanted to say something about stong endings TP fans im sorry But Wind waker's ending hits no matter what best sequal to OoT thats isnt Majora's mask

The History of Light and Shadow

At the end of Twilight Princess, Ganondorf delivers one of his most memorable lines, “The history of light and shadow will be written in blood.” He is not wrong. As the player has witnessed over the course of Link’s adventure, Hyrule is haunted by ruins and ghost towns, a mere shadow of what it once was. The landscape is filled with numerous sites of past violence and empty spaces visibly marked by decay and wasted potential.

When Zelda tells Link and Midna that “these dark times are the result of our deeds,” she is referring to specific historical acts of imperialistic aggression. Hyrule established hegemony over its outlying territories by crushing the rebellions against its advances, but the kingdom has suffered from cultural stagnation as a result. Without the dynamic diversity symbolized by Ganondorf, Hyrule finds itself in economic and political decline, isolated from any contact with the world beyond its shrinking borders.

As a representative of a marginalized group of people who have been attacked and driven from their homes, Ganondorf is a tangible manifestation of the horrors of imperialism. He must be defeated, but doing so does not address the underlying problems that have resulted in Hyrule’s decline. I therefore want to argue that Twilight Princess uses Ganondorf to deliver a subtle yet poignant protest against the discourses of empire reflected by the dualistic “light and shadow” rhetoric of heroism that has resulted in tragedy and regret.

Keep reading

[jensthwa]

show & tell pt. 2 (SMG x reader).

part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

SUMMARY:

After the… masterclass you gave Mingi the night before, you’re left anxious on what the future holds for you both. But there’s a pool party you promised you would attend and there’s not really time for you to figure your feelings out before your best friend shows up at your door to drive you to it. So maybe today is not the day to figure your feelings out, right? It’s just a pool party anyways, so nothing out of the ordinary is going to happen… right?

PAIRING: best friend!mingi x afab reader.

GENRE: childhood best friends (idiots) to lovers.

WORD COUNT: 11k.

WARNINGS: SMUT ☽ (MINORS DNI) anxiety attack, attempt !!! at comedy, wooyoung being a little shit part two ft jongho, a new oc being the voice of reason, reader is clueless and in denial i fear, jealousy, miscommunication, fighting so this part is just a tiny bit angsty :(, confessions, teasing, face sitting, hand job, car sex (don't do it in public people, it can get you arrested), pet names (love and baby), a plot line at the end none of you guys are going to get until my new wip drops but it's worth the wait!

NOTES: hey everyone! thank you so much for patiently waiting for this second and last part to drop. i think that, after this one, if you guys want to request any drabbles or if i come up with some scenarios for this couple i will post them but for now nothing is on the works. what is on the works is a wip that's part of the same universe as this one, so pay attention to the new characters i mention if you want any clues! this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send to my askbox/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3

POSTED: july 28th 2024.

TAGLIST (sorry if i forgot anyone, pls let me know!): @vannerriin / @mingtinysworld / @purple-bell / @bakepotatoman / @nxy3h / @taehyungmami / @nxcxllxsevens / @breadpuddingboys / @hotteokkay

masterlist.

When you wake the next morning, the consequences of restless sleep show up in your face as a reminder of what happened the night before. 

It's not that you regret it, it's more the fact that you feel so unapologetic about messing with the perfect dynamic you have with Mingi that caused you to toss and turn so much. 

Last night, after putting your duvet back on and then crashing into the mattress feeling all tingly and giddy, you asked yourself a thousand questions. 

The main one being: What the fuck did you do? 

The words kept repeating over and over in your head, your voice of reason (or your anxiety) screaming at you to get your phone and make it right before everything becomes a complicated, unresolvable mess. 

You had a brief moment of panic and heavy breathing, your chest tight with unspoken emotion and your eyes filled with tears. 

It was too much, so you forced yourself up and paced around for what felt like hours trying to get your feet back on the ground. Nothing was working, so you sat down at your desk and rested your forehead against it. 

When you didn't feel the usual coolness of the wood, a comfort sensation for when your studies got the best out of you for the day, and instead felt a pen almost stab you in the eye, you -very confused- leaned back. 

Mingi’s notebook and the pen he didn't put back on the pencil case seemed to stare back at you lovingly instead of mocking you for losing control over your own emotions. 

A sense of peace washed over you when you flipped the pages and landed on the instructions he wrote down. Memories of the amazing years you have had by his side started crossing your mind, like recomforting flashes that allowed your heartbeat to go back to normal: 

The first day you saw Mingi, chasing behind a worn out soccer ball and then kicking it so hard it landed on your lawn. 

The first time you two hugged, when your dad scolded you for having bad grades until you cried in front of him. 

The way he held your hand before heading inside to take the college admission exam, last year of highschool. 

His kind eyes. His reassuring smile. The way he made you feel just a few hours back. 

There's no getting rid of me either, love.

We'll figure it out. 

Letting a few contained tears run down your cheeks, you nodded to yourself as if he was there in the room with you. 

Yeah, you'll figure it out.  

And then proceeded to, very much, not figure shit out for the rest of the night. You could still feel his hands everywhere and hear his voice against your ear whispering how much he knows you and pays attention to you. 

You are fucked. 

It's all you can think about when you get ready for the day. It's all you can think about when you help your dad with lunch and when you let your parents know at the table that you are going out that same afternoon. 

“Mingi is driving you, right?” 

“Yeah…” you whisper in response, eyes focused on one specific spot at the table and mind a million years away from the conversation. 

“Good. He's such a good kid, Y/N, I'm glad he knows how to take care of you.” 

Choking on air when your brain finally catches up to her words, you look back up at your mother in shock “W-what?” 

“Yeah honey, what? Y/N can take care of herself,” your father chips in, unaware of your red cheeks or the honest expression of panic you're giving both of them “She's a big girl that carries around that, uh… What was it?— Ah, that pepper spray I gave her, right?” 

“R-right.” 

He lets out a satisfied see? at your answer, gives you a tiny smile and gets up from the table to take his finished plate over to the sink. 

Your mom stays behind, giving you a look you can't quite read before her usual calm expression washes it away. Only then, you can take a proper, very needed, calming breath. 

“I need to get ready. Thank you for the food.” 

“You made it, dear.” 

“I mean! For taking care of the, uh, plates,” you clumsily correct yourself right away, getting up from the table as well “Love you. Bye!” 

You don't miss the confused giggle on your way to your room and when you're behind closed doors, you finally take into consideration that you might be, in fact, overreacting.

Not much, you think, but just enough to give your feelings away. And it's truly a shame, because you were planning on concealing and bottle everything up until it, inevitably, blows up in your face. 

Maybe not the smartest option. 

If you bang your head against the wall with enough force maybe, just maybe it’ll help—

Someone's texting you. 

> gi: heeeeey > gi: just woke up lol > gi: had the best sleep ever tho > gi: how are you, love? 

Okay. So normal texting it is. Maybe your initial plan of just pretending nothing happened is, coincidentally, Mingi’s plan as well. 

So you type in it's literally almost one, ya lazy and let your thumb hover over the send button, eyebrows creased at a sudden realization. 

The casual texting annoys you. 

Sure, Mingi is used to keeping everything casual between him and the people he sleeps with, but you're not just anyone! You didn't sleep together, either! 

Oh, maybe that's why. 

But it ticks you off either way. 

Is he not feeling the same way you do? Did it mean something different for him than it did to you? What did it even mean to you in the first place?

Why, after all the panic you felt the night before, did you have any sort of expectation for today? 

It doesn't make any sense. 

You hit send. 

> gi: aaaaand?  > gi: god forbid a man gets a good night's rest after being thrown off a bed. 

Scoffing, your eyes roll before you can even control it and, to your demise, the giddiness returns. You respond with did you get hurt? awww and raise a hand to your blushed cheek before sending the message.

> gi: yeah wtf  > gi: my butt is all bruised.  > gi: kiss it better? 

Oh. 

Not casual texting. At. All. 

Or maybe it is? 

Ugh.

Blanking on everything Mingi has ever texted you before, you decide it's best to entertain yourself by getting all pretty to sit around the house party tonight and do nothing else instead of torturing your confused brain any longer. 

Using the help of an emoji to flip him off and, hopefully, gather yourself together enough to get ready, you shoot him another text rushing him to do the same because you don't want to be late. 

And he usually takes forever to get ready anyways.

Showering with very cold water, taking a good thirty minutes to decide whether to wear something comfy and fitting or sexy and fitting for the party do the job when it comes to taking your mind off him for, at least, the time being. 

Yunho was insistent the day before in that you didn't need to bring a bathing suit if you didn't want to, but you pack one anyways because you can sense Wooyoung's and Jongho’s intentions even if the youngest couldn't make it to your impromptu gathering yesterday. 

They know you hate when they get away with annoying you and throwing you into the nearest body of water -in this case, Yunho’s pool- in front of many people you don't know (therefore, you are not going to able to go insane mode on them) seems like the perfect opportunity to get away with it.

The last time they did it you weren't really able to scold them properly either, so they laughed and pointed at you until you threatened to kick their asses in a very dishonest but playful way. 

Mingi, of course, did nothing but laugh along with everyone else and then kiss your forehead as an apology later that day. 

That was last summer and since then both perpetrators have treated you to meals and buttered you up enough for you to forgive (as if you didn't do that the morning that followed the incident) but you never forget. 

Maybe you should. It would make the sight of Mingi parking outside your house easier, you think.

You're sure he's parking outside just to give your dad, who comes out to greet him with a hug, some peace of mind. He's very protective of you and he trusts Mingi even if he gives him a hard time everytime he sleeps over or takes you somewhere.  

Like now, you have a very clear view through your window of the sermon he's giving your best friend. You don't hear it but he's moving his hands in the air way too much for it not to be a clear step by step on what to do if you run into any trouble on the way to Yunho's. 

Mingi likes step by step and he's good at following instructions, so you don't think it's going to be an issue. 

God damnit, Y/N, get it together. 

Sighing, you pick up your bag, check your outfit once in front of the mirror, and rush downstairs and out of the door. 

“You do know how to change a tire, son?” 

Mingi is standing in front of your dad with his hands behind his back and a tight smile. 

“Yes sir, my dad taught me and then at the school they made sure I didn't forget about it.” 

“And make sure to—” 

“Could you let the guy breathe, dad?” 

They both turn to, your dad wears a mocking smile and you see Mingi’s tight one breaks into a genuine one a second later. A grateful one, even. 

He looks really good. Which is insane, considering that to you he looked like Chewbacca just yesterday morning. 

Crazy what a good orgasm can do to a person. Or maybe it's the first time you ever let yourself see him in this light. Either way, he's wearing light wash jeans and a fitted t-shirt that clings to him just right and it's going to drive you insane, you can just feel it. 

“I was just making sure that he—” 

“Knows what to do,” you nod “He knows what he's doing, dad. Stop giving him a hard time,” you give your dad a quick kiss on the cheek and then rush to the passenger seat, giving Mingi a glance so he can get in the car as well. 

“Alright. Love you, take care!” 

“Love you too, Mr. L/N!” Mingi says, getting into his seat and giving your dad the opportunity to see when he fastens his seatbelt. He doesn't say anything else, even though he didn't tell Mingi specifically that he loved him and instead gives you both a nod of approval. 

When Mingi finally drives off your street and into the main one, you sigh in relief. 

“He's neeever going to trust me, huh?” 

“He trusts you,” you say right away, cheek resting against the seat so you can take a proper look at him “I'm his only daughter and you're a man after all. Cut him some slack.” 

“He never cuts me some slack!” he fights back but you just laugh and he can't help but join you “You look really good, by the way. A dress? Are you trying to impress someone?” The tone he uses sparks the remaining tension from the night before, like zero time has passed since he kissed you goodnight by your front door. 

When you got into the car with Mingi, you didn't consider that you two would be alone for, at least, forty minutes before getting to your destination. Your mind skipped the fact that he has this new ability to fluster you by just existing near you and you curse it for not letting you prepare well enough for the way he's looking at you right now. 

“Obviously,” you answer in a whisper, clearing your throat a second later “Wooyoung needs to be distracted so he doesn't tackle me into the pool the second we get there. Don't know if it's gonna work on Jongho, though.” 

Mingi clicks his tongue, baring his teeth and pretending to really think about it “I don't think so, love. You'll have to bribe him into considering dropping their whole summer schtick for you.” 

“You can help me with that.” 

“Can I now?” 

“Yeah. You can just… lock him up in a room and my dress can do the rest of the work.” 

Your best friend laughs and then takes a hand off the steering wheel to roll the hem of your dress in between his thumb and index. His knuckles brush against your thigh and you almost -almost- make a noise at the sensation. 

“It's not the dress, love… It's who's wearing it.” 

A bit of silence passes within the both of you. 

“Shut the fuck up, Song Mingi.” 

Laughter fills the car and drowns out the honking on the other side of the street and you wonder why you were worried in the first place. 

Nothing has changed. 

Aside from the intention laced with the flirting, it feels the same way it ever did and you couldn't be more glad because now that you know Mingi doesn't hate you (like you thought for a brief moment last night) or wants to hard launch a relationship that doesn't exist to your friends the second he gets them all together in the same room, you can enjoy the car ride and the evening that's about to follow it.

So you flirt with him freely, listen and sing along to songs that just feel like summer summarized in three minutes of exquisite writing and roll your window down once Mingi takes a turn into a hill, trees replacing the buildings you're so used to seeing. 

Your friend is rich rich. His family makes good money and his parents go on lots of business trips. That being said, it's the first time you actually attend one of his parties, and so when you get to Yunho’s house and ring the doorbell, you’re caught by surprise because you can already hear the loud music playing in the backyard and the blend of new and familiar voices through the thick door. 

You expect him to open the door for you but Seonghwa’s smile is the first thing you see before you and Mingi both have the opportunity to step in. 

“You made it!” 

“It's pretty hard to miss this house, Hwa.” 

Your older friend side-hugs you and stays by your side while Mingi takes it upon himself to put your bags for the day in the pile of other bags next to the door “How are you doing today?” 

You're about to answer but when you look at him, you see him staring at Mingi, so you do too. He's staring at Hwa with a little smile “I'm doing good. I blocked her and everything and I can confidently say that…” he turns to you “My ego’s not bruised anymore.” 

If Seonghwa catches the spark between you and you best friend, he decides to ignore it “That's goo—” 

“Mingi!” 

What the hell is she doing here? 

Not, not that bitch from yesterday but this girl who Mingi meets with sometimes. You don't really know her, you just know she's gorgeous and that her name starts with an h, maybe? 

She's a fashion major and it shows in the way she's dressed up today. Truly, an enjoyable company whenever she's around at frat parties, a saving grace when you're tired of surrounding yourself with only men. 

Right now? She's your worst nightmare. 

Wrapping her arms around Mingi’s neck and getting on her tippy toes to kiss his cheek, she smiles like she knows she's getting laid tonight and your best friend does nothing to pull her away. 

She doesn't even say hi to you before dragging him to the backyard! You and Seonghwa follow them and when she takes Mingi’s arm and pulls him over to -you assume- introduce him to her friends, you almost stomp your feet like a little kid. 

Trying to get rid of the annoyed frown on your face, you turn to Hwa with a teasing smile and your eyebrows raised. 

“Well fuck me, am I right?” 

“I might!” Arms wrap around your waist and you feel Woo’s chin resting on your shoulder immediately after “That's a very nice dress, Y/N.” 

If Mingi was next to you, like you want him to be, you would give him a I told you so glance. Instead, you just look at Seonghwa with absolute horror before he snickers and goes away. 

“Right? And it looks horrible when it's drenched in nasty chlorine water.” 

“You can't possibly know that.” 

“I know a lot of things and— No! Woo, please don't,” you beg when he lifts you off the ground for a second. Behind you, you hear laughs and, even though you can't see them, you know it's San and Jongho “I just got here and I haven't even changed yet, please.” 

He turns you around and hugs you properly this time before letting you go. You take the opportunity to punch him in the arm and then go over to San and Jongho to do the same. 

“We'll let you get your swimsuit on this time.” 

“You're so considerate, Jong. Seriously, they're going to give you the Nobel prize if you don't stop.” He mocks you, repeating what you just said in a higher pitched voice and you laugh as you sit next to Wooyoung’s ex-girlfriend, Gyuri. 

San also has a girl sitting beside him with his arm around her, but you don't really know her so you just wave at her. They're all in their bathing suits already “See how he tried to flirt with me to try to get me with my guard down? He's a monster.” 

“And in front of me, too? The nerve on this guy.” Gyuri, of course, backs you up immediately and you want to return her smile, but you can see Mingi from the corner of your eye and it's distracting. 

“Oh, they're ganging up on me already,” Wooyoung whines, sitting down in front of you both and handing you a drink “It's like my worst nightmare.” 

“He's enjoying it, don't let him convince you otherwise,” San says, getting up from his seat and taking his girl with him “Especially coming from you.” He points at Gyuri and you laugh. 

“We're just friends now!” 

“That's what you told me like three years ago before—” 

Wooyoung gets up to chase after him and San lets go of the girl's hand to try to get away from him. 

Turns out, you're not the one Woo tackles into the pool. This time, him and San crash down on the water hard and a few droplets of water wet your feet. Gyuri laughs and everyone else does too when they realize what's happening. 

Jongho gets up and joins them in the water soon after to try and help (kinda, not really) San escape the wrath of his best friend. 

You almost miss it, because you take the opportunity to look at your best friend and, when you do, he's already looking at you. 

Breath catches on your throat and the lump that forms afterwards has a name and a reason: Mingi is looking at you with so much longing it physically hurts. 

He looks like wants to drop everything and come and confuse your fragile mind even more, just like he did the night before. 

Then why the fuck is he there with whatever her name is and her friends and not sitting right next to you? 

You look away, grasping your drink for emotional support and convincing yourself you're starting to see things that are not actually there. 

“Why the fuck are y'all fighting this time?!” Yunho comes from inside the house and it's the first time you see him today “No choking! No running! It's literally in the rules!” 

“Wooyoung please let go of my boyfriend!” 

Ah. So she is San’s girlfriend. Still, you turn to Gyuri to ask. 

“Who is sh—” 

“San’s new girlfriend, Kyungmi. We don't give a fuck about her or San right now, we're mad at them,” you want to ask who we is, because Wooyoung seems like he's just playing, but she interrupts you again “What the fuck is going on with you and Mingi?” 

Huh?! 

You make a quick mental review of your plan. Conceal? Clearly it didn't work. Bury your emotions deep so no one notices? You probably can't recover from the way you smile just dropped. 

The only thing left on the list is pretend that you're insane, but you're not sure it'll work either. So you turn it on her: “Nothing much. He played Espresso like three times on a row on the way here and I almost kill him, but—” 

“You can't bullshit me, Y/N.” 

Great, that didn't work either. 

“I saw that. Seonghwa did too but he got up before I could convince him to ambush you,” she dramatically sighs, chugging the rest of her drink down “So, what is going on?” 

“Nothing,” that much is true “he's literally with a girl right now.” 

“And she will never mean as much to him as you do. Next.” 

“Gyuri… I really don't know what you want me to say.” 

Squinting her eyes at you suspiciously, Gyuri takes her time before answering and you fidget in your seat a little. Wooyoung liked her for a reason, she's feisty and goes straight to the point and it's something you usually admire but right now it's not the time for her to do this. 

“I just thought maybe it finally happened…” She whispers and shrugs the entire conversation off before getting up “Let's head inside. They're going to start grilling meat at any second and I also don't want to be near Wooyoung when he gets out of there.” She points at him and you laugh. 

Jongho has him in a chokehold and Yunho is trying to separate them while San desperately swims towards his girl that's still waiting for him near the edge of the pool. 

“Sure thing.” 

You pretend you don't feel Mingi's eyes on you as you move. 

This is not unusual. Whenever you all go to parties, hosted by someone inside of the friend group or not, you end up separating from Mingi. 

He does his thing. He's outgoing and he likes dancing while you enjoy conversation and drinking away at the rest of the party, occasionally making out with someone and calling it a night when your social battery runs out. 

So you hang out with Gyuri in the kitchen until the sun starts going down and when the last ray of it disappears you decide it's time to swim a bit before you're too tipsy for it to be safe. 

Grabbing your bag and greeting some new people you don't know at the door, you head up to the bathroom you are told by the host himself it's upstairs. 

When you're tying up the strands of your swimsuit, the door slams open and you jump and cover yourself up with your hands because you're not able to finish the job, so the strands fall down and the only thing holding the top part of the fabric it's you. 

“What the fuck, Mingi?” 

Turning around, you're only able to look at him through the mirror. 

“Lock the door next time! What if it was somebody else?” 

“People usually knock!” 

“I didn't mean to scare you, it's the door’s fault,” he makes a fool of himself trying to prove it “See? I— let me help you with that,” he closes the door again and, this time, he locks it before taking a short step and grabbing the strands of your top “It's the second time this week I scare you like that, huh? I’m sorry, love.” He ties the strands together with a secure knot and his apology finally allows your tense muscles to relax. 

You remind yourself that there's no valid reason for you to be mad at him. You'll figure it out, he said it himself, and maybe today is not the day to do so. 

But he's not stepping away once he's finished, he's not even saying anything else before his hands grab your waist and his chest collides to your back. 

Looking at him through the mirror again, you silently ask him with your eyes what he thinks he's doing. He ignores you, bending down so the tip of his nose can trace the skin on the side of your neck. 

“I missed you,” his voice sounds like honey when he says it and you, once again, curse the ability he has to make you crumble “and you disappeared like an hour ago.” 

You let out a sigh. 

“I was in the kitchen, Mingi, not missing and we were in the same space for at least twenty minutes before that and like… forty minutes in a car, together.” You remind him and he frowns “Besides, you were with Ha… Haneul?” 

“Hanni,” he corrects and you huff out a whatever “and she was introducing me to some of her friends that are in the same major as me, just a year over.” 

“Cool.” 

He pecks your shoulder. You do your best to not melt completely into him and fix your hair in the mirror. 

“Y/N…” he starts and you hum in acknowledgement “I missed you.” 

It pisses you off for some reason. The mature thing to do is to let him know but the words that leave you are petty and laced with annoyance. 

“I’m sure you did, buddy.” 

He grins against your skin and you turn around to face him, eyebrow raising. 

“What's so amusing?” 

At your tone, he seems taken aback but his smile stays curving his lips upwards.

“I'm just really happy to have this moment with you,” he says, matter of factly, and you press your hands against his chest to regain some personal space. He doesn't budge an inch “What's going on?” 

He's such a guy sometimes. 

“You're here, kissing my neck, while a gorgeous girl who I'm sure is waiting for you downstairs is probably bragging to her friends about how she's going home with you tonight and—” 

“Y/N, I'm literally taking you home.” 

“I can easily take a car back— Mingi, seriously,” taking a deep breath, you stare at him with all the honesty you can gather “I don't want to do whatever this is if afterwards you're going downstairs to dance and flirt with Haneul or whatever her name is.” 

He looks like he wants to correct you on it again, so you level him with a daring glance. 

He keeps his mouth shut. 

“And I also don't want you to hurt her feelings if you tell her you can't leave with her tonight, so—” 

“I don't give a shit about her feelings, love.” 

“Mingi, don't say that!” 

“I don't! I wasn't flirting with her at all, either! Listen, it's…” he stops to chuckle for a few seconds “I mean, it's adorable that you're jealous but there's no reason for you to—” 

“Shut the fuck up, Song Mingi.” 

It's the second time today you have said those exact words to him. The first time, you also felt your heart bang with such force against your rib cage but for a completely different reason. 

“I'm not one of the girls you fuck on the side when you're horny or bored out of your mind. Don't fucking treat me like one.” You warn and suddenly the image of you telling him that teaching him yesterday could mess you both up crosses your mind.  

“I'm not, Y/N! I'm just saying that you look adorable when you're—” 

“Jealous? Why would I be jealous when we are not together, Mingi? I'm literally looking out for the girl!” 

“You don't even know her name, love.” 

“That's not the fucking point!” 

He finally takes a step away from you, closing his eyes and taking a calming breath, surely.

Now you're pissed off because he saw right through you and your words. 

That disgusting weight on your chest you felt back by the pool while you kept staring at him from the corner of your eye? Jealousy. 

Now that he brought it up, it makes sense. 

You hate it. 

You always hated being put in a position where you felt the need to compare yourself to others. Always hated how easy it is for anger to run through your blood and infiltrate every waking thought until it clouds your judgment. 

Because you shouldn't be angry. He just said he didn't care about her feelings. 

And yet, all you can think about is that he spent an hour with her instead of you. 

When he turns to you, there's a storm in his eyes and you just don't want to hear it tonight. 

“Save it, keep it, sleep on it and we'll talk tomorrow,” picking your dress from the spot on the floor it's been sitting all this time, you put the fabric on, take your bag and then unlock the door “I’m going home.” 

You don't give him the opportunity to say anything else before getting out of the bathroom but you do hear a groan when you're rushing downstairs. 

Yeosang and Yunho are just leaving the kitchen when you trip on the last step and the host jogs the few steps to you after laughing. 

“There you are, Y/N. Listen, there's some meat already grilled back there but we're—” 

“I'm actually going home, Yun,” you cut him short “I'm not feeling that well. My plan was to swim a little before leaving but I don't think I can do it.” 

“Did something happen or…?” 

What happened is coming downstairs as he asks. 

“Nope. Nothing, I just think I'm catching a cold or something. Thank you so much for inviting me though!” You hug your friend quickly, kissing his cheek before pulling away. 

“Always…” Yunho is very observant but, as you always do, he doesn't press you with questions about what's going on “He's taking you home?” Pointing behind you, you don't have to turn around to get what he means. 

“Ye—” 

“No. He's having a great time here, I don't want to get in the way,” you shrug “I'll just get an uber or something. Don't worry.” 

Yunho frowns slightly, eyes moving from your face to over your shoulder. 

Immature. Petty. Rude. 

You're sure that's the way you’re coming off right now. But feeling anger bubbling behind the smile you give Yunho, you think it's better they make their assumptions instead of actually seeing you upset. 

You move to hug Yeosang as well and he murmurs his farewell. When you turn around, Mingi is no longer there and you don’t spare a look towards the floor to ceiling glass windows that separate the living area from the backyard because you're sure he's sitting right beside that girl again. 

As he should be. 

You bolt for the door, giving your friends a tiny smile before going down the few steps and into the hill. It's already dark and you're sure no uber driver it's going up this hill for the tip you're able to offer them, so you figure your best shot is to go down and try to find a cab on the main street. 

The light from your phone illuminates your scowl as you walk. Past the bushes and the trees and the lines of parallel parked cars where Mingi’s Lexus is. 

You don't notice him there until he opens the backdoor to block your step. 

“Get in the car, I'm taking you home.” 

Closing the door he just opened to stop you, you shake your head. 

“I told you I'm getting a ride and—”

“I don't give a fuck. Get in the car.” And then he's opening his door and closing it so fast it gives you no room for debating. 

He's angry. Shit. 

You can't even see him through the tinted window to assess how much damage you have done, so you look down the hill one more time and wonder if making the run for it is worth it. 

When your phone lights up with a notification from Gyuri asking you if everything's okay and to make it home safe, you take it as a sign to round the car and get into the passenger side with an annoyed huff. 

The engine comes to life. You're not looking at him but at the trees until the leaves start showing the building lights in-between them and soon you're on the main road. 

You can't even ask him to turn the radio on. Stubborn, you refuse to let the anger inside of you dissipate in fear of shame taking over. It's better being angry than being ashamed, at least in this exact moment because you can practically feel Mingi's anger through the silent treatment. 

But you need to say something. The silence is suffocating and the street is surprisingly empty so you can't distract yourself with anything. 

“You shouldn't have bothered.” 

“I am bothered. You bothered me.” 

Clenching your jaw, you turn to him in disbelief “I told you to stay at the goddamn party so we can fix this tomorrow but I bothered you?”

“Did I stutter or something?” 

“No, you're just not making any fucking sense!” 

“Yeah, fuck this,” you see him look around, biting the inside of his cheek like he's holding his words in “We're fixing this right now.” 

The car makes a harsh turn and you have to grab the door for support. 

“Mingi!” He's not listening to you anymore. His hard gaze stays on the road, it feels like forever before he pulls into a somewhat empty parking lot and when the vehicle stops you go to open the door and get the fuck away from him before you two kill eachother inside this car. 

That's an exaggeration but with the way he turns off the car and unbuckles his seatbelt, you know your pride doesn't stand a chance. 

The summer breeze briefly hits your face before his hand is on yours, closing the door and preventing you from, once again, escaping the situation. 

Frustrated, you let out a loud groan “What the fuck is your problem?!” 

“I don't know, Y/N! But I'll tell you what your problem is, alright?” he chuckles. It's a humorless sound, his face painted in something you've never seen before “Your problem is that you assume you know what everyone else is feeling and you assume you're right. But intuition can only get you so far, love, so I need you to take your head out of your ass and think logically for a second.” 

Flabbergasted, you think you murmur something in your defense but he cuts you short. 

“No! You didn't let me get a word out back there so now you're going to shut up and listen,” he pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes “You assume you're smarter than everyone else but you're actually so dumb. Dumb, you're acting very dumb and reckless, Y/N! That back there?” he points out of the window to nothing but you know what he means “Leaving— Scratch that. Leaving me and not giving me a chance to say anything back? Trying to go down that hill alone and in the dark? Stupid.” 

Staring back at him with watery eyes, you don't even know what to say back except a whispered excuse me?

“And usually I would beat up anyone who even dares to call you that but I guess all these years I've been wrong about you. Because if you were smart, you would've realized that Hanni means nothing to me and I mean nothing to her. There's nothing, she loves appearances and that's it.” 

You knew that already, but you're not giving your stance up. 

What even is your stance? Ah, right, he treated you like an envious no one back there and not like his best friend.  

“Yeah, I can tell you mean nothing to her from the whiny tone and the hug and the dragging you to meet her friends, Mingi.” Scoffing at the memory, your lips press into a thin line. 

“Well, she's a friendly girl!” 

“She didn't even say hi to me!” 

“So she doesn't like you, Y/N! Who cares!” you sure don't but, again, you just stare at him in disbelief and his open arms, palms to the sky “Do you care? Because I don't! And guess what? I doesn't fucking matter if she likes you or not or if she wants me or not because I like you!” 

What? 

“W-what?” 

“I like you! And I'll choose you over her and everyone else again and again and again until you notice but fuck it's so tiring. You're so fixated on why I let her drag me to her friends that you completely ignored me the rest of the time we were there and maybe if you looked at me more than once you would've realized that I was staring back at you the whole afternoon!” 

You let out an annoyed chuckle “So you were, Mingi.” 

“I was! I was trying to get you to look at me and notice how bad I wanted you to come over, rescue me from that boring ass conversation, grab my hand and claim your place right beside me because—” he pauses, resting a hand on the steering wheel and looking at you like he can't believe he has to spell this out for you “Because I want nothing more than for her and everyone to know I’m yours! I'm sure everyone already fucking knows too, except you. So yeah, sometimes, you're pretty fucking dumb for such a smart woman, Y/N.” 

Words escape you. They escape your mind, your reason and your pride shrinks until it disappears behind all the love you feel for Mingi. 

So that's what you are feeling. That's what you felt yesterday night when the tiredness couldn't drown out your thoughts of him and all he meant to you. 

Love, love, love. In all its forms, in all its possible scenarios. Your heart burns for it and you used to think that your hopeless romantic desires began and died with the movies you tend to see and the books you tend to read, that it was impossible to feel this way for anyone but there he is, chest heaving in the yellow interior light, waiting for you to say something back. 

“And I realize that before yesterday I showed no interest in you but believe me when I say that I—” 

Shakily, you interrupt him with whispered words, heart soaring and hands reaching out to cup his beautiful face “Shut the fuck up, Song Mingi.” 

When you kiss him, you make sure to pour out everything you couldn't say a minute ago into it. 

When he kisses you back with the same feeling, it crosses your mind that he already forgave you. 

And when he grabs your waist and drags you over the break handle and the transmission to collide his chest against yours and drag his tongue along the seam of your bottom lip, you think that, for the first time ever, you have to tell him he's right. 

You are stupid. Stupid for not realizing it sooner, stupid for confusing his longing stares for something platonic, stupid for thinking you could wait until tomorrow to tell him he has the right to see and be with anyone he wants to because this is it. 

This. The way your entire body comes alive when he sighs into your mouth and groans at the way your knee opens up his legs to make room for you on his side of the car and partially on his lap. The way his thumbs run through your cheeks and dry the tears you didn't even feel falling down. The way your heart jumps frantically and the way its beats could get confused by his because you're so close. 

Suddenly and unexpectedly, you can't recall a time Mingi didn't make you feel this exact same way. It's overwhelming, it expands through you like a fire and it knocks the remaining air out of your lungs enough for you to pull away and rest your forehead against his, shaky breaths tangling together and fingers grasping the neck of his shirt in an attempt to ground yourself. 

You sniffle, incapable of not feeling emotional over his confession and your realization “I'm sorry, Mingi. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for treating you that way I was… I behaved like…” 

“An ass.” He nods and you look at him with the ghost of a smile tugging at your lips. 

“Yeah,” you nod as well “I was an ass. A jealous ass.” 

“I know, love.” He whispers, eyes moving on your face before his lips are on yours again, briefly, sweetly, even if you don't feel like you deserve it “You tend to forget that I know you, hm? That I've seen you jealous before? You were an ass back then, too.” 

“Okay! Okay, stop calling me an ass, I get it.” 

“I'm sorry for waiting for you to do something when you didn't even… I guess you didn't know, right? The way I feel about you?” 

“I know now,” you whisper back, nudging your nose against his and then putting some distance so you can see him better “I feel the same way, by the way. We're shit at communicating, apparently, so I'll just tell you now that—” 

His lips are on yours again and he's giggling against them and shaking his head when he pulls away. Brown eyes search for yours and you're not sure what he's looking in them but he seems to find it, his muscles relaxing against the leather of his seat seconds later. 

So you kiss him again. And again and again until your back starts hurting and the steering wheel is pressed uncomfortably against it, forcing you to shift on his hold. 

“Let me… Wait.” He lets you go to pull his seat back and then closes his legs, forcing your knee to fall on his other side so you can fully straddle his lap “That's better. Now come here.” And then he’s grabbing the back of your neck and stealing your breath away again with another kiss.

The tension shifts right then. When he can fully feel you pressing up against him and when a noise escapes you once his hands drop and give your bare legs the attention you didn't even know you were craving. 

You thought a second ago that the sweet kisses would stop once you were both sated with the sweet aftermath of all the yelling and confessing but now you don't want it to stop. 

There's a lot to catch up on, a lot of missed time you need to make up for. 

You still want to make him feel good. The sparks from yesterday come alive again and soon you're yanking the strands of dark hair with your fingers and letting your mouth explore the skin of his neck. When you sink your teeth into his skin, he lets out the same noise he did the night before and you smile against the mark you just made. 

His lips find your shoulder and he breathes hard into it once your hips start moving at their own accord, slowly yet firmly, the pad of his fingers digging hard on your thighs until you break away from his neck to focus on his face again. 

“This goddamn dress, love.” 

Humming, you caress his red cheek with your lips “What about it?” 

“Been thinking about it all day…” 

“It worked, by the way.” 

“Woo?” 

“Mhm. Distracted him so he didn't throw me in the pool right away.” 

“And Jongho?” 

“Probably plotting against me right now.” 

He laughs softly into your skin “Probably.” 

Chuckling as well, you stop your movements and take in how he looks. Gone, a little too fucked up from just making out, lips swollen and eyes clouded with something you're getting too familiar with, too quick. 

“Worked on you, too.” 

He smiles and shrugs, letting his head drop into the headrest “You look good in everything, love. It doesn't really matter what you wear.” 

“Oh?” 

A firm hand trails up your body, slowly, from you leg to your hip, your waist to the side of your breasts and your until it cops your face with affection you never imagined you would experience. 

“I have always thought you are the most beautiful girl to ever exist.” 

This is it. 

Leaning into his touch, your lips connect to the palm of the hand holding you before you lean forward again. 

“I love you, Mingi.” 

He doesn't seem surprised by your confession and you're glad he knows. It doesn't really matter if it's too soon, if you even mean it in a romantic way or not, the love you have for him transcends all labels. 

“I love you too, Y/N.”

And his does too. 

You kiss him until it hurts. 

He kisses you until you're gasping and your body is pleading for more. 

The both of you kiss each other until you're sure nothing else will replace the taste of one another, that it will linger forever even if your paths stop crossing at any point in time. 

It feels like you're trapped somewhere where the clock doesn't tick at all, where you can take your time exploring him with your mouth and your hands. 

And then it doesn't. 

The fabric of the dress starts bothering you, his tight shirt is suddenly not tight enough and the hardness steadily growing and pressing into your core is screaming for attention you can't give him with all these clothes on the way. 

He feels it too, fingers tracing the hem of your dress for the second time today and then they're under it, pulling at the fabric up until it bunches on your waist. 

You're still wearing the swimsuit he helped you put on earlier but it does little to conceal how affected you are. Looking down, you're not even ashamed of it when he follows your eyes and lets his linger on the patch of wetness darkening the color of the bottoms. 

Still, he moves his hands upwards again and soon you're struggling to get the dress off, considering you're almost bumping the roof of the car when you straighten your spine to do so. 

“Wanna know what crossed my mind when I saw you in the bathroom?” 

When it's finally off, he immediately goes for it: His index tracing your collarbone and slowly descending, his short nail dragging against your skin before the rest of his fingers join, right in between your breasts, where there's fabric holding together the top of the swimsuit. 

He could easily tug on it if he wanted to. Instead, he ignores it and presses the heel of his hand against it, forcing you to lean back and almost bump into the steering wheel again. 

Unable to speak and panting, you only nod as a reply to his question. 

“How easy it would be to get on my knees and eat you out. I thought: What if I just…” Using his other hand to mess with the knots that keep the left bottom part of the swimsuit together, he demonstrates what he means without actually doing it, his eyes following the motions “Undo these, get on my knees and make her come all over my face?” 

“Fuck, Mingi…” 

“You would like that, wouldn't you?” He smirks without actually looking at you, the hand on your sternum traveling down against your skin before joining the other one, teasing the knots on the right. 

“Y-yes.” 

Maybe he can see it on your face, the sudden nervousness at the scene he painted before you, because he grabs one of your hands and brings them to his lips before drawing you close again “Please tell me your idiot ex-boyfriend ate you out when you were together.” 

Blush darkening, you make a face that gives the answer away. 

He groans “He's worse than I thought, fuck. Come here.” And without any warning, the back of his seat goes down until it touches the backseat with it.

Bracing yourself against his chest, because you went down with him as well, you huff out a surprised laugh “Go where?” 

“Up here. Let me teach you something tonight.” 

“Mingi…” 

“First, you need to make sure your hands are clean—” 

“Stop,” laughing, you interrupt his bad attempt at teasing you with the same words you used on him yesterday “There's no real support for me if we do this, where do I even—” 

“Knees here,” he motions the backseat and you could actually do it, but you would have to sit on his face instead of hovering like you imagine it would be more comfortable for him “hands here” he points to the grab handle and the headrest of the passenger seat and then straightens his spine a little, bringing his face closer to you so he can whisper right into your worn out lips “Turn the light off, I'll do the rest.” 

He looks like he's going to kiss you but then he falls back onto the seat with an excited smile curving his lips. 

What a tease. 

So of course you turn off the light and prop yourself up into the position he wants to. It's challenging, the car is not that small but it feels like it is and you very much would rather do this on a bed, spare his back and yours in the process, but excitement also runs through your body and your brain stops making up excuses for why should deny yourself of the pleasure of Mingi using his mouth to make you see stars the second his fingers undo the knots and peel the bottom half of your swimsuit off your body with ease. 

Lips trailing up your inner thighs and hands on each side of them, holding you in a secure position, Mingi doesn't tease you much before attaching his mouth to your heat and your subconsciousness flies out the window when his tongue flicks your clit. 

You look down at him and the sight of him enjoying himself has you beaming, the warmth spreads through you and the zeroes on your pussy. You don't even try to quiet down your moans, completely forgetting that you're in a public parking lot that can fill up at any second. 

But paying no mind to it either, Mingi also moans encouragingly into your wet folds when your hips move a little, chasing that high. 

He shifts his focus to your entrance, his tongue working itself into you and when you move your hips again at the feeling, his nose bumps into your clit in a way that has you grasping the headrest for support, right hand slipping down and resting on the window while your mouth hangs open and your eyes shut close. 

“Mingi… Baby, fuck, I'll—” he adds his thumb into his ministrations, pressing it against your clit the way he did yesterday and it only takes a few side to side movements for you to come undone on his mouth. 

And again, the intensity of your orgasm takes you by surprise. It's obviously not as intense as yesterday's but it still got you trembling so you want to curse him out for being that good at what he does. 

He eases you into it, slowing his mouth and you only register that it leaves you completely when your thighs are being kissed tenderly. 

Breathless, you look down at him and catch his smile before his teeth are sinking into your skin and forcing you to hiss out a laugh “Good?” 

“Yeah,” you smile, climbing down from your position and hovering over his lap in an attempt to not ruin his jeans. It's very obvious he enjoyed it too, his crotch holding the evidence tight and probably painfully against the fabric there “Really, really good.” 

You want to get on your knees and return the favor, make him squirm in pleasure, but the space is not working in your favor. So even though your thighs are hurting and sweat is dripping down your neck, you start working on the button and zipper of his jeans before he sits up.

He wants to say something, but your tongue is touching his and tasting yourself on it before he gets the chance. Clumsily, a little too far gone for your liking as well, you are able to get through the layers of clothes and let your hand hang over his dick “Are you gonna make me beg for it today?” 

“You don't have to, love.” 

“Beg?” you ask with a smile that he reciprocates “Or touch you?” your free hand brushes the hair out of his face, sliding down until you're propping his chin up with it, thumb tracing his bottom lip softly “Because I want to touch you. I want to make you feel so, so good, baby. Please.” 

He kisses the pad of your thumb and then takes it into his mouth, tongue caressing the tip of it until you're panting again and then nods. 

That's all the permission you need before taking him with your hand and pulling him out of his boxers. Taking your hand out briefly, you gather up saliva and spit right into it. 

Mingi lets out a noise at that. Interesting. 

Starting slow, you focus on his expression. Testing the waters, taking note of what he likes because, unlike him, you probably pushed to the corner of your mind every sexual conversation you two had before yesterday. You take a second to look down at it, the size is no surprise but your mouth waters at the image of you taking him into the heat of it. 

Maybe another time. For now, you focus on making him feel good with the little you can offer him in the enclosed space of his car. 

He mouths at your neck, choked up sobs vibrate through the skin on your collarbone and your top gets moved to the side so he can mark the side of your boobs as he pleases. It sets the fire inside of you alive again, your folds getting wetter when he rolls his tongue around your nipple and then throws his head back when you twist your hand in a motion he seems to really enjoy.

“Just like that, love.” 

To your delight, he's not quiet. He's loud, he's grabby, taking the opportunity to hold onto your ass and press down on the skin when you tease his slit and gather his precum on your fingers so you can spread it around his cock and your hand can slide easier. 

Movements get sloppy once he's close, he's no longer paying attention to you and you welcome it as a great sign, his hips bucking into your hand and he moves you forward until you're sitting on his lap again. 

The only thing preventing your pussy and his dick from touching is your hand. 

You glance at him and he looks back, probably the same idea popping up into his mind so you nod once.

The car moves as you two move around, to the back seat, the spine of his seat up and the entire thing moving forward to make space for him next to you, over you, on top of you once he kicks his jeans and boxers off to the floor. 

You reach out to him in a silent plea and he bends down to kiss you soft and moist and hot and breathy, sensually, with sweet sounds escaping both of you when you reach under his shirt and lift it up until he gets what you want. Discarding it with the rest of his clothes, your top follows it and the contentment you feel when his naked chest touches yours is unmeasurable. 

There's no real room to move around and there's not really any patience left within both of you, so when he apologizes when he moves his hips where he shouldn't and his tip brushes your entrance, you pull back from his bruising mouth. 

“Condom. Now.” 

He obliges right away, searching on his jeans for a minute or so and when he comes back he's smirking like he can't believe you “When I told you we needed to raincheck I didn't mean it to be like this. Bossy.” 

Even if you're punching him on his chest and giggling at his breathy words, you take the teasing with pride “You started it, Mingi!” 

Putting the condom on skilled and fast, he's soon resting his forehead against yours and kissing you softly again “I wanted you on my bed…” his lips trail down and the giggles die on your throat as he's kissing it, a moan escaping you “On your back or knees or riding me…” he continues in a whisper going down and down and down, giving your nipples attention before going back up and taking your mouth in his again “Making a mess on my cock…” 

He takes the opportunity to enter you slowly and you gasp at the stretch, wet enough so it doesn't hurt you but you're unfamiliar with him, with his size splitting you open deliciously. 

“F-fuck, Y/N.” Mingi leans back to watch you take him in and you whine again. Tilting your head back, you let him work himself in and you moan loudly when he almost bottoms out “Look at you…” 

You don't. You can't. He's pressing his thumb on your clit again to ease you through the stretch and it makes the heat pool in your belly like you didn't come in his mouth a few minutes ago. 

Slowly but surely it gets easier for him to rock his hips into you, mouth parting in pleasure when you remind yourself to look at him. His abdomen tenses when you run your nails against the skin there, softly, until you're detouring them into his back and sinking them in just enough to have him whining at the feeling. 

“Baby… Harder.” 

“Yeah?” 

Hips bucking up to meet his at a particularly hard trust, you reach up to him so he can rest his body weight on yours. Close like this, with the pace picking up, the knot on your lower half tightens and threatens to break. 

“You take me so well, love. Fuck, always knew you would,” you know he can feel your walls tightening around him at the praise, because he smiles and kisses you once before continuing “My pretty, pretty girl… Taking my cock so well…” he punctuates his words with the roll of his hips and you cry out, holding his face in between your hands, his eyes never leaving yours. 

In this position, his lower abdomen bumps into your clit and it's soon tipping you over the edge. 

“So good, so good, oh— Oh, God.” You're mumbling incoherently while Mingi keeps whispering sweet nothings and then the tension on your belly breaks. It takes three seconds of your walls pulsating around him for him to groan loudly into your mouth and come undone as well. 

The only thing you can hear is breathing, all you can feel is breathing. His against your chin, yours blowing on his hair when you rest your cheek on his temple. 

It takes a second to gather yourself again and when you do, you tilt your head back to give him a chaste kiss that he returns. 

“That was so good, baby.” You tell him and he smiles, nodding in agreement “I am sticking to the fucking seat though.” 

Mingi snorts and just like that the energy shifts back to the usual you. Only this time, you come back to it knowing that no one’s ever going to have you the way he does. 

He slips out of you, doing his thing with the condom and you sit up, looking through the windows and becoming aware of your surroundings for the first time since you got there. 

There's a car parked far away from you that's empty and the rest of the cars that were near it have left. You wonder how long this all took, because you lost track of time the second he told you he likes you. 

Chest still heaving and boxers now on, Mingi rests his back on the door and takes your hand in his “Is it dumb of me to assume you're my girlfriend now, love?” 

“Is it dumb that I assumed that's what I was when you said you like me?” 

“No,” he answers right away “not dumb at all.” 

Smiling, you nod “Then I'm your girlfriend, Mingi.” 

He beams at that and then he's crowding you again “Say it again.” 

“I'm your girlfriend.” you repeat, enunciating each word and giggling when he nuzzles his nose into the crimson on your cheek “I’m yours, baby.” 

Resting his forehead against yours, he hums in contempt “Good, because I've always been yours too.” 

“There's no way! You two... together? Guys… See, that would be me if I didn't see it coming but I'm smarter and cooler than everyone here so I did.” 

Wooyoung's over the top reaction has Mingi throwing his head back in a silent laugh and you staring at the black haired guy, unamused and a little offended. 

It's two days later and, as usual, you're at Wooyoung's and San’s apartment hanging out. 

After putting your clothes back on and going for some well deserved food, Mingi took you home, kissed you goodnight and showed up the next day after class to break the news to your parents. 

Your mom almost cried. Your dad too, but for a completely different reason. 

In the end, they both agreed they saw it coming and when you told Mingi’s parents, they said the same thing and invited yours to have celebratory dinner without you. 

What happened in Mingi’s room after was worth missing dinner anyways. 

Mingi and you decided to break the news when most of the group showed up for movie night and you were nervous to see their reactions. 

But everyone seems unaffected by it. 

“I knew you guys liked each other the second I met you. Ask Gyuri, she agrees with me.” 

“Sadly, I do.” Wooyoung's ex looks at you from her spot by the door, where she's getting her shoes on. 

She winks at you and you fake a gasp, falling into your boyfriend's lap with an annoyed huff. 

“And no one told us?!” 

“Sorry, Y/N. We didn't want to get in the way.” Hwa is apologetic and Yeosang nods alongside Hongjoong but you gape at them like they betrayed your trust. 

“To be fair we didn't know till’ last week, love.” 

“She didn't know.” Gyuri corrects him and now you turn to her to give her the betrayed look “You were pining over it for six months already.” 

“I say it was more like nine but…” Hwa shrugs and sips his cup, giving the man holding you close a knowing smile. 

Oh, they definitely talked about it, huh? 

“Nine months and no one cared to fill me in, huh?” 

“I’m sure Mingi did—” 

“Wooyoung!” 

“Well I didn't notice.” Yunho interferes with a shrug and gives you a recomforting smile that doesn't work at all. 

San laughs “That's because you're a puppy that can't even tell when someone likes you.” 

“Am not!” 

Everyone, including you and Mingi, make a noise in agreement with San.  

“You're one to talk, though, leave the puppy alone.” Gyuri tells her ex's best friend and Wooyoung laughs at him when his smile drops. 

There's some story there you don't know. 

“Guys… Does someone like me right now? Be honest.” 

Yeosang is about to tell him something but Jongho interrupts. 

“Enough with the love talk! Can we start the movie?” But he's pressing play already, so the answer doesn't really matter. 

Gyuri laughs once and Wooyoung makes his way over to her to give her a hug that she enjoys for one second tops before pushing him away. 

“Enjoy everyone! I'm so happy for you two, by the way, not that these neanderthals would tell you to your face but I'm sure they're too.” 

“Thank you, Gyuri.” Mingi murmurs from behind you and you mouth a thank you as well before she leaves for the night. 

Something about her best friend having a boy crisis. 

You don't miss the way San’s eyes follow her until she leaves or the way he looks at Woo, something clearly worrying him. 

His best friend ignores him, though, so you confirm that might just be a little pissed off at him after all. 

“Tell her to text you what happens.” San asks Woo once she leaves and he rolls his eyes. 

“Mhm. I’ll tell her to stop calling us neanderthals too.” 

You smile “Well, she's right.” 

“Nuh-uh!” 

Jongho has to stop the movie and you see him sulk while everyone else is arguing. Some of them, like Hwa and Yeo, are siding with you and Gyuri. And the rest of them, like your boyfriend, are telling them off. 

When you turn to face him, his argument dies mid-sentence because he stops to smile at you. He takes your face in his hand and kisses you for the first time ever in front of everyone else. The group stops the argument to tease you both and you laugh into his mouth. 

A cushion is thrown at you and Jongho gets up to separate your faces before sitting beside you with a pout on his lips. 

“Can we watch the goddamn movie?!” 

You're the happiest you've ever been.

If you read all the way down here: THANK YOU SO MUCH. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated!

© jensthwa, 2024.

[kkentobox]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀his tender loving! w/ jschlatt.

description: having a loud online persona, most assume your new york man is a hassle to keep around. there was no need to prove them otherwise, his gentle love was all yours.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀tags: fluff! sappy & soft schlatt, female reader!

authors note: i fell back in love with him after not watching his content for a good year, so i couldn’t help myself ^_^ reblogs & likes are always appreciated <3

⠀⠀recording days always amused you. you had very little information of who jay was before you had begun dating, so anytime you were in his home while he was recording; it surprised you. he was known to be very loud, cocky of who he was and how much he made. his charming humor would remain, but everything else always made you want to witness the scene up close.

with his booming laughter echoing the halls, you found comfort in the noise from your place in the living room. mindlessly scrolling through your phone while you patiently waited for his recording to end. quietness began to seep through the house, ultimately letting you know he had finally wrapped everything up. being under the same roof yet being separated for hours, excitement began to bubble in you as you awaited for him to find you.

as you predicted, jay had found you on the couch wearing nothing but shorts that left nothing to the imagination and one of his many sweaters. “you finished early, should i be expecting a good check soon?” you smiled through your teasing question as your arms opened up, needing him to lay on top of you to feel his warmth. “mhm, we’ll be getting you a yacht for the summer in no time, baby.”

having found his way into your arms, jay wasted no time in placing his warm hands underneath the sweater to hold onto your waist. his face snuggling into your neck, soft giggles could be heard from you as his facial hair tickled the sensitive skin causing him to chuckle in return. with your fingers twirling the ends of his hair, “you should keep cutting your hair like this. .” a whisper broke through. humming against your neck, “yeah? why’s that?” his tender voice being reserved just for you, he leaned his head back just enough to look at your face. his eyes gently tracing the features your face holds, features he’s grown to love oh so dearly. from the little crinkles of your eyes when you smile to the way your nose twitches when he can’t resist placing a kiss on it. “you have little curls in the front when you keep it this length, i like em’.”

and with that reasoning alone, he knew he would keep his hair like this forever. “i’ll do it just for you.” planting a kiss to your jaw led to many aggressive kisses being planted everywhere. people called it cuteness aggression, you were a victim of this every day, not that you minded. tugging on his hair just hard enough eventually made him stop, “you have a real problem with that, mister.” though the big dopey smile on your face gave away your true intention, “have no clue what you’re talking bout’.” he would grin right back at you. scratching the facial hair on his cheeks, you looked up at him with the biggest eyes. deciding to place one more tiny kiss on your lips, he leaned down only to linger a few moments more. “you’re going to be the death of me someday, toots.” “hoping it’s soon, your christmas album money is looking real good right now.” giggling together once more, it was always a comfort being yours.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ do not steal or plagiarize any work belonging to kkentobox !

[visenyaism]

Stuff about American election night that you should know:

We’re one week out! Crazy. So I know too much about US politics because I explain this for money, so I figured it might be helpful to talk a bit about what we should expect from election night. If you're not American, are new to our insane election system, or are anxious about what's happening next week, here's the deal with next Tuesday:

1. Most important thing: Do NOT expect to know the winner on election night. Different states have different laws about when they can start counting early/mail-in votes, which often slows down reporting time.

2020 took until the Saturday after to call because of the high mail-in vote count due to Covid, and while that isn't happening this time, it'll take longer than 2016, 2012, or 2008 because the polls are predicting that this one's going to be a lot closer than those. Consider just going to bed instead of staying up for the results.

2. Because of the Electoral College, popular vote doesn't matter as much as who wins each individual state does. Every state has a certain amount of electoral votes based on population, whoever wins a state gets all their votes, whoever gets to 270/538 wins. We know how most states are going to vote. The Electoral College puts the election in the hands of 7 "swing" states that could go either way. This time, that's Pennsylvania, Georgia, North Carolina, Michigan, Wisconsin, Arizona, and Nevada. These are the states to watch. Here's the map:

3. No one will know anything until polls close and states start reporting results. Doomscrolling is kind of pointless anyways, but it's especially pointless before 7pm. here's a map of closure times:

4. Data will shift throughout the night. Rural counties report results first because fewer people live there. This means the earlier you check, the more conservative the state maps might look. Do not look at the election results for any state with less than 90% reporting and freak out, especially if the state hasn't been called (deemed mathematically impossible for the other candidate to win) by multiple news outlets.

5. Voter fraud happens way less than you think it does. Pretty much never, actually. One study claims you're more likely to get struck by lightning than you are to witness actual, impersonation-based voter fraud in a modern US election. Be extremely skeptical of any voter fraud claims you might see.

6. Avoid getting news from social media accounts that aren't news outlets. There's a lot of disinformation out there, especially as AI/Deepfake tech is getting worse. Fact-check everything you might see. Anyone can make a destiel meme about the election. make sure it's true before you reblog it.

7. The electoral college sucks shit and does allow for a 269-269 vote tie. In this case, it goes to the House of Representatives, who are majority-Republican and will pick Trump. Some states might be within 1% (like 49.3%-49.7%) and candidates can demand recounts, which might delay official results by weeks or months. It HAS to be over by mid- December when the Electoral College officially votes.

8. take care of yourselves. if we're not going to know on election night, you may as well power down your phone and go to bed at a reasonable hour.

[lucyandthepen]

sweet cream, cold brew | lmh ( m )

something about mark lee keeps you up at night, and you’re pretty sure that it isn’t the lingering smell of espresso on his shirt.

alternatively: mark is shy until he isn’t.

read the second part here!

pairing: nerd!barista!mark x reader verse: college au rating: r ( minors, do not interact! ) warnings&tags: unprotected sex, oral (f!receiving), fingering, slightly possessive/jealous dialogue, mark has a thing for tummy bulges because why not, implicitly that also means he has a big dick, a slight???? exhibitionism kink (not actually something that happens, only talked about), johnny exists in this simply to trigger something vaguely feral in mark, reader is a little bit assertive and schemes to get mark's attention, jaehyun is a nosy lil eavesdropper, i think that should be it?? word count: 26.4k

a/n: hello so this was a mess and honestly not a fic i would say showcases my best plot-wise but… what can I say apart from booty wurk mark has me in a chokehold and I needed to release some thoughts and feelings !!! please do not expect too much from the development of the story; i fear it’s quite long and choppy because my ideas were all over the place and i was wringing my hands and brain constantly and i was eager to get to the spicy parts !! this is also not beta’d/proofread, it’s currently almost 1am, and i’ve been writing this on and off for a full week with very few breaks so it honestly felt like a fever dream for me LMAO please forgive any oversights and mistakes; i’ll try to go back on them another day and fix them little by little! finally and …most importantly belated happy birthday, my beloved morkly!

p.s. this will probably be flagged as ‘mature’ by tumblr, which means there’s a high likelihood it won’t appear in tags or searches. please consider reblogging to boost the fic, if you feel so inclined!

You’ve heard tell of how caffeine has inherently addictive properties. 

The more of it you have in your lifetime, the more likely you are to experience symptoms of withdrawal whenever you try to have orange juice for breakfast in its stead. It sounds bad, actually, considering most addictive substances are, but you suppose that its benefits somehow outweigh its milder drawbacks. You’re not much of a coffee connoisseur the way some people — see: your best friends, Yeji and Jisu — are, trying one cafe after the other in pursuit of being able to nominate the winning beans of 2023 (an annual heated debate they participate in for no better reason than their own slow and useless entertainment during their six-hour long breaks), but you do know you’ve only ever experienced good things from having a cup every so often: better energy, a more focused approach to mental activities, and the ability to drive through fifty percent of a road trip without needing pop punk music blasting out of your speakers to keep yourself alert. 

The three of you are generally particular about the coffee you drink, only in different ways. While your friends have a tendency to demand only the best from any establishment — lest the staff hear fiery commentary about the flatness of the brew or the evident coarseness of the grind — you, on the other hand, are a singular individual of rather simple tastes. All you need to survive long days is a glass of vanilla sweet cream cold brew. No modifications to the sugar level or fancy new milk types are necessary; you’ll drink it as it’s served in a grande cup (or a venti, when things prove particularly grueling). 

Of course, you’re strict about other things in the experience of consumption —  like where it’s served and, more importantly, who serves it to you. 

While Yeji and Jisu have rated the Liberal Arts building’s on-campus Starbucks branch as a five with the strict label of POEO — ‘passable on emergencies only’ — branding the menu as “nothing revolutionary” and criticizing most baristas for subpar brewery, you happen to be extremely drawn to the place. Initially, you may have argued that this has to do with the fact that it’s walking distance from most of your classes, confined to the same general compound on campus, so you can always grab a quick recharger whenever needed, no matter how short the timeframe to do so is. Sometime later on, you may have found yourself asserting that the layout of the cafe, albeit small, is very convenient, considering that every table is situated next to an electrical outlet, so you’re never out of battery (important to other students for their laptops and powerpoint presentations, important to you because you have an unhealthy obsession with passing time on TikTok, scrolling past video after video of ASMR girls clicking their twenty-inch long acrylics with their crazy candyland designs), and this makes you feel at ease. 

A month ago, you finally came clean to yourself and, soon after, to your friends, and they came to understand, albeit begrudgingly and with no small amount of amusement, what made this Starbucks unbeatable in your eyes; it had one thing no other coffee shop could lay claim to.

What you know of Mark Lee is accrued from two major sources: long, surreptitious glances in the Modern World History class you share, and irritatingly brief interactions when you place your order from the other side of the counter behind which he stands, long fingers always poised to punch in your order at the speed of light. Sometimes, those encounters get cut even shorter when irate upperclassmen start prattling their orders out before you can even say anything past your own, except even this has its own consolation prize — an apologetic smile at you that seems only for you, although you’re not sure how much of this assumption is true. You’ll just believe it as you feel it. 

And what you’ve learned about Mark Lee has funneled down into two key points for you: first, he is single, a fact you were clued into when a group of his friends came to the coffee shop and sat around the table next to you. You hadn’t been eavesdropping; they’d just been pretty loud, but you’d also perked your ears the moment the one everyone seemed to call “Hyuck” — you aren’t sure if it’s his full name or a nickname, and you don’t particularly care — had leaned in for a conspiratorial whisper about having a vague master plan to set Mark up with an old high school friend’s younger sister that he was just waiting to spring on said Mark, busy slaving away on their six impossible orders near the espresso machine. 

You don’t really know what became of that plan, nor if anyone had telepathically been on your side to outright call it crazy (someone should have had a better reason than you, anyway) since the next moment, Hyuck’s voice becomes significantly louder when it orders the one named Jisung to collect the completed coffee and snacks waiting for them on the counter. However, you feel safe in the assumption that even if it had happened, no repercussions had followed, seeing as Mark still presently comes and goes from his shifts alone and in no clear hurry to meet any cute girls that are sisters of high school friends of his friends. Or, maybe you’re just ignoring what could be truth, but that’s whatever. 

Second, you’ve learned that Mark Lee should not actually be your type — at least, in theory. 

Saying you’re out of his league would be a bit juvenile, but if you had only so many words to describe the situation, you’d say so under duress. It isn’t so much that he’s beneath you in any way, but your interests and general social circles run different routes. Yours tend to be more classically patterned after constantly changing trends, and the people you interact with all seem to have similar goals; you like to call it ‘vibe networking,’ which, from experience, involves connecting with both groups and individuals that are equally aware that they will benefit in some way from any resulting acquaintanceship — whether it be by climbing the social ladder a couple of rungs or being able to call in a quick, off-the-charts favor for something very important and/or very exclusive down the road. You and your friends spend a significant amount of time in a year watching your style and image, something quite a lot of kids in the first couple of years of college tend to do, which means that while you don’t particularly like to spend your time following your grade trajectory, you do have quite a lot of pseudo-friends that all seem to offer something entertaining or helpful to you. 

Mark, on the contrast, prefers to keep his circle very close to his heart, it seems — that which acts as a receptacle for all his interests. You can tell that he likes to be up to date less with trending movies and more with comic books, a separate beast of a world that’s rather unknown to you. More than once, you’ve overheard him chat with his friends about Spider-man Issue Number Whatever-It-Is or engage in somewhat lively (sometimes rowdy, thanks to the Hyuck fellow) discussions about some webtoon you’ve come to understand is called Solo Leveling, which seems to have to do with monsters and hunters — two things you know next to nothing about. You’ve also never seen Mark holding anything remotely close to a magazine; his hands are always filled with either a freshly opened comic or a beat-up textbook. Maybe once or twice, you’ve seen him on his phone, but when you peeked over (surreptitiously, of course) on those occasions, you were met only with brightly colored panels and a singular word: BAM. 

In conclusion — you and Mark Lee live very different lives, likely never truly meant to intersect. 

And yet, you want him — not even in a way that speaks only to your curiosity, but in a manner that feels slightly delusional. More than once, you’ve found yourself having to shut your jaw close after realizing you’ve been watching him steam milk with your mouth slightly agape. Maybe it’s his side profile, which gives you a great view of the way his jaw tenses every time he puts whipped cream on someone’s frappuccino. Maybe it’s his eyes, which always seem to twinkle like he’s harboring some special secret every time someone in line asks for his recommendation on how to spice their order up. Maybe it’s his hands, steady and agile, with just the right showing of veins through the skin to tell you they’ve probably got significant strength to them too. Or maybe it’s just his mind — that thing he always manages to show off in class, working faster than lightning even when the rest of you are in your natural eight-in-the-morning stupor.

Whatever the reason for your interest, Mark Lee makes sure the Liberal Arts building’s Starbucks has you as a regular customer. 

You’re fully aware that this is the twenty-first century, which is why you could, as Yeji and Jisu have so kindly made known, simply ask him out. Under normal circumstances, you would have.

Unfortunately, in this particular area of your life, separate from all others, you’re something of a traditionalist. 

Actually, you just want to know what Mark asking you out would look like. Curiosity has fully gotten the better of you — how can it not, with how he breaks eye contact with you the moment it happens by accident in class, or with how pleasantly and shyly he smiles when you say ‘hey’ to him once you’re about to order? You’d like to see, first-hand, as a recipient of the experience itself, what he would look like taking control of a particular situation like that — something someone like him, so mild-mannered and laid-back, never really seemed to do upfront. 

You’d like to think you’ve given him clear signs. There’s a reason you always come in during his shift times, and it’s the same reason for why you have the same damn drink from the menu over and over again despite not even caring too much about coffee in the first place (something he admittedly doesn’t know and probably wouldn’t puzzle out, given how often you’re in that Starbucks, anyway). It’s that you want him to remember you.

Selfishly, it’s that you want him to think just a little bit more about you every single day. 

But if he does, Mark has never made it very clearly known; apart from taking your order in his genial customer service demeanor or letting a look of brief recognition pass his face over when you cross paths in the hallways, he’s never really shown heightened inquisitiveness about you. For all your differences, only you seem to actually care.

Frankly, that frustrates you, because if you have to think about him unhealthily, it would only be right for him to do that for your sake too. Still, you’ll shrug that hit on your pride off for as long as you can get his attention one way or another.

All you really need is for your plan to pan out as well as you think — and hope — it will. 

The thing is, you’re not even that bad at math. You’ve never really excelled at it, of course, but you wouldn’t go so far as to say you’re in dire need of help from anyone — the kind of help that feels like babysitting, at least.

However, Mark Lee doesn’t know that, and you’re not compelled to make that fact known to him when you notice that he’s leaning on the counter with his elbows, shoulders rolled forward and head bent down. He’s twirling his ballpoint in hand, wrist hovering over a worksheet, and you’re briefly distracted by the rapidly moving shadow underneath it.

His head snaps up when you gently knock on the counter, and the rest of his body follows suit, straightening as he shoves the paper away, one edge crumpling in on itself as it meets resistance in the form of the pastry display glass.

“Hey — hi, _________.” He knows your name, says it easily, and while you’d like to believe it’s because of his unprecedented interest in you, you know that it’s just because you’re always here and always having him write your name on the side of your cup. “Can I get you the usual?”

There’s no particular reason you order what you do; maybe it’s just rooted in the fact that when you first asked Mark for a recommendation, he said that the Vanilla Sweet Cream Cold Brew was pretty good, and you were inclined to believe him (while pointedly ignoring the fact that it was, at the time, a new item all of the baristas were required to push to indecisive, slightly moony-eyed customers such as yourself). Whatever the case, you found the drink generally palatable, and you were also able to score the first of many smiles that fed into your two-semester-long infatuation with him, so it was basically a win-win scenario for all. He even got to do his job by getting some rube (see: you) into trying a new product.

“Hey, Mark.” You’ve long since given up pretending that you don’t know his name and have to check the tag on his cute green apron (why is it cute? You don’t know. It’s the same, standard, Starbucks green, but Mark makes it look homely and natural, somehow). You’ve been here way too many times over the last academic year for a nonchalant, were you talking to me? approach to work, anyway. “That, plus a lemon loaf, if you don’t mind. What’ve you got there?”

His eyes follow the trail of yours over to his wrinkled worksheet. “Oh — no, sorry. It’s nothing.”

“Is it secret?” Your bottom lip juts out, and you see his Adam’s apple bob dangerously, a small telltale sign of minute nervousness before he lets out a short laugh. “Didn’t know we kept stuff from each other.”

You don’t know what makes you say that so naturally. The both of you don’t do much beyond exchanging pleasantries.

“We — uh, well, it’s just a worksheet. For Park Hyosung’s class. College algebra?”

“I’m in Kim Junghwa’s. Can I have a look? I want to know if you’re suffering just as much as I am.”

He pauses, considering your request for a moment, likely wondering if there’s any harm in it before he smooths the paper out and turns it towards you. His handwriting’s a little messy, but his solutions are extremely neat. You see, like, one erasure, max. You also don’t see anything that interests you — except the name written at the top. Still, you can see at a general glance that more than half of his answers are correct; the logic of his organization is way too elegant and his writing’s too sure to be anything else. You whistle low, and his eyebrows shoot up.

“Something wrong?”

“Pretty much the opposite. How is it that you’re doing this without breaking a sweat?”

“Oh, well — it’s not…” He doesn’t even know how to brag. Yet another item in the perpetually growing list of things you find cute about Mark Lee. “I mean, anyone… can?”

“I must not be anyone then.” You meet his quizzical look with a wry smile. “Either you guys are leaps and bounds ahead, or I’m really not going to make it through this semester.”

Another silence passes, just for a fraction of a second — short enough to be passable to others, but long enough for you to wonder if your humor code isn’t up to par with the rest of the world’s — before Mark’s chuckling lowly. His large palm comes down, covering a majority of his answers in the process.

“You’re kidding. I’m sure you’re doing just fine.”

“Mark, look at this face.” You gesture to your evidently dumbfounded, blank expression. “Does this look like the face of someone that’s doing just fine?”

You’re pleased to hear another laugh from him; you don’t know if he really finds you funny or if he’s just the type to be easily amused. You don’t want to know, anyway; assuming is better than actually finding out.

“That bad, huh?” He slides the worksheet away again, like he’s afraid his correct answers are going to offend you into leaving the cafe. Instead, his hands start working on your order, grabbing a cup and scrawling the shorthand of the drink on one of the little boxes. “Ever think about getting a tutor, maybe? If you really feel like you’re drowning, that is.”

“A tutor? I guess that depends. Are you free on weeknights?”

The marker makes a soft screeching sound as he drags it down with too much force, ruining the penmanship of your name. Mark takes a moment to stare at the mistake on the plastic before he looks at you, pointing the rim of the cup towards himself. “Sorry — am I free—?”

“You said I should get a tutor, right?”

“I thought — no, sorry, I was thinking more like one of those department-assigned tutors you can ask the faculty for, or something.”

“Oh. Are you not one of them?” You sigh, albeit a little over dramatically. Thankfully, he doesn’t really cotton onto your acting, too caught up in befuddlement at the turn of the conversation. “That’s a bummer. I was kinda hoping that if I was going to ask for help, I’d get an actual genius. You know — someone like you?”

You can tell by Mark’s expression that he’s torn between denying your compliment again and responding to your actual question; he looks both relieved and miffed when the student behind you clears her throat.

“Sorry, but— you know that there’s a line, right?”

You both apologize, Mark’s much more sincere than your own, and you step aside. His gaze follows you for a moment before it snaps back to the next customer, his voice abandoning that bemused uncertainty it had taken up with you. You don’t really mind; as far as you’re concerned, any dent in his barista persona when he talks to you is a step in the right direction.

You hang around the pick-up area, receipt in hand, watching Mark clear the line before moving to the actual stations near the kitchen area. There’s a concentration on his face that you find all the more attractive; he has a habit of chewing on his bottom lip when he’s trying to focus on getting the drizzle just right inside the cup’s cylinder.

He tends to try his best at everything, you figure. Not an unattractive quality — not by a long shot.

Mark finishes your drink first; the milk’s still only seeping, cloudy, into the coffee when he brings it over. He doesn’t even have to call your queue number, opting to meet your eye — albeit slightly nervously — instead. You reach out to hold the cup, a calculated move that allows you to brush hands against his without him being able to pull back on instinct. He doesn’t, nor does he really seem to want to, but his jaw tightens as a flush creeps along the curve of his ears.

“You really won’t help me?”

Your question’s abrupt, almost a little demanding, even if your voice is sweet. You’re not above asking this much, anyway, even if you technically want him to make the first move. The redness sinks down to his earlobes.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t really say anything,” you tease. The cup’s on the counter now, so he can easily relinquish it to you at this point, but he still hesitates, only one hand slipping out from under the heat of your palm. He uses it to rub the back of his neck, chuckling softly, and you take this as a green light. “What time does your shift end?”

“Five-thirty. You sure you wouldn’t want someone better?”

You pull your cup slowly to yourself, and his hand, still lightly trapped by your own, follows for a few inches before he’s withdrawing, the counter between the two of you forcing the distance. A smile follows the shaking of your head, and you take a small sip of the drink before you respond simply.

“There’s no one better than you.”

Mark is a prompt kind of person; you learn this when, at five-thirty, he comes over to your table, tugging his apron off over his head. Of course, you might attribute that to his overall personality, but the fact that you spend the remaining two hours of his shift casting him glances from the left side of the coffee shop might have also been a contributing factor. The looks you give him aren’t even furtive; they’re deliberately long, so you never miss whenever he looks over to you from time to time.

He doesn’t hold eye contact for very long (he does it well enough when he’s talking to customers, but it’s not like you’re ordering another cold brew from across the room at that point), but you can read snippets of his thoughts through the fleeting gaze exchanges. He’s curious as to why you’re asking for help, now, of all times, when the semester’s more than halfway over. He’s surprised that you asked him, of all people, because he just can’t conceive of a world that isn’t within a television show where this kind of abrupt, overt request makes sense. He’s flattered that you even asked him out of the blue. He’s equal parts anxious and eager to know what’s meant to happen after his shift, once he starts fulfilling your request.

Most of all, he’s unsure if he’s reading you right — if what it feels like you’re doing is something he’s attaching too deep a meaning to. If he’s right in reading your signs.

You don’t really mind it; you like knowing that Mark somehow wears his heart on his sleeve, even if he tries to remain neutral for the sake of appearances. You also bask quietly in the fact that he’s looking at you twice as much as he ever has in the time you’ve loosely known each other. Still, his bubbling confusion and inquisitiveness seem to be interfering with the rest of his work, especially when you notice that he’s been wiping down the surface of a table two down from where you are for more than seven minutes.

In the hopes of easing whatever tension might be in his heart, you offer him a small smile, but that’s only met with his eyes immediately glazing over and inching a couple of centimeters above your forehead, where the story of Starbucks’ origins is drawn out in a faux-manga style. He pretends to find it interesting, as if he hasn’t seen it a million times from coming into this establishment day after day — you know it well enough, and you don’t even have to, considering you don’t work here — and you can’t do anything but hold back your laughter.

A small part of you says you should just give him the affirmative answer to his biggest question, but every other cell in your body says that it’s no fun if he doesn’t ascertain it for himself.

He has his school bag and textbook in tow when he approaches, taking the seat across from you. There’s a steely resolution on his face, like he’s been emotionally preparing himself for such a daunting task, but it eases up the moment you laugh lightly.

“You don’t have to act like I’m going to eat you.”

“I’m still not sure why you’re suddenly asking me to help you,” he admits. He’s also very honest, you note. Again, not an unattractive trait. “I’m not complaining. I just didn’t think you even had an opinion of me.”

“Why’s that?” You’re genuinely surprised. Mark drums his fingers on the front of his textbook, thoughtful — less for the sake of thinking what to say and more for the sake of considering how to say it. It’s clear he wants to avoid calling attention to the fact that before now, you two have had no reason to run the same track, let alone sit together and talk at a coffee shop, as if you’ve always been the best of friends.

“Genuinely just thought I was the guy who gave you your afternoon coffee every day,” he finally settles. Your eyes widen, and another laugh escapes you — a little louder this time, enough to call the attention of a couple of jumpy freshmen nearby.

“Well — let me put it this way.” You lean over slightly, cupping your chin in your palm. “Was I just the girl you made coffee for every day until now?”

There are clear cogs turning in his head; his eyes unfocus slightly as he thinks of the possibilities. His silence suddenly makes you somewhat nervous; your tone had been confident, and you’d only said that to prove a point, to push him in the right direction, but you realize that you hadn’t previously factored in the possibility that he might simply say yes — or, worse, say no just to avoid hurting your feelings.

You watch his lower lip curl in; he uses his tongue to smooth out the skin that’s slightly dried from work fatigue. You would much rather it peeked out, so you could imagine it against your own. His response is mumbled in a lower register, but you catch some key syllables — didn’t… not … stranger — pretty … you?

“Sorry?” You ask patiently, but the fact that he turns red and laughs again — something you realize is not only a trademark of his personality but also downright delicious of him to be doing — is all the answer you need to let the apprehension seep from your shoulders. “I didn’t catch that.”

Mark clears his throat. “No, I… didn’t think of you that way. I mean… you’re my classmate.”

“Sure,” your tone’s breezy, but the somewhat sloppy confirmation of interest in you makes your heart soar. He just needs more of a push. “And we’re basically friends, right?”

“Yeah.” His voice is unsure at first, like he can’t seem to wrap his head around the concept. You can tell that Mark’s notion of friendship is likely based on shared interests, of which you admittedly have none. Technically, if you were his friend, you’d spend less time just telling him the exact same order every single day and more time sitting around a table trying to learn how to play Magic: The Gathering with him. Still, he takes one long look at your grin and suddenly gains confidence in his next words, as if it somehow convinces him that the briefness of your old conversations had been a mutually agreed-upon thing and not the product of social distance between the two of you. “Yeah. We’re friends.”

“Right. Friends help friends, don’t they? I’d definitely feel more comfortable having a friend teach me than some stuffy upperclassman I don’t know.”

You see Mark’s lips move slightly, in such small movements you could have imagined it as breathing if you didn’t care too much (which you do). He mouths, to himself — friends help friends. For some reason, that boosts his conviction even further, and he nods.

“Makes sense. Well — for as long as you don’t mind me, then.”

“Mind? I asked you, so I should be saying that.”

“I’d never mind — I mean, of course I don’t mind.” He’s quick to correct himself, and you have to stop your own hand from reaching out to try to satisfy your curiosity, the desire to know just how hot his cheeks get when he blushes. “More than happy to help, actually.”

“And I’m more than happy to be here.” You beam at him, and he mirrors your smile. You don’t know what it is about the look on his face — the brightness in his eyes, or the slight lift of his eyebrows, maybe — but it gives you the impression that he might be feeling at least a fraction of what you are: the feeling of your heart lifting off a few inches from your rib cage. “Since we’re on the same page, I hope — should we get to it?”

From the moment that Mark opens his textbook to a chapter on inverted parabolas, he assumes a personality you feel you haven’t seen from him before. You realize that you really do know him in only two limited capacities — his classroom persona that seems to really only view himself and the material, focused on the board and the professor’s words (even up until the useless anecdotes) to absorb as much information as possible, and his more genial customer service form, always happy to assist in the trained, easygoing way you’ve come to meet so often.

Right now, he’s a blend of both, yet somehow neither all at once. He’s quick to catch the parabolas you draw, either wrongly or downright poorly. Despite initial hesitation, he always manages to say something; there’s already a pattern to how he does it, from his slightly awkward, “Ah, sorry, actually —” to the way his finger traces over what you’ve written, outlining the right curve. You find his interruptions so endearing that you start drawing them wrong purposefully — not enough for him to realize your schemes in their entirety, but enough to cast you a few amused glances, like he can’t imagine why you’d map out such an absurd graph. You get the feeling he wants to actually laugh at how ridiculous you’re acting, but he can’t tell if you’re seriously struggling or not, so he settles for a smile he thinks he does well in keeping to himself, but that you catch anyway. He’s patient, even when you have to rip out pages from the back of his notebook because of your ‘mistakes,’ like he’s still catering to your request for an extra pump of syrup for your coffee on sleepy days.

But there’s also that side to him that comes out when he suddenly remembers the distance between you that, before today, had felt unlikely to be closed. It peaks at odd moments, like when you’re borrowing his pen because yours is currently holding your slowly unraveling bun up, and your fingers brush against his. It surfaces abruptly when you lean in to watch what he’s drawing until he realizes how close you are, arm lightly grazing his, and his pen freezes, ink blotting on the paper for a second. It’s in those times that you can almost hear his brain churning out questions — like he’s wondering if you’re just oblivious or if you’re doing something on purpose that he can’t quite believe. Like he wants to ask you what’s on your mind, but he just doesn’t know how.

If he asked, you would reply without missing a beat. The answer, after all, is simple (him). But Mark never raises the question, only does something without fully acknowledging what he’s doing — the adjustment of his glasses on the bridge of his nose, the ruffling of his hair as though to shake off his thoughts, the clearing of his throat to normalize his tone before he explains something you’ve just asked about. There’s always that light tinge of pink to his face that makes him look even more endearing, and it fades and returns every so often for the better part of two hours.

By the time he rubs oncoming fatigue out of his eyes, the sun has already set; there are far fewer people around you at this time, and for as much as you like spending time with him and breathing in the scent of his shirt — always a tinge of Downy, barely cutting through the much more overpowering scent of espresso and sugar — your back has begun hurting from your front-heavy posture and determination to have your face as close as rationally possible to Mark’s. Still, you don’t miss out on the fact that the act of him cracking his neck to relieve tension makes your lips curl inward, trying to stifle an inappropriate noise in reaction to the view.

“I feel like I talked your ear off,” he pipes up, sounding a bit sheepish. “Sometimes it’s hard to know when to stop once you’ve gotten started. I’m just hoping I didn’t bore you to death.”

“Meanwhile, I’m here hoping you aren’t sick of my questions already.” You smile, closing your notebook and hanging the clip of your pen on the spiral. Your arms stretch up first, followed by your back, a light twist to relax your posture into normalcy again. Mark’s breathing falls quiet, like he’d been preparing to say something in response but had let it die in the back of his throat instead. You let your eyes drop, expecting to see him looking at you, as he mostly has been — on and off — since his shift ended, but his eyes are far lower than yours, the telltale redness now growing in evident splotches across his cheeks.

The hem of your shirt has ridden up; while there’s nothing outrageous about it, there’s a short expanse of skin that it reveals, for a brief moment. His eyes are slightly glossy, brow furrowed like he’s trying to find a solution to something he can’t fully understand. You’re not even sure about what he could really be looking at, or if there’s something he’s just thinking of that caught his attention while his eyes focused on a rather unfortunate spot. To test your theory, you suck in your stomach slightly alongside an inhale.

It should be objectively funny to watch Mark blink unevenly, left eye going first before his right tries to catch up, but you manage to stifle your laughter — poorly, though, because you end up coughing a little and breaking him out of his strange trance. You avert your eyes quickly enough for him to look vaguely relieved that you hadn’t caught him looking. So he thinks, at least.

“Anyway.” You feel bad that you have to tear his mind away from whatever faraway land it must be trying to burrow a hole in; the dazed expression on his face dims into hastily hidden embarrassment. You don’t want him to feel awkward, so you just busy yourself with packing up, making an unnecessary show of stuffing your notebook back into your bag as if it isn’t half-empty at this point. “I really appreciate you taking the time to help me.”

“Any time.” His first attempt is a little raspy, maybe from overuse of his voice today, so he clears his throat and tries again. A slow smile builds on your lips. “Any time, really. I’m glad that this is actually helping you; you pick things up surprisingly fast.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah. Give it a couple of weeks, and you’ll probably be ready to tackle it on your own again, I’m sure.”

He smiles reassuringly, but all you can think about is how that’s not good. You should pretend to be a little dumber next time, or this will end much too prematurely.

The next five minutes pass in silence; you don’t expect to be knee-deep in conversation anyway since, as much as you try to convince him, you aren’t actually anywhere close to being those kinds of friends yet. There’s an unspoken rule to the give and take of things, where he pauses for you to get an item off the table and push it into your bag before he does the same with his own belongings. Neither of you really intersect paths, save for the moment you both grab your phones and stand at the same time.

His jaw falls open like he’s preparing to say something, then shuts as if he’s better decided against it. You decide to take the initiative to say what you’re assuming he wants to. “Same time, same table?”

“Oh — uh, yeah, for sure.”

You want to ask him to walk out with you. You want to lace your fingers with his, tug him out, and kiss him under the green and white glow of the sign outside. You want to know if kissing his collarbone means you’ll taste a hint of coffee. You think about doing it all somehow, especially since he’s fighting back a slight smile at the promise of tomorrow.

But it just isn’t the right time.

Instead, you place a hand on his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. The slow movement of his throat — yet another hard swallow — isn’t lost on you, and his eyes land on where the two of you connect. With a grateful smile, you bid him a soft goodbye, taking your leave first.

You don’t look back — at least, not until you’re fully in the cover of the darkness outside. On the gravel path, just out of reach of the lamplight, you chance one last glance back into the store. Mark is still rooted to the same spot, his backpack slung over one shoulder, staring at the table like he’s dissociating from what just happened — like he can’t believe the last couple of hours.

Your smile grows when you see his own, and his hand comes around to the back of his neck, rubbing it lightly like it gives him small comfort to let him know that it was real.

Baby steps, you remind yourself. You’ve already got one foot in the door, after all.

As the days trickle by, you fall into a more comfortable standing with Mark; there’s a routine to your meetings that seems to eliminate the initial and abrupt awkwardness of that first day. You come into that Starbucks at four, greet Mark, who doesn’t ever have to ask for your order, and spend the next hour and a half slowly sipping on it until the ice has thinned and watered down your drink substantially. In that time, you allow yourself to do whatever you want (as if you’ve ever done otherwise anyway), and what you usually want the most is a good view of him. You therefore use most of the minutes you have on hand to regard him from different angles — from the side when he’s frothing milk, upfront when he turns to leave cups on the pick-up counter, from the back when he’s clearing tables — interspersed with moments of checking your TikTok feed, clearing group chat messages, and sometimes re-curling your bangs with a portable iron from the school’s co-op center, a relatively new purchase you tote around these days. You do essentially anything in between to avoid acting too suspicious while he works.

Sometimes, you catch Mark’s eye too; the more your meetings increase in number over the course of a few weeks, the more deliberately he looks over at you, and the longer it lasts. You feel like you’ve made significant progress when your gazes lock and he smiles slightly, albeit a bit unsurely, instead of turning away like he used to. The other day, he’d even passed by while apologizing for how long you always waited for him — not that you ever minded, something you made a point to clarify with him before he walked away, carrying a couple of chairs from the back room with him to replace rickety ones.

That he’s able to transport them easily, as if he’s lugging a bag of apples from the grocery, does not escape your watchful eye.

What you like the most is that you start to learn more about him in a way that isn’t fueled only by your expectations and, therefore, limited by your imagination. You find out that he’s from a close-knit family with a rather cushy background, and this barista job is just for interest funding and experience, in that exact order. Most of his earnings are funneled into the things he collects, which apparently isn’t limited to comic books and special edition blu-rays with director’s cut but also a rather stupendous amount of PopMart blind box figurines. Apparently, he particularly likes the Skullpanda series even if he hasn’t completed it yet; your last session together had adjourned thirty minutes earlier than usual so that he could catch a pre-rush hour inner circle train to Hongdae, where the flagship store was set to open on that day. He’d promised to show you his pulls (as long as they weren’t embarrassing dupes). You learn that he likes to listen to loud music when he studies to stimulate his mind, and he has a playlist that’s just a jumble of songs from Punk Goes Pop volumes that makes him feel empowered for some absurd reason, like he’s going against the grain. You don’t really get it, but you do like that spiced-up rendition of Ariana Grande’s Problem that he let you listen to once.

Of course, there are things that you find out not through conversation but through continued, closer observation. You notice that he likes to put on chapstick even if his lips aren’t particularly dry, but he does worry on them often, most especially when he’s thinking hard about something. He has a habit of saying honestly… at the start of every other sentence, as if he’s concerned you won’t take his word on anything, even though he’s just talking about how unnaturally hot it was at noon despite it still being spring. He has long eyelashes that you’re equal parts attracted to and jealous of, and he bites the inside of his cheek whenever he wants to pep himself up after grueling shifts. He plays beats you’re not even sure he knows he’s creating against his knee with his fingers, so enthusiastic and consistent in this habit that you want to offer your thigh instead. His shoulders always go first before he laughs, and he does this thing where he raises his hand to cover his mouth at the start of it, which is a shame, because you’d do anything to keep seeing him smile like that — or, better yet, to be the reason for it.

Then there are those things you notice he tries to hide. He always turns his face halfway to the side when he blushes, something he seems to do without fail every time you smile at him. He has to temper the intensity of his grin when you take the time to compliment him on how cool his shirt is, or how nice his hair looks today, or how smart he is, like he doesn’t want you to know how good it makes him feel even if you want him to feel good about it, around you, because of you. Sometimes he denies it for the sake of responding, and his voice always lilts on the first syllable in his refusal to accept what you say, even though he knows you won’t take it for an answer.

And after a couple more careful experiments, you notice that Mark, out of the many things he’s interested in, seems to have a particular thing for your stomach.

You don’t know if it has anything to do with him not really seeing much of it in real life in his own time or if he just has his own kind of fixation on it, but you start to cotton on by the fourth time you meet. An hour of being hunched over a table that’s not at the greatest height in relation to your neck and torso has you stiff, and you’d leaned back in your chair, arms pulling to the air, hoping your spine might feel like realigning if you exerted enough tension pressure that way. Your shirt hadn’t ridden up this time, considering it had been tucked into your jeans, and it was because of this that you’d caught a flicker of something new in his face that you hadn’t seen before.

You could have sworn it looked like disappointment.

Of course, he hides it quickly, as he does with most of his emotional candor, but it’s enough to make you suspicious — enough to make you wonder if Mark is also just keeping something to himself. Or maybe you’re just projecting your own presently secretive nature onto him. Regardless, you think it’s odd that whenever you stand up or stretch, his eyes almost immediately fall to your midriff, like he wants to challenge your clothing into a staring contest before he thinks better of it.

You don’t mind, anyway. He can look as much as he likes. Maybe when the weather’s warmer, you’ll even cater to that interest and wear a crop top. Hopefully, that’ll be the push he needs to act on human instinct and ask you out or, like… bend you over. Maybe.

You’re often plagued with these kinds of thoughts in between the ones you try to keep as family-friendly as possible — now, more so than ever.

Sometimes, it’s easier, especially when you’re caught up in talks with him; despite the fact that he doesn’t seem like much of a conversationalist when it comes to generic matters, when either he or you are enthusiastic about a particular topic, he has a tendency to get carried away. There’s nothing impure about how his eyes light up when you remember to ask him about the movie he saw with his friends over the weekend or the way he hums old Nickelodeon cartoon theme songs under his breath whenever he’s looking for a page in the textbook. It’s more of a situation where you’ll observe something and immediately run with it despite it being an objectively normal action.

Like right now, as you’re watching him turn his pen between his fingers. Now, while he’s shaking his knee in mild impatience, as if he’s trying to will the answer to the worksheets you’ve both been trying to get through for the better part of the day faster. You’d made copies of the problems your professors had assigned and exchanged them under the premise of being able to practice more intensely.

However, whereas Mark is actually focused on solving, you’re just watching him out of the corner of your eye, wondering if he’s ever been told that his fingers are fuck-worthy on a singular, unique level or if it’d feel good for you to ride the thigh he’s currently moving, jeans and all. You consider the feeling of his warm palms on your bare waist as you do it, and you end up wondering if that’s what crosses his mind whenever he sneaks glances at you, too.

You’d know the answer to all those things if he’d fucking ask you out. Maybe you could do it after all. Maybe you should, instead of relying on slowly increasing the probability over such a long period of time. Maybe if you asked nicely, Mark might pull the shades down on the storefront windows and rail you against the glass.

You’re so lost in thought that it genuinely startles you when he plops his textbook over the worksheet, rattling your eraser dangerously close to the edge of the table. You’re still clutching your heart while he rubs his eyes a little too violently.

“Can’t,” he groans, and his neck gives into the weight of his head, allowing it to loll backward. “I feel like the numbers are just melting into each other. I swear, I thought I could read words out of them.”

“Maybe we were a little too ambitious with the double worksheet agenda,” you admit, even though you’ve barely gotten past half of yours and certainly haven’t touched a single item on his. “Should we call it a day for now?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, although he still takes the time to encircle his final answers before clapping his palms to his cheeks (an act that has your mind dangerously close to wandering off inappropriately again) to wake himself up. “Woah. I didn’t even notice how dark it is already. I’d say time flies when you’re having fun, but I’m not too sure about the ‘fun’ part of it…”

You trace his gaze towards the glass; the moon’s already out, surrounded by a smattering of low-light stars. You hadn’t realized how late it had gotten, probably because your mind had been on R-18 mode for most of the afternoon. Also, the days are getting generally shorter, but that fact doesn’t make you feel as embarrassed, at least.

“You got a ride?”

The question once again shocks you out of your small trance, and you turn back to him with wide eyes. “Well — no. Wait, I didn’t know you had a car. Why’d you take the subway, then?”

“Oh — no, sorry, I… don’t.” He looks suddenly sheepish, eyes dropping to the shiny surface of the table for a moment before they snap back up, as if he’s actually actively reminding himself to look at you. “I was wondering if you wanted me to — actually, more than that, are you going home already? Not that you need to stay; it’s not that important, but…”

You try to gloss over the fact that he had just been about to initiate another huge step in the right direction (i.e. offering to walk you home) by beaming at him, maybe a little too widely, if only to mask your disappointment at the sudden shift in conversation. “I have nothing waiting at home for me but a sandwich dinner and Singles Inferno, so hit me with whatever it is.”

“Oh, cool.” His lips turn up, and the corners shake, this show of happiness once again tamped down by his own inexplicable desire to maintain a safe distance. How are you supposed to tell him you’re desperate to bridge that gap without using those exact words? “I came from the flagship store yesterday — the one in Hongdae that I told you about?” He allows the smile to widen slightly when you nod in genuine understanding. “Got the last six boxes of the collection I’ve been trying to finish.”

You whistle appreciatively. “Can I ask you for a loan on my next phone bill? You know, once I’ve upgraded to something pricier.”

“Nah — just itching to complete the set,” he laughs. You wonder if he’s been doing that more often because he knows its crippling effect on you, though you doubt he’s that sly. Again, maybe you’re just projecting too much of your own motivations onto him. “This was probably about two months of saving up combined.”

“No new Iron Man issues to look out for, then?” Your voice is warm even though it takes on a teasing tone; Mark’s hand rubs the back of his neck, and his expression is a little sheepish, but you’re happy that the times he used to go completely quiet, opting only to blush at your attempts to act more familiar with him are pretty much gone now.

“Maybe next month.” You also like that he doesn’t really treat his hobbies as secrets, neither out of shame nor snobbishness. He explains these things to you the same way he does the topics you study — with an air of contentedness, like he’s happy someone listens to him without interrupting. On your end, you have no qualms with listening to his voice for hours, wondering when he’ll stop using it to greet you when you come through the door and when he’ll start saying your name in a way that makes you feel like you’re the only one he sees whenever you’re near. It’s a win-win situation (sort of). “I was actually debating between this collection and a really rare copy of Spi— well, never mind that. I just thought — since you were asking me a bit about blind boxes last time. You know, if you wanted to. With… me.”

As much as he’s become comfortable talking to you about things that don’t involve coffee orders and school, you can’t say that you aren’t doing your fair share of the work in connecting the dots; the demand for your efforts is exponentially higher in moments like this, when you think he’s trying to ask you something but can’t seem to find less-than-eager words to avoid what he thinks might spook you.

Luckily, he augments his fragments with action; reaching into his backpack — which you notice seems to be bulkier than usual — he starts extracting small brown boxes, all with the same design; it seems, for lack of better words, aesthetically gothic, and you reach out to pick one up, turning it over and examining the print on each side with vague interest. Mark starts laying them out on top of each other until there’s a small, somewhat unstable pyramid in front of him, then shifts his attention fully to you, just as you’re putting the box in your hand atop all the rest.

“I’d love to.” You beam as he does, and there’s a wondrous relief in his eyes that tells you he’s glad you manage to catch onto his words — or lack, thereof — surprisingly well. “For as long as you don’t blame me for any bad draws.”

“The contents have already been decided by my own hand — sort of,” he chuckles. “Point is, I would never do that to you. But I won’t lie; I kind of want to rely on your luck a little more.”

“What makes you think I’d have any of that running through my system?”

“Not sure — beginner’s luck, maybe? You just kind of look like one of those kinds of people to me — like… you’re just made of good things.”

You don’t know how to take this compliment; on the one hand, it’s easily one of the sweetest things Mark has ever said to you that doesn’t involve anything with actual sugar content. On the other, you know you’re not as lucky as he makes it sound, considering you’re still striking out on getting past the borderline of friendship with him. All you can do is smile, nodding and making to move closer to him by sliding into the next seat.

It’s hard to ignore the sight of him stiffening; something like surprise mingled with both fear and interest flashes strong across his face, but you don’t do anything to acknowledge the slight change in atmosphere, choosing to settle down comfortably and clap your hands. “So. What are the rules? What can I do, and what can’t I?”

“Uh.” His throat constricts at the right moment, the syllable getting caught and causing him to clear his throat. You know that this is the nearest you’ve ever been to him, the sleeve of your shirt tickling his arm. Upon closer, albeit brief inspection, you note that he’s also rather veiny. That doesn’t do your impurity any favors. “Not… really rules, or anything like that. Just — these are the ones I’ve been looking for. Not that you can really control it, but in case you were curious about that.”

You squint intently at the scaled-down images he points out. There’s one that looks like a penguin caught in an oil spill; another that seems to be in a polar bear costume, dozing; and — “What’s… halo? Halo…bios?”

“It just means marine life,” he answers quickly, like the thought means close to nothing to him to know something that obscure. Whoever said that smart is the new sexy wasn’t joking. “Like… all things that live in the ocean, that kind of thing.”

“And you know this because?”

He pauses, looking thoughtful. “I’m not sure. I guess I must have just learned it when I was curious about what it meant some time ago. Isn’t that how we all learn things?”

You shake your head incredulously, and he smiles a little apologetically. “You never cease to amaze me.” Your nail drums against the silhouette of one with a question mark on it. “What’s this supposed to be? Can you draw your own figurine, or something?”

“No.” He’s clearly amused, but his expression’s still patronizing enough for you to not feel too bad about saying something idiotic. “It’s a secret design — a money drainer, basically. You could buy a full set of this and still not get it. Some people will open hundreds without any luck, so it’s really rare.”

“You don’t want it?”

“I try not to get too caught up in the secret thing,” he admits. “Otherwise…”

“No rare print comic books for the rest of your life, basically?”

He taps his nose, and you both share another laugh. It’s nice, you think, to have come this far — to be someone Mark can share his interests and thoughts with. You may have been stretching the word to its limit when you first punched your way into his social life and called yourself his friend, but it feels more real now, more natural to think about and say. Even if he still sometimes seems to be hyperaware of the gap between the both of you, there’s no denying, at least, that it’s been significantly reduced, and this much is a testament to that.

“Well, leave it up to me. I’ll let all of this beginner’s luck rub off on you,” you announce with overflowing albeit unfounded confidence.

You both decide to open a box each at the same time; Mark suddenly panics and asks you not to unseal the foil bag right away without looking at the card inside first, earning him one slightly alarmed look followed by a burst of laughter at his pained expression when you pretend to rip open the packaging. Comparing pulls, you identify them using the set chart — your luck doesn’t seem to be operating at full capacity yet because you can only offer him the card of one that looks like a floppy pigeon, which he responds to with a slightly apologetic grimace before saying he’s already pulled that thrice in the past. He, on the other hand, is turning the card of the polar bear over in his palm, trying not to make you feel bad for your duplicate pull by slipping it under his textbook when your eyes land on it.

The second round isn’t much better; both of you manage to pull something he’s already added to his collection, and as you’re ripping the seal to your third box, he pauses and watches you. You think it’s because he’s concerned about the obvious shit luck you’ve had thus far and wants to snatch it from you before your negative energy transfigures whatever’s inside into something he doesn’t want, and you’re just about to offer the half-opened package to him before he pushes the one on his end to you.

“No way, Mark.” Your eyes are wide, a palm up to reject it. “If that turns out to be another dupe by my hand, I’m literally going to walk into oncoming traffic.”

He has to control his amusement at your words so that it doesn’t completely shake his voice into incoherence. “I picked all of these while I was there, so if anything, you’re only riding off my bad luck. Besides, this is your first time doing this. I want you to have fun.”

“But,” your voice is pained. “Your money.”

“It’s not a big deal. With how few I need to complete them, I was definitely bound to run into more repeats than new ones.” He taps the front of the textbook — or, at least, the part of it not buried under the figurines and sealing tapes yet. “Probability mathematics.”

“I thought we already ended the study part of the day,” you grumble but concede, putting aside the one you half-opened to tear the top of his. You’re careful when you shake out the foil packaging, making sure to place it upright on the table before extracting the card. Both of your faces fall — yours more than his — when you see it’s a repeat of the polar bear.

“Almost. It would’ve been a pretty lucky pull earlier, so it’s technically not bad,” he tries to reassure you, but you childishly feel like you’ve been the sole source of his disappointment thus far. “Try the last one.”

It’s irrational, but you’re suddenly anxious about it. For some reason, you’re worried that this will topple the carefully constructed ladder you’ve propped up against Mark’s tower of social defense. Even if he’s being genial about your rotten pulls, you don’t know how much of it is just resignation to dismay on his part.

You say a small prayer, then fully rip off the seal; you don’t even take out the packaged figuring anymore. You just shimmy the card out of the box, turning it over when you notice it’s upside down.

For a moment, your shoulders deflate. It’s closest to this pastel purple figurine in the middle of the line-up, its stupid puckered lips almost taunting you. He hadn’t even mentioned it as something he’s looking for, so you almost feel like this has come to a horrible full circle. But then he grabs the box, checks the list, and looks back at your card again. He looks shell-shocked, and you’re not sure if it’s the strong air conditioning directed towards the two of you or if it’s just his hands, but the image he’s holding is shivering slightly.

You look more closely at it, and something just doesn’t feel right. Color palette aside, there are notable differences — different colored lips, a more intricate ear design, and closed eyes. It’s…

“Dream eater,” Mark’s voice is hushed, almost reverent, and very, very close to your ear. “It’s the secret one. You’re… incredible.”

“What are you talking about,” your words are just as raspy; you’re not sure if you’re actually choked up with emotion or something — over a figurine, you have to remind yourself. “You picked all of this. I just ripped open the box.”

The hush that falls over the both of you feels very concrete, weighty on your shoulders. His fingers creep towards the foil packet — the only one he actually opens because there’s no way he’s not keeping it. The shiny purple head gleams under the fluorescent, the glitter around the star and moon designs catching the light as he turns it left to right, like he’s worried it’s a fake. You can tell why people want these things so much; there’s a thrill in you that lingers, makes you feel warm and alert. It’s anticipation, despair, excitement, and triumph all in one sitting.

You’re stroking the smooth curve of the design by the ears lightly when Mark speaks up again and says the most outrageous thing.

“I want you to have it.”

“What?” You actually have to pop your ear canal in front of him with your pinky to make sure he knows how ludicrous he sounds. “This is… you said it was crazy rare.”

“Yeah. And you pulled it, with your magic. That’s like… unimaginable luck. Even more than beginner’s luck.”

“Like I said, I literally just opened the box.”

“No — you have like… the golden touch.”

“Please,” you hiss, a genuine testiness to your voice. “Do not. I was just here for the ride — the experience, and all.”

“Seriously, take it.”

“Absolutely not—”

It’s a chaotic moment of him trying to hand you the figurine and you outright rejecting it, with both your palms working hard to push it back to him. Instead of nudging the plastic back, though, you end up placing the full force of your hands against his fingers.

There’s no actual spark when you touch, but your reactions make it feel like there might as well have been; you even lock eyes in startled unison, like you can’t believe that just happened, before you pull away quickly, Mark drawing the figuring back to his torso while looking away towards the counter, where a lowerclassman is wiping down the stains. You want to scream at your warped reflection in the window. You barely initiate contact with him, but you imagine that if you ever did, you would prefer to not be saying something as abjectly negative as absolutely not while doing so.

Your mind flails in an attempt to mitigate the issue and water down the embarrassment, and clearly he’s struggling to figure it out too, because he pipes up before you can piece your thoughts together.

“No, really.” His tone is a lot milder and, consequently, a lot more persuasive this way. “You should take it. I want you to.”

“It’s not mine. This is your thing — your hobby.”

“That’s why I’m giving it to you. I swear — I want you to keep it.”

“Why?”

He lapses into silence again, but his face is much redder than earlier. His mouth opens in an attempt to say something, but he just manages to uh his way back into a state of quiet, which gives you a chance to speak instead.

“We can… share it,” you suggest. “Shared custody…. ish.”

His eyebrow cocks involuntarily, and his jaw falls again, but all he does in actual response is nod — slowly at first, then with more sureness to the act.

“Yeah. We can share it. I’d… like that.”

You’re glad that the bulk of the awkwardness has fizzled out fairly easily, and when you think about it, this feels like a pretty good course of action; you like that it’s this little link between the two of you now — something you share that no one else can touch.

Mark, you notice, is smiling as well — more to himself than towards you, it seems. His thumb grazes across the face of the figurine, slow across the lips, and you’re once again falling into a pit of nonsense by wondering when he’d do that to you.

“Thanks for staying with me, _________,” he finally says, and your heart jolts and melts all at once. “And for… doing this. For chatting with me. And giving me your luck, and all that. Great way to end the day… with you.”

You say no problem, but you instantly regret it when you realize you could have just said it didn’t have to end just yet.

“__________? Hello? Come back down to Earth?”

“Shut up,” you sigh at the guy seated across you — Seo Youngho, an upperclassman, your Gender Studies classmate, and current project partner, waves in front of your face. You shoo his hand away, which only joins his other one as he throws them in defeat above his head. “Stop moving. Be quiet. Don’t talk.”

“That’s the same thing as shut up and be quiet. What’s up with you?” He demands. “Fifteen minutes ago, you were full of ideas. Now I feel like I’m talking to a wax figure.”

You’d been engrossed in your report for the last hour and a half, and the subject matter is admittedly something you enjoy — the role of gender in Twenty-First Century Korean marketing and advertisement, a title Youngho had taken more than ten minutes to type into the Google Docs header because he was pissed off at how the numbers looked like in the fonts he chose. He’s an enthusiastic classmate and someone you’ve come to be friendly with, not only because he’s genuinely approachable but also because he has fits of nosiness and talkativeness at the strangest moments, so a chunk of your relationship is mostly based on social terrorism on his part. You like him well enough most of the time — save for the last fifteen minutes of this hour.

Because Mark had just come in for his shift fifteen minutes ago, and suddenly Youngho is much too noisy for your taste, and his head is honestly way too big to the point that it gets in the way of your opportunities to see Mark behind the counter. You even resent him for choosing a booth instead of your usual table all of a sudden, because your view of the central barista’s area is much more limited from this angle, especially since the huge espresso machine is in the of your field of vision.

You’re also (currently and abruptly) mad at Youngho because you remember that he’s the reason you’ve had to skip out on a couple of sessions with Mark. Like, it technically isn’t his fault that you have a lot of research to do for the literature review section of the paper, nor is it his fault that this is your final requirement that comprises a whopping forty percent of your grade, but like… you’ll blame him anyway. So you’re much more irritable, and you’ve definitely been missing Mark’s presence. In fact, you kind of just want to shove Youngho’s balloon head away and call Mark over to sit with you, but you’re not that much of an animal to actually do that.

Probably.

There had been inquisitiveness across Mark’s face when he’d come in; his eyes had trailed to the table at which you usually sat, surprised to find two guys hunched over a single phone there instead of the usual you, waiting for him with your eyes bright and your smile wide. You’d like to think it’s because he’s gotten as used to seeing you as you’re used to waiting to see him — like he just expects you to be there.

You hadn’t really known how to call his attention to where you were, especially since Youngho was prattling very matter-of-factly about the academic journal he’d unearthed yesterday and how he thought it would be useful in reshaping the methodology of your paper (whatever). There was a moment in which you briefly considered ordering another cup of coffee just to get in line to talk to him, but your hands were already shaking from the venti you’d had to keep yourself from passing out in front of your partner.

So you’re more than relieved when, half an hour into his shift, Mark finally steps out from behind the huge machine, a mug of water for himself in hand, and turns away from the front of the store to drink it — only for your eyes to lock as he twists his torso in your general direction.

The mug stops just inches from his lips, but you could swear he smiles at you briefly when he recognizes you, so you return the favor. Youngho’s face contorts into abject befuddlement, turning around to see what you’re grinning at.

“Oh, you poor sap,” he snorts, finally letting the puzzle pieces fall into place.

“What?” You’re still distracted even if Mark has taken a gulp of water and is now attending to a gaggle of girls still in the throes of discussing what to order.

“What what? You gonna spend the rest of the day eyefucking Mark Lee from over here? At least let me get a different table.”

“Shut up,” you repeat sullenly, coming back down to his level and finally — albeit reluctantly — meeting his eye (just because Mark isn’t looking your way). “What were you saying about the sample size?”

“That it’s much too large to be feasible, a point we closed twenty fucking minutes ago,” he says pointedly. “Is it a thing for baristas or a thing for smart guys?”

“It’s a thing for Mark Lee,” you sigh, following Youngho’s suit and shutting your laptop close. You’re at least glad he’s not annoyed that you’re delaying work for a crush, or maybe he’s also just equally lazy at this point. “You ever look at someone and think you would give it all up for a chance to hit that?”

“No, because this isn’t a porn movie, and I’m clearly not the main character in whatever’s going on in there.” He jabs at your forehead; you swat his hand away again.

“Well, I would.”

He rolls his eyes. “So do it, dumbass.” He says this so simply, like he can’t imagine why you’d be holding yourself back, which is a valid thing to feel, except it’s not really any of his business.

“Can’t.”

“Because?”

“Because it doesn’t fit into my elegant master plan. Also because I want him to ask me out. I just want that victory.”

“Oh yeah, there it is.” Youngho leans over, wiggling his fingers at your ears like he’s greeting a next-door neighbor. “Hey, delusion. Good to see you. Do you even understand how crazy it is that you’re taking a Gender Studies class while waiting for your dick-in-shining-armor like a damsel in distress?”

“Asshole,” you grumble, violently opening your laptop monitor again. “Get back on Google Drive.”

Thankfully, Youngho complies, and the next two hours pass in relative silence and productivity, with you hammering out a vague references list that he promises to format in your stead so you can ‘spend more time dreaming about Mark Lee between your legs.’ You want to strangle him, but there are far too many people in the cafe for you to get away with it. Also, aforementioned Mark Lee would only be a witness to your criminal record, and while you think there’s something romantic in killing for love, or whatever, you’re not sure it’d make the best impression on him.

“Next week’s my birthday,” Youngho announces as he stands to tug on his jacket.

“Congratulations,” you say wryly, peeking over his bulletin board torso to see Mark tugging off his apron and picking up his school bag. Your heart hammers in your chest as he looks over at you briefly, and something like embarrassment passes over his face before he busies himself with neatly folding the fabric. “Go away.”

“Usually people look uncomfortable for not knowing and then start thinking about what gifts to get the celebrant, but I always felt you were kind of a revolutionary.” He snaps his fingers right in front of your eyes, and you look up at him, a little offended. “I’m having a get-together — and by get-together, I mean it’s gonna be a rager. You should come.”

“When?”

“Next Thursday.”

“Can’t,” you chew on your lip, wondering if Mark is leaving. His movements seem particularly slow, but you wonder if he’s just taking his sweet time because he has nothing better to do. Of course, he would have something better to do if Youngho stopped fucking obscuring you from him and vice versa. “Busy. School… whatever.” Not completely untrue. Most of what you do with Mark has to do with school.

“This moony-eyed thing is just not for you, I fear.”

“Are you going to be here all day?”

“Are you? Why don’t you just fucking ask him out, you lunatic?” You can’t imagine why he sounds so exasperated. It’s not like this is his problem — or his business, for that matter. “Maybe if you did, you could fuck him and move on with your life and be an actual contributor to society’s development.”

“Has anyone ever told you how nosy you are?”

“Constantly.” He brings his palms down on the table, the thud shaking you out of another oncoming stupor. “Think about it. Maybe it’ll make you stop making that stupid face.”

“You’ve got a stupid face,” you mumble, sulking as he pinches your cheek as a goodbye before heading out of the shop.

At least you finally get to see Mark in full, glorious view — and you get to watch him come closer, although his stride is somewhat cautious.

“Hey.” Even his voice sounds unsure — almost like the way he used to sound earlier in your friendship. “I didn’t want to interrupt you and… your friend?”

“Oh. Well, you wouldn’t have been interrupting,” you inform him, completely genuine. “He was spouting a lot of nonsense.”

“You guys seemed pretty close.”

“I guess it’s a proximity thing,” you sigh, and Mark raises his eyebrows slightly in question. “We’re partners.”

“Oh.” The way he draws out the syllable is slow. “That definitely makes sense.”

The silence stretches out between the two of you again, with Mark checking his shoelaces. You almost grab your head; it hadn’t occurred to you until now how damaging missing meetings with him would be to your friendship. You feel like you’re slowly being dragged back to square one, and you want to give him an explanation.

“He’s actually… I haven’t been able to see you because I’ve been working on something with him.” you offer, trying to answer a question he didn’t even ask. “Sorry about that. I swear I’ll be back on track tomorrow.”

“No, no — I completely understand.” He pauses thoughtfully. “Thank you… for telling me, though. I— uh, appreciate that.”

“I’d love to see you tomorrow, though.” You try injecting more pep into your voice. “I’ve really been behind on my algebra. I’ve definitely been drowning without you.”

“Oh, yeah.” A small smile graces his lips, but you can’t tell if the reluctance behind it is from fatigue or something that looks oddly like sadness. “I’m down for tomorrow. Same time, same table, right?”

“Yeah, for sure.”

“Cool. See you, _________.”

You watch him turn on his heel, walking to the front door, and something like fear mingled with desperation clutches your heart. Fuck the traditional route, you think. You don’t know what it is about how he’s acting now, but it’s making you feel like he’s slipping through your fingers. All that hard work — there’s no way you’re letting him go.

“Mark, wait.”

You’re at his side, fingers curled into the sleeve of his jacket before you can figure out exactly what you want to say. You feel as surprised as he looks at your sudden liveliness in action, and his gaze trails from your clenched fist to your face slowly, like he’s trying to memorize this whole position.

Your exhale’s shaky, but even still, you try not to sound overtly self-conscious when you ask, “Do you like Chinese food?”

Something in the furrowing of his brows tells you he can’t seem to see where this conversation is headed, and that slightly bothers him. “I like it well enough. Why?”

“There’s this really good dim sum buffet near my mom’s office. We tried it before — the Xiaolongbao is awesome.”

“Hey, that sounds pretty cool. I love Xiaolongbao. I’ll definitely have to check it out then.”

You want to tear your hair out. “How about — you know, checking it out with me? Tonight? You know… together. With me.” You already fucking said that.

You’ve never seen Mark blink this rapidly; he looks like he’s trying to crunch large numbers in his head. A small part of you actually worries that he’s malfunctioning, but just when you think he’s going to glitch out completely, he clears his throat. It bothers you how uncomfortable he looks. “Tonight? Oh man… it’s my cousin’s birthday tonight. I can’t… reschedule. Well, obviously. Maybe some other… time?”

Your ‘oh, yeah’ is small, and so is the ghost of Mark’s smile. You can’t help but feel like he’s pitying you a little, although he doesn’t seem like the type, but the thought of it alone makes you want to puke. He makes no motion to move, and you think he’s extending this awkward moment out on purpose until you realize you’re still hanging onto him and he has no way of telling you to let go nicely.

Fingers unfurling from his sleeve, you take a careful step back, but when he walks away, it feels like you’ve gone much, much further away.

The worst part is that you can’t even figure out why.

Luckily, the next few times you see Mark, you manage to rebuild a rather shaky bridge back to where you had been. You even manage to strong-arm him into sharing an apple fritter one afternoon, and you know it’s a bit sad to think about it a particular, untrue way, but you can’t help but pattern what you’re doing into some kind of pseudo-date. Pathetic isn’t a word you normally associate yourself with, but you’ve been borderline desperate for progress where there seems to be none, so you take small victories where you can get them.

Unfortunately, you haven’t been able to revisit your stupid dim sum plan; sometimes, he says he has somewhere important to be, but most of the time, it’s actually your fault. No — it’s Youngho’s fault, because he keeps bothering you to finish the project. You’re aware that he can’t do it himself, but since he’s informed of your current plight, he could at least stand to be more sympathetic.

And you hate the way Mark looks every time you splutter out that you have to take a rain check for that reason; it’s not even disappointment, or something, which would be much more understandable. It’s this mysterious kind of faraway look, where his eyes glaze over a bit and he seems suddenly very lost in thought — or completely dissociated. He never strays away from his normal response of “next time, then,” but that ‘next time’ fades into the weekend and into the start of next week, and you have to spend every other evening with an annoying Seo fucking Youngho on a Google Meets call instead of eating soup dumplings loveshot style with Mark Lee.

Thursday night rolls around, and the former performs the most irritating stunt yet: blowing up your phone with so many KakaoTalk messages that it almost buzzes off the table during your session with Mark. Luckily, he seems to have learned a thing or two from his comic books, catching it before it hits the floor.

“You sure you don’t want to answer it?” He asks, gingerly handing the phone to you like he’s afraid it’s going to explode from all the pinging.

“Without the shadow of a doubt,” you sigh, flipping the screen downwards. Buzz.

“It kind of seems important. Or, like… urgent.”

“He’ll live. Unfortunately.”

Mark falls silent, fiddling with the page he’s on. He’s neatly highlighted the formulas on the page with blue ink, and his finger keeps scratching at the slightly wet paper. Buzz.

“Didn’t you say you two were partners?”

“Yes. Also unfortunately.” Youngho is actually a great person, but you kind of hate how Mark’s paying more attention to his texts than to you right now. “What did you get for number ten?” Buzz.

“A hundred and twe— are you really just going to let it keep ringing like that? What if he’s… I don’t know. In trouble? Like, he needs you?”

You smack your phone on its back, hoping that the punishment reaches Youngho because he absolutely is in trouble — only with you. “He’s just making a racket because it’s his birthday and he probably wants a bunch of people to trash his parents’ house, or something.”

“Sounds like fun.” The dubious tone in Mark’s voice indicates that his idea of fun definitely isn’t that. Buzz.

“Not really, but I assume he’ll only pipe down if he manages to get his way.”

“He must really want you there.”

There it is again — that weird, distant expression that makes you feel like he’s trying to free himself from the tethers of the earth. You close your textbook in defeat; it wasn’t even like you got the answer to number ten correct anyway. Buzz.

“He just wants everyone there, I bet. But I probably should show up so he shuts up.”

“Oh — yeah, okay. We’ll call it a day, then?” He’s avoiding your eye as he starts packing his things, which is actually impressive because you have practically nothing but your book to keep in comparison to his pencils and protractor, so you just stare, willing him to look at you.

You want to know what’s going on in his head. You want to know what’s going on in his heart — what he thinks of you, why he seems warm one second then almost like a stranger the next. You want to know if he knows you like him and if him not doing anything even if he knows is a sign that he doesn’t like you back. You want to know if he’d let you kiss him, if he’d kiss you first, if you can meet not because of sweet cream cold brews or algebra but because you just want to be together.

You just don’t know how to ask. For as much as you like him, for as much as you want him, you haven’t figured out the most basic part of this — if you mean anything more than a two hour talk to him at all.

“Mark.” This feels awfully like the dim sum conversation, only somehow ten times more disastrous. “Come with me.”

“Sorry?” The appalled look on his face makes you squirm in your seat.

“I don’t really want to go, but maybe if we go together… we can just hang out a bit and leave once it’s boring… I think it’d be fun,” you explain lamely, deciding at the last second to drop the with you that had originally come with your sentiment.

“I don’t think your… partner will like someone uninvited showing up.”

“I’m inviting you.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works.”

“You’d be, like, my saving grace or something — my excuse to scram. We’ll say we came right from a study session; we only popped in halfway through for the sake of greeting him a happy birthday. Then we can just go. We can say — uh, we’ve got more work to do.” You’re practically begging him at this point, and you don’t even get why. You just don’t want him to leave looking the way he does — confused and a little detached. You want the Mark that had smiled at you while giving you your coffee — the one that had kindly pointed out an arithmetic mistake in the most gentle way possible. You want to open blind boxes with him, whine about your rotten luck, and part ways with his warmth still against your coat sleeve.

You don’t know what comes over you then, but you pluck up the courage and initiative to slip your hand in his. He stiffens a little, but you don’t care; your fingers squeeze his in urging.

Something in his expression breaks — cracks first, then falls away, before he’s nodding, still looking vaguely thoughtful.

“If you think it’ll help you, then… okay.”

The bus ride to Youngho’s neighborhood is uneventful because it’s quiet. You stand close to Mark at all times, but you barely touch, save for the times your knuckles accidentally brush his when you lurch forward slightly as the vehicle comes to a dangerously abrupt stop. He doesn’t ask anything about the party or the company that’ll populate it, which is just as well, because you don’t have a clue.

You know it’s the right house because the door’s wide open and there’s music coming from inside; you can’t make out much more than the deep bass pumping through the concrete, but you’re pretty sure it’s making your heart jump in your chest even more than it already is. There are quite a few people you vaguely recognize on the lawn, and even more that you absolutely don’t; a good number of them glance at you and Mark as you step through the threshold then look away, probably deciding you’re of no real consequence or harm to their moods.

Youngho’s easily spottable because of his massive height; he towers over the rest of his guests, and the red plastic cup in his hand calls even more attention because he’s lifted it over everyone else’s heads. You throw Mark an apologetic glance that he responds to with a short nod before you dive into the crowd alone, trying to weave your way to where you’d last seen Youngho.

“Bro, finally!” Youngho greets you, pretty much shouting over the music. “Where’s the gift? Did you leave it on the table?”

“Happy birthday, Youngho. Do you know how close you were to being blocked?”

“I see you brought mister espresso with you,” he ignores your comment completely, nodding to Mark. When you turn back to see him, you notice he’s squishing his arms closer to his sides, trying to minimize the space he takes up. “So what? Y’all get to hook up already?”

“No. I brought him here because we were in the middle of something and someone,” you stop, offering him a pointed look that’s also ignored. “Wouldn’t stop texting.”

“Cockblock,” the guy next to Youngho, who you now realize has been eavesdropping, singsongs. “Oh, sorry. You looked angry when you stomped through the crowd, so I wanted the juicy details. Name’s Jaehyun.”

You take the hand he offers you briefly, introducing yourself. When you say your name, realization dawns on his face, and he jabs his forefinger at you.

“Oh, dude. You’re that girl — the Starbucks Showstopper.”

“The what?”

“That’s what his friends call you.” He scratches his ear, seemingly racking his brain for more information. “I’m with Mark and a couple of his friends — Lee Donghyuck and Na Jaemin — in College Algebra.”

You completely gloss over the fact that you’ve finally found out the real government identity of the mysterious figure named ‘Hyuck.’ “They… talk about me?”

“From time to time. Not really. Once or twice. Donghyuck only calls you that because Mark apparently keeps blowing them off to hang out with you.”

“How do you know this?”

“I have ears. It’s not hard when they talk like no one’s around.”

You shush Youngho’s exclamation of and you’re saying I’m nosy?, your heart hammering hard in your ears, practically drowning out the music. “What… what else did they talk about?”

“Not sure. Something about not seeing you that often these days. Jaemin teasing Mark about getting dropped now that you don’t need his help anymore. Donghyuck piling on and saying you’ve got a boyfriend.”

“What?”

“Don’t shoot the messenger.” Jaehyun still inches away from you when your voice rises in pitch and decibel. Some people around you start, then move away as well, as if scared you’re going to incinerate them. “They were just teasing him that you probably ditched him after you started dating someone. Your partner in some project, or what.”

“Oh gross.” The realization hits you like a speeding truck. Youngho’s expression is affronted.

“First of all, you bitch. Second of all, as if I would date someone who didn’t even buy me a gift. Or want to come. Or yelled at me after coming. Wow — now that I think about it, you’re terrible, _________.”

“Oh, shit; that someone was you?” The only person that isn’t tense in this conversation is Jaehyun, who laughs point blank at Youngho’s sour face. “I think they were offering to put you into one of their Death Note notebooks. Sucks for you, hotshot.”

“What a smudge on my good name,” Youngho sighs mournfully. “On my special day, too.”

“I desperately need you two to be quiet for one second. I have to — where’s Mark?”

Even when you stand on your tiptoes, you’re not nearly as tall as the two of them; it’s Youngho, with his freakish height, who manages to spot Mark by the bowl of nachos, looking as though he’s trying to decide if they’re safe for consumption. You hardly excuse yourself; actually, all you say is a distracted “later” that dismisses Jaehyun’s cooing that something’s going down and you should clue him into all the mess later as a thank you. Your appreciation of his sudden and somewhat short-lived presence in your life is still up in the air.

Mark’s busy making a sour face at the sip of punch he’d just taken; he only straightens up when you’re right in front of him, putting his cup down next to the nachos. “Hey. Did you get to find… um…”

“That’s not important.” Your hand bunches the fabric of his jacket in a death grip, something he barely has time to register, let alone question, before you’re tugging him through the throng of people. You want somewhere quiet, somewhere private, and you initially consider the lawn, except you know it’s strewn with cups and has stragglers debating whether to go home or not. You can’t risk any of them being expert eavesdroppers like Jaehyun, so you make a beeline for the stairs instead.

“We’re not leaving yet?” He has to shout over the music, but there’s no resistance in his stride; he follows you up and waits patiently, although a little perplexed, as you check the doors on the second floor. Two are locked, one is a bathroom, and the other is a messy, musk aftershave-scented place you can only presume is Youngho’s room. Talking in front of a sink and a toilet doesn’t feel like it’ll be very productive, so you just drag Mark into the bedroom, kicking aside the crumpled shirt on the floor — which you could’ve sworn you’d seen Youngho wear for class yesterday. “_________, what’s going on?”

“Mark Lee,” you burst out, ignoring the fact that his eyes widen slightly at your tone. “What’s your fucking deal?”

You don’t think you’ve ever sworn in front of him before; that much is evident when he continues to gawk silently, unable to find words to respond to your question. Or maybe it’s just the volume and force with which you demand an answer. The problem is that you don’t even know what kind of reply you want. A small part of you nags that this is uncalled for, especially at this level, with you practically caging him into an unknown room. In fact, even now, you’re still embarrassed at your behavior, wondering if you’ve gone too far and stepped over a line between you.

But the source of all your frustrations is, in fact, that line — one so strangely drawn, clear at some points and almost invisible at others. Sometimes, he seems simply content with the barest minimum of friendship: talking to you, helping you, politely laughing at your (terrible) jokes. But there are also times he blushes too hard for it to not mean anything, times that he makes you feel like you could mean a little something more to him too.

Yet, from there, he wavers, stepping back so as not to get entangled in something you don’t understand — like when he grows distant every time you mention Youngho to him. You don’t understand why he would unless he echoed, even just a little, the longing in you. But you also don’t get why he stays and builds more walls around himself, like he’s determined to ignore all the other signs — like he doesn’t want to know if it’s really true and will just accept the assumption that it is. You hate not knowing where you stand with him, and while you could easily ask, you know you don’t want to.

And for a long time, you’ve convinced yourself that it’s because you want to see Mark step out of his comfort zone and initiate something, but the ugly truth is staring at you: it’s simply just that you can’t stand the idea of seeing him come to the conclusion that you can’t be anything more to him than someone he makes a sweet cream cold brew for every so often.

There’s a moment of tense silence between you two, where you’re just staring at each other — him, perplexed, and you, agitated — and the only sound that passes is the faint but unmistakable voice of Youngho going who has the cake cutting knife? from somewhere down below. You try not to get caught up in the fact that Mark still looks cute when he’s dumbfounded.

“Sorry?”

“What,” you repeat pointedly. “Is your deal? Why have you been acting so weirdly around me these days? I thought — I thought we were… getting closer. I thought… we…”

You’ve confirmed it now; you’re the epitome of cowardliness. You can’t even say I thought we liked each other — because you know that you do, but you still can’t honestly, assuredly tell if he does. Maybe you just read too deeply into the smallest things — smiles before he asks for your order, glances at you when he thinks you’re not looking, sharing the dream eater figurine — to fuel your own emotions without really checking the depth of his.

“I thought we were cool,” you reroute your words, and they come out flat and lame. “But just when I think you’re warming up to me, you suddenly pull away. Like… you’re afraid of me. Or you don’t like me. I don’t know.”

“It’s not — I don’t — I’m not afraid of you,” he stumbles over his words, and even in the darkness of this space, you see his face turn bright red, very quickly. His feet shuffle, not because he’s lost his balance but because he seems to want to get rid of a sudden restlessness. “I do like you. We are — we were getting — we’re close. We — we’re friends. You said that, and we are.”

“Is it only because I say we are that you agree?”

“What? No, I—” His hand passes over his face, slowing at the curve of his chin. “I really like being friends with you. I like being around you.”

“Then why do you act so weird these days? Like — you’ll be fine one moment, then you’ll back off, like you suddenly remembered you don’t want to be around me.”

“It’s not like that. I’m — I don’t get…” He takes a deep inhale, recalibrating himself for a moment before his voice comes out again, less strained this time. “I just don’t want you to feel uncomfortable around me.”

“How could I?” There’s something more than confusion coloring your voice; there’s hurt, too, and he looks as surprised as you feel at hearing it. “I wanted to be your friend. I was the one that asked you to hang out. I was the one who wanted you to talk to me, to help me, to go to a goddamn dim sum place with me. Why would I feel uncomfortable? Or are you just using this as some roundabout way to say you feel uncomfortable?”

Mark falls silent, and you don’t know why this speaks volumes all of a sudden. His eyes are trained to the tips of his sneakers, which are rising in soft bumps every few seconds; he’s curling his toes inside them. You feel like you’ve gotten the worst answer possible, and something grows cold in your chest.

“You feel uncomfortable around me.” You rehash, but it’s no longer a question. “You don’t know how to get rid of me.”

“No, it’s not that.”

“You think I’m only using you.”

“No.”

“Then what?” Your voice breaks, no longer out of anger, but a desperate sadness. The moment your eyes feel hot and prickly, you decide you want to end the conversation. It’s embarrassing, you think, for someone like Mark Lee — whom you like, who only ever sees you as a friend — to see you get choked up at a fucking birthday party at someone else’s house.

A beat later, you’re mumbling a half-hearted forget it, and you detest overdramatics, but you hate the idea of being in a room with someone who’ll never return your feelings even more right now; you push past him, already on the thought of calling a cab home instead of taking the bus so that no half-drunk businessmen coming from their company dinners see you crying.

But something warm wraps around your wrist, then closes over your hand, and you’re unable to move, Mark’s palm pressed against the back of yours. When you look back, you notice he’s still not looking at you, but his ears are practically on fire with how red they are, and you feel his fingers tighten slightly, tremble slightly against yours.

“It’s not that. I didn’t ever want you to think — I heard about you two. That you were dating someone. Seo Youngho.”

“What does that matter?” Your words come out a little more bitterly than you expect, and you have to remind yourself to reel it in. “That doesn’t explain your discomfort.”

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he repeats, still evidently careful in choosing his words. “Because you wanted to be friends.”

“I don’t understand,” you state bluntly. In the back of your mind, you note that Mark’s grip keeps tightening and loosening, unsure of whether to keep holding on or let go. But there’s something else, too — the soft graze of skin against yours, his thumb gliding over your knuckles.

“That was all you said you wanted to be, right?” He waits for a response, but when you don’t give him one, he lets out a shaky breath and continues. “You kept saying — we were friends. You wanted us to be close like that. I just wanted to respect it, even if…”

“Respect what?”

“That you didn’t want… anything else.”

The music downstairs is a bit tamer now; you hear the door opening and closing every so often, signaling guests leaving here and there, but there are still enough footsteps downstairs for you to know that there’s a crowd Youngho hasn’t gotten rid of and therefore has to attend to. That much is good; you’d get slapped with a homicide charge if he came up here all of a sudden.

“You were jealous.”

Mark’s fingers pinch the bridge of his nose for a moment. “I tried to stop. I don’t have a lot of practice with — well, I didn’t know how to approach the situation. I thought I was still acting normally; I didn’t think… I didn’t want you to feel weird and stop hanging out with me just because… I couldn’t fix it.”

“Your friends are assholes,” you mumble, and he finally meets your eye, equal parts startled and amused. “We aren’t. Weren’t. We never were dating.”

“Even without that, I thought… it was a bit embarrassing. Liking someone like you — someone as pretty as you, as nice as you — I thought it would make you feel weird. Then you’d start avoiding me too. Or, worse, you’d keep doing it just because… you… felt bad for me.”

You don’t know what you find more ridiculous — that you hadn’t seen figured it out or that you could have avoided all of this if you’d just been a little more honest with him too. Mark’s hand starts loosening around yours, a little too much, and you turn your palm and grip his hand before he can escape. He stiffens again, just like earlier, but you now understand better why he does.

“I just wanted to keep hanging out with you as much as I could. I thought… It’d be fine, just spending time with you, and I’d be able to like you for a while, on my own, then…” He looks a little pained. “Then just let you go. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry you couldn’t let go?” You sigh softly, your palm guiding his until they connect, face to face, and you can finally lace your fingers into his. There’s no resistance, but his hand trembles slightly in yours still. “If there’s anything you should be apologizing for, it’s that you ever thought of doing it.”

Something clears in the air, lightens in his expression, and he chuckles, albeit a little shyly still. “It’s because I never thought someone like you would like someone like me.”

“I like you.” And it feels right to say it now, not at all out of the blue, never in fear of an answer he’s already given. “I like you when you smile at me every time you ask for my order. I like that you never get impatient when I’m getting my answers wrong. I like seeing you excited when you talk about a new series you’re looking forward to — something new you really want to collect. When you blush, when you laugh loudly, when you spin your pen in your hand — I like you in all those times.”

“Even when I’m jealous?”

“Especially when you are.” Your free hand comes up to cup his jaw, and you’re reminded of the fact that you’ve wanted to feel the strength of the angle under your palm for ages now. It’s not at all a disappointment, and your heart flutters irregularly in knowing you could’ve done this a long time ago, but it doesn’t matter because you’re doing it now, and fuck if Mark Lee doesn’t look good this close to you. “So be jealous — because now, you know you can be.”

Kissing him is better than you imagined, and you’ve imagined a little too much to be embarrassed at this point; there’s a heat to his lips that matches the one across his face, an upturn to them that makes you smile too. The setting’s not at all an expected one, but you’ll take it, not because it’s dark or because it’s private but because Mark’s in here with you, and you would have kissed him in a brightly lit football field full of people for as long as he’d let you.

You’d like to think he’s flushed for a reason other than shyness when you pull away, even if his laugh is quiet and breathy. In fact, when you murmur not enough, he’s the one that closes the gap this time, offering freely what you ask for with such little eloquence. The natural trepidation in his mouth relaxes, gives way to a curiosity that keeps you locked for so long that you forget you need to breathe, much more intent on finding out if Mark’s tongue tastes as good as you’ve imagined for so long.

It doesn’t; it tastes even better.

It’s still not enough, not by a long shot, but you have to resurface before you pass out like this, and even he looks a little dazed when you pull away — not in a bad way, with a grin on his face that you can only classify as endearingly goofy: slightly lopsided and a little shy, but with an unmistakable air of satisfaction.

“Months,” he mumbles, his lips still dangerously close to yours. Your eyebrows rise in questioning, and he laughs in that infectious way that makes you want to join in without even knowing what the punchline is. “I’ve been thinking of kissing you for months.”

And you do share the laughter this time, not out of amusement but of a happiness that spills without restraint. “But you’re suddenly holding back now?”

“Just letting myself bask in the moment, I guess. Letting it sink in so I remember everything.”

The two of you stand there quietly, still trying to fully parse the progression of events, and a small part of your mind registers that Mark’s thumb is still drawing circles on your skin. It’s also not enough — this touch, this closeness. You know now that he’s been thinking of you for months, and it reminds you that you spent that time dreaming of him too. And you remember you’ve always wanted to be even more familiar with him, and suddenly the desire is overwhelming; he’s right here, and you don’t ever want him out of your grasp again.

“Where are you going?” He’s only curious for the sake of it; there’s no alarm in the question because you keep your fingers tightly woven in his, tugging him along as you walk past him to the door. He’s still staring in wonder after the lock clicks shut. “What’s… happening now?”

“You waited months to kiss me, right?” He nods in response at your question. “I’ve been waiting just as long to have you too.”

His mouth falls open, but he doesn’t manage to say anything; his jaw tightens just as quickly when he feels your free hand trail down his chest, feather-light and asking for a green light. Your index finger stops just above his navel and draws back slowly, but not before you feel the shiver that runs down his torso.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” you murmur, giving his hand a little squeeze. “But I just want you to know — I want to. I want you.”

A thoughtfulness settles on his face, and his eyes graze over yours, trying to read your seriousness. You don’t know how honest you look, but your words hold enough truth in them. A silence stretches over the next minute, but to you, it feels like an eternity, and you lose the test of patience somewhat, smiling softly at him.

“You don’t want to?”

“I—” His tongue peeks out, running over his bottom lip. “I do. It’s not that I don’t want to, but…”

“You seem worried.”

A hesitant nod. “I’ve never — well, no, I have, but not — with someone like you.”

“What’s someone like me?” You laugh airily.

“Someone pretty like you — I don’t know. Someone who seems to know exactly what they want. Someone who seems like… they could do better than me.”

“Mark.” You can’t keep the incredulity out of your voice. “I do know exactly what I want. I want you. The rest — I don’t care about. As long as it’s you, I want it.”

He cracks a smile, half of relief, half of disbelief. You don’t miss his hand coming up to press, warm, against your waist. “For real?”

Your fingers curl into the front of his shirt — an anchor to bring you closer, until the tips of your noses are brushing. “For real.”

The third time you kiss is slow, almost careful; there’s lingering worry in the line of his mouth that your lips try to ease until his slightly part under the movements of yours. You feel the tension leave his form in waves — first in his shoulders, then in his arms, until you’re able to press yourself closer and feel the slight give of his frame against your smaller one. He’s radiating an immense amount of body heat that’s pricking your skin and keeping you alert, and you’re hyperaware of the smallest things — the weak tremble in his mouth, the slight roughness of his teeth under your tongue, the ridges of his palate above it.

He tastes nothing like what he smells, you learn. Instead of the air of earthy coffee stuck to clean linen, you inhale a combination of spearmint and mild saltiness that’s made slightly sharper by the lingering splash of alcohol from his accidental sip of punch earlier. You decide then and there that this disparity is important to you; it makes you feel like you’re the only one who can have this experience — that everyone else can know his scent, but now, only you can know what Mark Lee tastes like.

You have to keep your wits about you to avoid this addictive stimulation of your senses; you let go of his hand only to lock your fingers around his neck, and there’s a show of trust in how he lets you lead him backwards, until his knees are hitting the edge of the unmade bed. The kiss breaks as he’s forced to settle on the mattress, and he looks up at you in what can only be described as a quiet kind of awe. He doesn’t complain when you place your hands, heavy, on his shoulders, using his sturdy form to keep you stable as you move to straddle his lap.

“I feel like,” his voice is hoarse as he speaks up. “We should have picked a different location. Someone… could walk in.”

“I locked the door,” you remind him, a light reassurance in your voice. He doesn’t say anything immediately, but it’s clear there are cogs turning in his head, and you think it’s unfair that he’s thinking way too hard about something else that isn’t you, right now, in this position. In a bid to rectify this, your face presses into the side of his neck, breathing in that familiar scent and leaving a light kiss on his skin right after. Your lips mark the moment he swallows hard at the contact. “Besides, would you really be that unhappy if someone did?”

His hands tighten against your waist, prompting you to leave another kiss against his collarbone. “What — what do you mean?”

“You wouldn’t like it if someone — say, Youngho — walked in to see me on your lap like this?”

The silence that follows your words is tense, and you can tell that Mark’s breathing has become shallower. Again, you can feel his throat constricting slightly, and you can’t help but laugh breathily as you nip at his skin, just under his Adam’s apple. He’s surprisingly easy to tease, you realize — quick to turn speechless and prone to hanging onto your words.

To say that you wouldn’t want to use that to your advantage would be a downright lie.

“Tell me,” you urge, your tone deceptively gentle. “You wouldn’t want him to see you kissing me like this? To see me wrapped around you, begging for more, saying your name over and over? You don’t want him to watch you take me — so he knows you’re the only one that can?”

A strangled groan punctuates your words, but it comes from him; his fingers dig hard into your side with barely constructed restraint. “What do you want from me, _________?”

“I want to know if kissing me was the only thing you wanted for months.”

You pull your head away, nudging his chin with the tip of your nose. Another groan escapes him, and his head tilts back slightly, almost like he’s praying. But when his gaze comes down to meet yours at your level again, you see a firm resolution in his eyes that stirs your heart — which takes off the moment he shakes his head, slowly but surely.

“Then,” you whisper. “What do you want from me?”

He doesn’t say so much as shows; he takes from you your breath, steals another kiss that’s now firmer and more openly demanding. Suddenly, his mouth can’t seem to stay still, trapping your lower lip in between his, drawing out your taste until it mixes with his against his teeth. You feel your head growing light again, and you’re pleasantly surprised that it’s suddenly become difficult to keep up with his lips, asking more from you without restraint. A hum of need sounds in the back of his throat, vaguely dissatisfied, and he’s telling you wordlessly that it isn’t enough right before he attaches his lips to the base of your neck, just above your collar. You think he’s just about to return the favor, but a laugh leaves you when you realize he’s taken it a step further, his teeth grazing your skin lightly, soft nips signaling how eager he is to sink his teeth in with only his slowly weakening self-control stopping him from doing it. Mark’s breathing is slightly labored when he pulls his lips away, warm breath fanning over your chest.

“It’s crazy — and stupid,” he croaks out, voice slightly raspy. “But I want it, and I don’t.”

“What do you mean?” Your fingers drag into his hair, combing it upward messily from his nape. He leans in for a quick kiss that’s somewhat misplaced, landing on the corner of your mouth instead of squarely atop it.

“I want them — him to see us. To see me with you, kissing you — fucking you, too. I want everyone to know we’re like this.”

You’ve never heard Mark say anything so forwardly before; a sweet, warm flush builds in your face, pleased at how comfortably he manages to say it — pleased that he’s saying it to you. “Then what’s the problem?”

“I don’t want him to see you.” There’s a bluntness to his words, but hiding behind them is an undertone of pleading — a serious request. “I don’t want him to see how pretty you look. I don’t want him to see you when you’re bare, or how you look when I’m inside you. I don’t want him to see—”

His voice wavers and dies, and you wonder if he’s embarrassed, but when you read his expression, you see an unyielding longing. A smile tugs at your lips, and your hand comes around to cup his chin, thumb extending upwards to drag his lower lip down.

“You don’t want him to see what’s only yours.”

He swallows hard again, but he doesn’t wait long to nod. Understanding passes between the both of you, silently but completely, and Mark presses his face to your throat, feeling the hum resonate as he places another long, firm kiss there.

“You’re mine,” he whispers, in a way that almost feels like he wants to convince himself of something impossible to believe. He doesn’t even wait for your affirmation, prefers to read it in the way you shiver lightly once his lips travel further down. His kisses trail past the collar of your shirt, and his hands are unabashed in how they seek skin, pushing the fabric upward so he can settle the palms of his hands, warm against your waist. Oddly, they don’t travel upwards; they only brush against the dip, down slightly over the upward rise of your hips, then upwards again, almost soothingly. It’s almost like he wants his mouth to meet them, but he stops halfway, sidetracked by the curve of your breasts.

He barely pulls away, only does for a moment, enough to meet your eyes.

“You’re only mine,” he repeats, his voice softer now. You realize he’s still waiting for some confirmation, and when you do, you’re quick to give it to him — quick to erase any doubt.

“I’m yours,” you affirm in the same tone, in the same careful volume. “Only yours, Mark.”

Whatever else he wanted to ask for, he knows you’ve given assent; that much is clear when he buries his face between your tits, inhaling your scent. You briefly wonder if he might feel just as intoxicated around you as you do around him, if your pleasant dizziness in being this close to him, in tasting and smelling him is something he experiences too, but you don’t get much time to dwell on it the moment you feel his lips part, a slight wetness seeping through the fabric. He’s kissing your chest, teeth grazing just above the cup of your bra, nipping without any real objective other than to feel the pad’s slight resistance to his mouth.

You almost miss what he says as he shifts his head, lips brushing over the curve of your breast — another breathless ‘mine’ that isn’t ever punctuated; his lips still stay parted, mouthing at the cloth, like he’s desperate to feel what’s underneath through it. There’s pressure where his tongue presses flush against the shape of your tit, tightness whenever he chooses to nip, attempting to take the flesh and all that’s between you and him between his teeth.

Not enough, you think, even when a whimper of need bubbles out of you; you want to be closer, your thighs pressing against the sides of his. You’re close in almost every way, but you still inch yourself further forward, enough to feel the taut hardness in his jeans. Your hips settle right there, letting fabric ride against fabric as you center yourself.

No sooner do you press yourself flush against him do you gasp; the light sting sends a jolt up your spine when his teeth close around your nipple through your bra, and when you look down at him, you see the corners of his mouth pulled up in evident satisfaction. He’s quick to atone, his tongue dragging your shirt slightly upwards in his attempt to soothe, and for some reason, the push of fabric and the barely-there feeling of motion leaves you tingling.

“Mark.” Your voice comes out in a whine, but in the haze you’re in, you don’t really have a clear idea of what you’re asking for. All you know is that you want more of him, and for as much as he’s already given you in kisses and words, you aren’t even halfway down the list of everything else you wish you could demand from him. You say the only thing that comes to mind — the only thing that really encompasses what you feel. “Mark, I want you. I want more of you.”

His hands on your waist are replaced by the significant tightness of his arms, locked around your torso; you don’t even have the time to take in your awe at the fact that he can easily carry you, turn you over until you’re on your back, until he’s already eased one knee between your legs.

The way he looks down at you is a mixture of hesitation and desire, but the former’s erased when you reach out for him, murmuring another ‘more’ so you can pull him in. With one palm pressed against the mattress, he lets his free hand graze against your side again, bolder in its movements, and his fingers trace a path up to your breast, squeezing the soft flesh through layers. Your back arches upwards in response, eager for more contact, for touch that’s almost there but not quite, and he smiles when you make a noise of frustration from his fingers tweaking the soft nub of your nipple.

“Mark, please—”

“Would you really let him see you like this?” His thumb’s still idly grazing over your breast, following the rise and fall of its curve. You swallow hard, trying to keep your voice level despite the growing want that threatens to break through it. “Would you really let him watch you… get fucked?”

You shake your head, and his brow furrows.

“I’d let him watch you fuck me,” you correct him, and the confusion in his face gives way to pure satisfaction the moment you make this nuance clear. “It has to be only you.”

His grip tightens briefly against your breast again, and he leans down, pressing a surprisingly chaste and brief kiss to your lips.

“Then I’ll unlock the door next time and give him a show.”

You don’t know if it’s what he says or what he does after — his hands bunching your shirt upward until the hem’s just below your neckline — that makes your breath hitch, but you decide it doesn’t matter when you realize you’d much rather be focusing on the journey his lips take, slick against your stomach as he presses languid kisses down to your navel. His fingers hook into the waistband of your jeans, the weight naturally pulling them down, and you see his muscles tighten for a moment as he stops himself from tugging them off completely.

Mark’s mouth is unparalleled in its attentiveness, seemingly intent on making sure he’s covered every inch of your stomach in warm kisses, but you only realize he’s somehow stalling when he starts the cycle again, his nails digging into the taut elastic of your jeans as though to remind himself to curb his desire.

You take the initiative instead, raising your hips slightly to signal your want, acutely aware of the fact that you brush lightly against his thigh when you do so. His eyes lift first, followed by the rest of his face, and he’s watching you quietly. You might have thought he was unsure of what to do all of a sudden again, but his knee pressing closer, an unmistakable pressure against you, is enough to tell you that he’s only curious to know what else you’ll do.

The second time you grind against his thigh, his hands catch your hips, keeping them aloft just long enough for him to tug the band of your jeans downward; he peels them off you with surprising ease, returning to the same position between your legs, hands still firm on your waist. With that done, he only has the thin garter of your panties left to curl his fingers into, bunching it into his fists when you roll your hips up one more time. You manage a shaky noise when you feel the stark difference — the roughness of the denim against you, the stick and drag of flimsy cloth. Mark lets out a low but unmistakable hiss.

“I can’t believe—” his idea is cut short by the movement of your hips again, and his grip tightens, knuckles pressing into your skin. “Can’t believe you’re here. I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“What am I supposed to do,” you breathe out, the sound momentarily getting stuck in your throat. “So that you know it’s real?”

His fingers relax their hold, palms now pressed against your thighs; they travel between your hips and your knees, a soothing and thoughtful motion. “God — I don’t know. I just want — I just want you so badly. Like… I’m going to go crazy if I don’t have you now.”

You lean up, your weight resting on your elbow, and your other hand reaches out; Mark meets you halfway, bending just a little lower to press his cheek against your palm. There’s something intimate, something so giving about the way he turns his face to your fingers, pressing a fluttering kiss just under your thumb. The tips of your fingers trace the shape of his lips, even when they pucker again under your digits.

“Take me,” you murmur quietly. “Right now — from now on, every part of me is all for you.”

His exhale is shaky, but his fingers have a sureness to them; they slip under your thighs, cradling the backs of your knees, and lifting until they’re folded over your chest. You don’t even have the time to wonder if you should feel exposed all of a sudden; his breath warms the inside of your thigh as he presses his lips there — not a kiss, just a touch as he speaks.

“I want to taste you,” he mumbles, partly distracted with the act of inhaling the mild scent off of your skin. “Every inch of you — I want to know just how sweet you are.”

He lets his hold on your thighs relax, letting them fall apart; he busies his hands with your panties instead, hooking a finger into the strip of cloth just covering you. It’s clear you’re both aware that the fabric sticks light to your skin, poorly masking your wetness, and interest mingled with hunger flashes across his face as he pulls it aside.

“You’re so pretty,” he says, sounding like it’s a comment more for himself than anything else. His gaze flickers to you for a moment before it moves back to your pussy. “The prettiest fucking girl in the world.”

The pressure of his thumb between your folds causes you to forget what you wanted to say, and you know Mark had been nervous, but you realize that it doesn’t mean he’s supremely inexperienced by any means; there’s a quiet, understated confidence in the way he rubs slow, thorough circles, moving upward towards your clit. Your face, your neck, your whole torso feels flushed, but you power through the instinct to tilt your head back so that you can keep watching him — the minute changes in his expression, the slowly building strength in his touch.

“I want to taste you,” he repeats, looking up at you. “I want to know what you taste like when you cum against my mouth.”

You’re not sure if you’re gawking because you can hardly believe Mark Lee — your eternally blushing, mild mannered campus crush — had said all those words strung together into such a lewd sentence, but you’re sure as hell not going to deny him. Your hand travels down your torso, and he watches, curious at first, then awestruck when your index and forefinger settle against either side of your folds, pulling them apart in offering.

His eyes end up transfixed on your pussy again, observing how your fingers ease your folds further apart the more he massages his thumb against your slit. His mouth is slightly agape, intent on drinking in the sight, unaware that you’re trying to memorize this view of him too — Mark Lee, touching you, wanting you, eager to take you fully.

“I’ve always wanted to see what it’d look like with your face between my legs,” you say in a hushed tone, but he catches it anyway, briefly looking up at you again. “I’ve always wanted to know what your tongue would feel like against my pussy.”

Your index finger bumps against the tip of his thumb, and he stops its motions, allowing you to move his digit down until the pad of it hovers just in front of your tiny hole. You can see one cheek tucked between his teeth, bitten to muffle the groan you wish you’d heard louder.

“Won’t you show me?”

You think you hear him rasp out a ‘fuck yes’ before he bends down, pressing his half-open mouth against your pussy. The squeal of delight that leaves you is half-strangled as his thumb curls, hooking into your entrance. It starts a shallow, distracted motion, with his attention funneled much more clearly into keeping his tongue working. Flush against your slit, it drags up, and he releases a guttural noise at your taste, lips pursing slightly on the way back down — like he can’t stand not trapping every drop of wetness with his mouth.

The intensity of his tongue, the idle thrusting of his thumb — you’re not sure what you want to focus on more, and the result is you whimpering incoherently at the starkly contrasting combination of the two. Mark moves his mouth like he’s never tasted anything as good in his life; the sounds between your thighs are wet, sloppy — almost embarrassingly so — but you don’t have the presence of mind to dwell on that because Mark Lee is eating you out and that’s really all that you can think of.

The tip of his tongue suddenly flicks upwards; you keen, long and low, when it starts to circle your clit in that same intense, circular movement his thumb had gotten you used to. Your sensitivity skyrockets, and you’re completely unable to control the upward bucking of your hips, but Mark stays supremely unperturbed, his free arm winding under your thigh to keep the both of you steady. Your noises are growing embarrassingly loud, and you realize just how needy you’ve become when you vaguely notice that there’s a pattern in what you’re saying — his name, over and over again.

“Did you do that too?” He asks softly, his words slightly muffled against you. “Say my name, I mean — when you thought of me.”

“God, yes.” Your voice comes out strained, teetering on the edge of slurring. “So many times — every single fucking time.”

“Promise me something.” He lifts his head, and you see a fieriness in his gaze.

You nod — at this rate, whatever he’d ask you to do, you would without question. “Anything.”

His thumb presses in deeper, up to his knuckle and you reflexively tighten around his digit, but he keeps it anchored there, pushing down against your walls. He drinks in your gasp, the widening of your eyes, the way you chew on your lip with a singular kind of contentment on his face.

“Promise me — from now on, you’ll make sure I’m always there to hear it.”

The only kind of assent you’re able to make is a moan as he dives down again, mouth buried in your warmth, his nose pressed tight against your clit. His tongue moves in strong strokes, broad swipes that push your folds apart further, and his thumb, while not moving, increases in pressure to the point that you feel a heaviness adding to the growing pleasure. Your hands fly down, seeking some kind of sense and reason, and you thread your fingers into his hair, grip tightening as your climax builds in stride.

“Mark, I’m—” close, you want to say, embarrassingly so, but the moment he hears his name, his lips attach to your clit, and there’s suddenly so much more pressure as he sucks, almost like he’s desperate to draw out your orgasm. He chooses this of all time to start moving his thumb again, and this time, his movements are anything but slow and idle; they’re filled with the intent to drive you over the edge. “Fuck me, oh my god—”

“I want to,” he murmurs, pausing for just a moment to drag the tip of his tongue around the nub. “God, I want to. Let me see you cum first; let me taste how sweet you are.”

His thumb stops, buries deep into your pussy, and you’re not sure why this, of all things, is what pushes you beyond control; you’re only half-sure you say his name when your orgasm hits, the rest of your consciousness much too clouded by pleasure. He doesn’t stop, revels in the way you squirm under him as he hums low and keeps his tongue working against your clit. His licks become longer, more thorough as you come down from your high, your cries softening into whimpers as his tongue both attempts to clean you up and makes you messier in the process. His arm is still curled around your thigh, keeping you from inching away from him, even if instinct and stimulation are telling you to.

You’re barely lucid when you sit up, and Mark inches back, somewhat startled; you grab the front of his shirt, and the sight of his mouth, slick and glistening from your wetness, only makes you more curious to know what you taste like on him. You find out how tangy it is, how rich the two of you are together on his lips, and you’re able to fully appreciate the skill of the mouth that kisses you deeply, leaving traces of you against your tongue and teeth.

“Please — fuck me.” It’s the only thing you can say at this rate, only half-coherent and still trembling with desire, but Mark doesn’t seem to care that you’re stuttering over such a simple request. His thumb wipes traces of saliva off the corner of your mouth, kisses it clean for good measure, then straightens up, his hands working at his belt. You almost miss the fact that his hands are shaking slightly as he undoes the buckle and tugs it out from the loops.

You want to help — it’s the least you can do, after all, and your fingers push the button of his jeans out through the hole, his hands working in tandem to tug the zipper down. However, your movements falter when you hear a noise from just outside the room — the sound of the doorknob being jangled, the thud of a body gently hitting the door, as though worried it’s stuck. You glance up at Mark, ready to reassure him, but he either hadn’t heard or doesn’t care because he’s too busy stepping out from the pool of denim at his ankles, and you get completely sidetracked by the bulge straining against his boxers.

You almost ignore Youngho’s voice grumbling ‘Jesus Christ, now of all times? from behind the door, but you leverage it instead.

“Should we let him in?” You ask, tone innocent despite the evident deviousness in your words. It pays off, though; Mark’s cock twitches unmistakably under thin fabric, and he actually looks like he’s considering it. “You’re just about to fuck me, after all. Weren’t we going to — what did you say? Put on a show?”

He worries on his bottom lip, like he’s unsure if you’re serious, but in the end, he shakes his head, reaching out to smooth your hair away from your face and ushering you to lay back down. The lips that meet your forehead are gentle, almost apologetic.

“Not now,” he murmurs against your skin. “Right now, you’re all mine.”

You laugh lightly, nodding, and he chuckles too, but the sound of it slowly dies down when your finger hooks into the garter of his boxers. You can feel his breathing hitch as you tug it down, the elastic catching when it meets the shape of his cock, but you don’t make any move to free it just yet — for some reason, you want to see him do it.

“Show me.”

He complies without hesitation, one hand dragging the elastic down over his thighs, the other curling around the base of his length, and your face flushes as satisfaction works through your system at the bare sight of him.

Mark Lee is big — not monstrously so, but enough for you to make a pleased noise as your hand joins his, fingers barely wrapping around his girth. You give his shaft a gentle squeeze, and his exhale stutters, watching you stroke him, long and thorough in your movements. Your palm swipes over the tip, leaking precum, allowing it to slick up your hand enough to keep your movements smooth. You’re fixated on the tension in his lips, the throb of his cock against your palm, and the way his gaze never leaves your face, like a small, amazed part of him still can’t believe what you’re doing, even if you’re both half-naked already.

“I want to suck you off,” you plead, grip tightening slightly. He grits his teeth, stifling another groan, but he shakes his head clearly enough for you to slow your movements in mild surprise.

“Can’t — not now. I need to be in you so badly.” His breathing’s sharp and heavy, like he’s trying to keep himself in check. “You don’t even know — how long I’ve wanted to feel you.”

Your hold relaxes, and you let him maneuver you, his renewed hold on your hips dragging you closer to the edge of the bed. In this position, he can spread your thighs further, and you angle yourself optimally — enough for him to get a full view of your pussy, wet and still aching from your last orgasm.

“You don’t know how badly I’ve wanted to know how tight you are,” he continues, and there’s a faraway look in his eyes that makes you think he might be entrenched in fantasy. “How much I would have killed to see you — have you like this. I’m not gonna be able to wait anymore.”

His fingers dig into your sides, thumbs stroking your stomach in a weak pattern. The underside of his shaft presses against your folds, still half obscured by your panties, in a way that’s heavy enough to make you mewl, your hips reacting before your mind can, and he hisses softly as he feels his length glide along your slit before you relax your stance again.

“I can’t wait,” he reiterates, a breaking in his voice that sounds almost tortured. You don’t want him to either, want to see him buried to the hilt inside you, and you raise your hips again in need. “I want you so much it’s driving me crazy.”

“Then take me.”

And you’re not sure if it’s a demand or a plea, but he no longer stops himself; his hand fists his cock a few times, coating the slick of precum along his length before he lines the tip up with your entrance. His other hand’s flush against the inside of your thigh, a light pressure ensuring he always has enough space to fit himself between your legs — enough space to bottom out completely.

Mark’s considerate in his pace — maybe he knows he’s big, or maybe he’s just naturally careful, but he allows you the time to adjust to the stretch. Your nails almost puncture holes into the sheets, your grip so tight you wonder if it’s just to brace yourself or to hang onto the last threads of your sanity. He’s only halfway in, but you’re pushing fullness already, and he stops when his cock meets slight resistance, looking up at you in concern.

“You’re not—?”

“It doesn’t hurt,” you reassure him softly, and it’s true; the adjustment brings about slight discomfort, but it’s almost nothing to you — not compared to how much more you want. “Give me everything; I want all of you inside me.”

He pauses still, trying to read your expression for any lies, but when he can’t find any, he nods, his jaw tensing as he presses both palms against your thighs, keeping you open as much as possible to accommodate him. He doesn’t even stop when you whimper, feeling a tightening twitch in your pussy that also causes him to groan, until inch by inch, you’ve taken him, his hips flush against yours.

He doesn’t move — not yet, his eyes trained to where you’re connected like he’s once again unable to believe what he’s doing. You hear him mumble something to himself that you want to hear too; you squirm slightly, and he hisses through his teeth, looking up at you and finding the questioning in your face. He offers you a small smile, albeit somewhat strained.

“You’re tighter than I thought.”

“You’re bigger than I thought,” you hum, and neither of you is really to blame; the tight fit, the slight breathlessness it leaves you with, is perfect, you think — just what the both of you need. “Did you often think about fucking me?”

“Probably just as often as you’re making it sound like you thought about having me fuck you, I think.”

“Don’t get cocky,” you warn, but there’s no real heat in your voice.

“I won’t. But it makes me feel good — knowing you wanted me just as bad.”

“I still do.” Your gaze is lazy, a little hazy, even if you’re anticipating so much. Even just the feeling of Mark, throbbing inside you, is already slowly building the pleasure in your stomach again; you wonder if you could cum like this, given enough time, given enough patience. “I’m still waiting for you to fuck me. God, Mark— please.”

He chuckles good-naturedly, but even that’s drowned out by the long moan that leaves you once he draws his hips back; your body’s mildly shocked into a new adjustment, feeling a sudden emptiness that’s quickly mitigated by him filling you back up again. The pace is slow, almost torturous, although you know he isn’t doing it to get a rise out of you. He wants to ease you into speed, careful to help you adjust fully; his restraint in his movements is all the more evident on his face, in the furrowing of his brow and the determination in his gaze. Even with that, he can’t help what he says, so intent on controlling everything else he does that he lets his words spill out over your noises.

“Pretty,” he grunts out, and when your walls twitch around him, he accidentally thrusts sharper — just enough for you to whimper a little more loudly, and he has to reel his strength back again. “God, you’re beautiful. I should’ve told you sooner how much I wanted you. All those times I had to imagine you wrapped around me like this, wondering how much tighter you’d get once you came on my cock. All those times you drove me crazy while I was alone, when I could have been in you— I could have found out how good you felt. How pretty you’d look under me. And you’re still even prettier, even better than I ever dreamed.”

There’s an erratic melody of moans under his words, spilling from your mouth, and the fact that he riles himself up enough to increase his speed slightly doesn’t escape you. He’s a little less careful now, seemingly entranced by the view he gets, watching his shaft disappear into you only to come out glistening, and a part of you hates the idea of snapping out of his reverie, but the majority of your thoughts now lean towards wondering how much more you can get him to break free of his own self-imposed restrictions.

“I wanted to ask you so many times.” His eyes snap up, coming back into focus as he takes in the sight of you, flushed, hair tousled, gaze darkened. “Almost every day — I sat there, thinking about how all I could do was go home and fuck myself, frustrated you weren’t doing it for me. I should have taken you home with me right then and there — should have let you watch me touch myself thinking of you, should have let you touch me into cumming on your fingers.”

His breathing staggers as he leans in, eager to see you clearer, to hear your words, slowly becoming airier as they come out. For a moment, his gaze falls, torn between watching him move into you and meeting your eyes, but he ultimately chooses the latter once you speak up again, your tone even more hushed than before — like it’s meant to be a secret between just you and him.

“But there were times I wanted you even more than that, to the point that I almost felt like I couldn’t wait.” His eyes widen slightly, a few precious seconds of wondering if he understands what you mean, right before you confirm what he thinks. “I thought about making a move right then — I should have kissed you. I should have asked you.”

“Asked me what?” His voice is gruff with the effort to keep himself in check despite the fact that it’s clear to the both of you that it won’t last.

Your lazy smile’s illusionary; it hides the triumph swelling in your chest at knowing that he asked exactly what you hoped him to.

“I should have asked you to fuck me in front of everyone there.”

“God,” his eyes squeeze shut, his grip tightening. “Please. I can’t—”

“I should have bent over for you there, begged you to stretch me out right after our session,” you continue, bordering on merciless. “Mark, you don’t know — how badly I wanted to be on your lap, your cock in me, with everyone watching. How much I wanted you to fold me over that table, have people watch you pound me, have them listen to how good you make me feel. No one would ever even wonder; everyone would know I’m yours.”

You pause, allowing his eyes to fly open once again, and there’s a pleading in them that’s begging for release. Your eyes soften along with your voice, but you’re this far gone; you should at least see it through.

“And everyone would know you’re mine too.”

“Fuck,” he growls, and his hips stutter before new resolve fills him, his hips driving into you with the force of a strength you didn’t even know he had in him; your thighs tremble at the intensity, at the renewed impact, and feeling him drive his cock deeper into you has you crying out somewhere between a moan and a sob. “Fuck, _________. If I had known you’d thought about me like that — God.”

It’s your turn to shut your eyes for a while, allowing yourself to focus on his movements, breaching your tightness even faster now. You feel his hands skim up your sides again, fingers digging into the fabric of your bra and pulling them down until your bare tits are cupped in his hands. You shiver as his thumbs pass over your nipples, toying them into firm nubs.

“One day,” he hums out, his voice giving way to a slight hoarseness again. “I’ll do it. I’ll fuck you in front of him — in front of Youngho, in front of everyone. I’ll let them wonder how tight you are, how fucking warm you are, and I’ll let them leave knowing no one can know but me.”

It’ll never happen, you both know, but something about agreeing to something so absurd is what has your body almost shaking in longing, and it’s what causes him to press in deeper, folding your legs closer to your torso. Your hands do what little they can to help, keeping your thighs apart so as not to obstruct his view. You can tell it’s somehow not enough, not really all of what he wants when his brow furrows, and he shifts his weight, pushing into you at a new angle.

The stark difference has you gasping before you can control it. Immediately, Mark stops, and you’re already shaking your head before you even hear him say anything, presuming he’s paused out of concern. But before you can say you’re fine, his hushed voice cuts through the silence.

“Do that again.”

“What?”

“Do it again,” he mumbles, sounding distant. “Breathe in. Suck in your stomach.”

You’re not one to complain at such a simple request, albeit a little odd, so you comply, inhaling enough to tighten your torso. You’re surprised when you feel his cock twitch inside you, and you blow out the air alongside your question. “Mark, what are you—”

“I can see it,” he says in utter disbelief. “When you’re like this, I can — I can see my cock inside you. Just a bit.”

Your eyes follow his gaze, fixed just below your navel. From this angle, without any movement, you can’t see a thing, but you assume he’s not one to abandon fucking you so intently without good reason, so you press your palm against your stomach, just above your pelvis. Nothing really feels significantly out of place — up until the point when Mark draws his hips back again, and you feel the backward slide of his cock.

Your throat tightens, and you don’t really understand the feeling that spreads in you — a unique kind of arousal, knowing how deep he is inside you and how you’re taking all of him in despite the fit, because of the fit. Your hand falls away, allowing Mark’s to take its place, and he exerts just a little more pressure against your stomach in an attempt to get the most out of the experience when he thrusts back in. He groans, feeling the bulge push back up, and he quickly picks up the same pace, renewed in intensity so he can experience the rapid rise and fall he creates under his palm.

The faster he goes, the harder he presses, and you’re not sure if he knows it, but the onslaught of friction is what’s making you whine and squirm even more; you’re trapped, in the best way possible, in his hold, your hands back to clinging to the backs of your knees like a lifeline. Pressure from the outside builds on the slowly growing pressure inside, a knot in your pelvis that’s coiling so tightly you feel like you can’t breathe. If Mark notices how close you are, he doesn’t make it known; he’s busy feeling the outline of his cock against your stomach, and when he looks up at you again, his eyes are hazy.

“I would fuck you every single day, every single hour if I could feel this every time,” he whispers in a way that’s almost reverent. “Let me — I want to keep seeing you like this. I want to feel how deep I am inside you, too. Let me fuck you all the time.”

You nod, and your first attempt to say something is just another choked sob. When you do manage to get something out, it’s broken in tearful stutters. “M-Mark, I’m s— I’m so close… I’m — fuck—”

“Do it.” It’s not a harsh command but an urging made on short breath; through your misty vision, you see tension in Mark’s face and shoulders, like he’s bracing himself for something too. You barely register the ping in the back of your mind, too focused on the way he’s pressing his palm harder on your stomach, the way his hips quicken their pace — he’s close too. “Let me feel you — want to feel you cum all over my cock.”

You inhale, not to speak but to let out a loud whimper; your teeth dig into your lower lip as you try to stifle the moans that threaten to follow, but in the end, you whine out his name. Your thighs threaten to close, trembling as you finally reach your climax, an impossible explosion of pleasure, and you have to squeeze your eyes shut so that you don’t get dizzy from the stars that burst around your vision.

“Fuck.” Mark’s voice is strained, his one hand still firm against your stomach, the other sliding against the inside of your thigh. “You get even tighter — you feel even better when you cum.”

“Mark,” you hiccup, unable to do anything but flutter around him as he pistons harder into you. You don’t even know what you’re asking for when you say ‘please,’ but he somehow seems to, and you trust that your body’s saying something you can’t fully detect in this state, with your mind floating in the aftermath of ecstasy.

“I know,” his tone is soothing in contrast to the intensity of his thrusts. “I’ve got you. Just a little more — where do you want—?”

You blink slowly, his words sinking in at too leisurely a pace; his hips stutter dangerously before you’re able to respond. You barely even do that, your hand gently brushing over the one against your stomach, but he catches onto the meaning quickly enough.

You’ve never heard your name said in such a beautiful way; hearing him moaning it lowly is enough to make you whine again, and that noise is drawn out when he shifts and slips out of you fully. Your brain’s fuzzy, but your senses are at least sharp enough to drink in the perfect sight of him cumming — the way he leans his head back, jaw taut and eyes shut, as he pumps his cock and the heat of his release against your skin, pooling against your stomach once he finally cums. You see a shiver run through him, and then he’s still for a while in this position, the both of you basking in the afterglow of your highs.

You’re still weak and sensitive when Mark finally comes back down, a lucidity you don’t have right now coming back into his gaze. All you can do is smile when he leans in, catching your lips in another kiss — one that’s surprisingly soft and slow in comparison to everything else, but still leaves you breathless when he pulls away.

“Let me clean you up,” he murmurs, and you hum in agreement, your body limp as you watch him move off the bed and pull a handful of tissues from a box on the desk on the opposite wall. Even his hands are gentle when he scoops you up, shifting you until your head can lean against the pillows. They carry a scent you’re not used to, and your nose scrunches, rejecting the change, but that’s quickly overpowered by Mark’s familiar coffee-and-linen one when he presses next to you, careful as he wipes his cum off your stomach and thoroughly cleans between your thighs. From somewhere down below, you still hear hushed voices, and the front door slams shut again. People are still in the middle of leaving, but you know Youngho will likely run out of guests soon, and this makes you feel like the timing’s suddenly become urgent.

“I want to date you properly,” you start, slightly slurred but unmistakably blunt. Mark’s gaze snaps to yours, slightly amused, as he balls the tissues up in his fist. “You never asked me, so I’m asking you.”

He looks perplexed. “I just never thought you wanted me to, so I didn’t try.”

You reach up, locking your fingers into his hair and using your grip to pull him down. Your kiss is a little demanding, with a tinge of excess frustration, and he pulls away laughing lightly.

“Do you still think I don’t want you to?”

Mark hums thoughtfully. “I think you made a lot of things clear tonight. On my end, I was happy enough to be near you.” He smiles down at you, and in the faint light, you can see the flush slowly return to his cheeks. “Having you like this — dating you… there’s no way I’d say no.”

Your shoulders relax, satisfied with his answer, and you beam up at him — an act he easily returns, breathtaking and endearing all at once.

Moments later, you feel his arm wind around your waist; he allows you to lean into his side, his other hand crossing over his lap to stroke your thigh. His face turns, pressing a kiss to your hair, and you feel his lips move, hear the quick rush of a whisper. You tilt your head, eyes slightly wide in questioning. “What was that?”

He shakes his head at first, trying to pass it off as nothing. But when it’s clear your curiosity won’t abate, he chuckles softly, his hand gently cupping your chin so that you can only look at him. His thumb strokes your bottom lip gently, as if trying to coax the same words out of your mouth before he murmurs them to you one more time — and this time, he sounds fully convinced of them.

“You’re all mine.”

[jaylaxies]

RULE NUMBER 1: DON'T FALL IN LOVE

PAIRING: jake × fem!reader

GENRE/CW: smut, fake dating, fluff, slight angst, unprotected sex, drunk sex, blowjob, cunnilingus, penetration, usage of nicknames, themes of jealousy, mentions of sunghoon, heeseung, jay and mark, mentions of karina and yunjin, Imk if i missed anything!

WORD COUNT: 16.2k words

SYNOPSIS: your ex getting a girlfriend after just two weeks of breakup was enough to infuriate you to the point where you had to step up and make him regret breaking your heart. solution? fake date his best friend and make him jealous!

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni

A/N: hihi, my loves <3 anonnie requested for me to make a jake version of my jeno fic and the poll voted in support so here we are! (both fics are mine) i hope you guys enjoy it! all likes, comments, reblogs are highly appreciated! it keeps me motivated! iloveyou all and happy reading <33

Drink and forget. 

That was your plan for the night, and what’s a better way to achieve it than attending a party with your friends?

“Woah! Girl, slow down,” Yunjin scolded you, taking the shot glass out of your hand, “it’s been half an hour, Y/n. If you take another shot then you’re going back to the dorm.”

You groaned, “you know why I’m doing this Yun. I should’ve listened to you and Rina.”

Heeseung almost whined, “what’s the point anymore? You didn’t listen to them and still fell for him instead of me which resulted in him breaking your heart.” 

That earned him a smack on his head by Ningning, who now turned to you with a smile to lighten up your mood, “it’s been two weeks already, babe! Let’s forget about him and dance—” she said, her last word trailed off as she stared at the party entrance, the same time the music got loud. 

“I can’t believe he left so easily,” you whispered to yourself, gulping down your sentiments before paying attention to where your friends were staring, turning around to look at the entrance gate. 

There he was, the reason why you had been cooped up in your room, crying your heart out. The reason why you were drinking to numb your feelings, yet it all went downhill the second your eyes fell on him. 

Park Sunghoon. 

His walk was confident, his sculpted face looked more charming than ever as he sported his ever so appealing smirk looking indifferent to what had happened between you both. 

Topping it all, he had a girl clinging on to his arm, giggling as she pulled his arm to be pressed between her tits. She was clad in a mini dress which barely hid her ass and your friends couldn’t help but glance back at you with a nervous expression on their faces. 

Your face, however, remained stoic as you exhibited no sign of emotions despite feeling the anger burning up inside you, your fist clenching as you saw them walk towards your group. 

You couldn’t believe how Sunghoon was the same guy who used to give you shy smiles whenever your groups used to sit together as he was a close friend of Mark and Heeseung. 

Your friends had warned you, they did, but you were so blinded by his innocent face and pure smile which held secret promises of sincerity and a hope of something more. You took your time to notice that he cared for you, even waiting outside your classes with a bouquet at times. 

He had you swooning, ignoring the warnings and signs you should have seen coming. His sweet talk lured you right into his trap, and you found yourself saying yes to him in a heartbeat, marking the onset of your honeymoon phase. It was dreamy, to the point even your friends were convinced he had changed his ways and finally decided to settle down. 

Yet, deep inside you could feel your gut telling you that it won’t last, and he proved it just right when he forgot your one month anniversary, when he forgot the flavour of your favourite ice cream, when he didn’t bother calling you or taking you out on dates. 

When he admitted that he was bored and wanted out. 

It lasted for two months before he decided to break up, leaving you standing by yourself in your dorm, tears cascading down your face before your roommates heard a broken cry leave your mouth. Yunjin and Karina never left your side after that. 

Others tried to talk some sense into Sunghoon but it was as useful as a chocolate teapot. 

The hope of him regretting his decision went downhill when you saw him with this new girl, barely two weeks after your break up, the corner of his lips turned up into his usual smirk as he stood in front of you all, getting no smile or greetings yet he wasn’t one to mind. 

It was a rare sight to see his best friend frowning, nonetheless a frown of disappointment settled on Jake’s lips. 

Despite the loud music and the array of sweaty bodies dancing all over the room, you could feel the deafening silence in the circle of your group until a small whine came out of Sunghoon’s new girl toy, who pouted and whispered something in his ear, giving you the opportunity to look at Yunjin, who looked equally disgusted at the exchange. 

The girl must have asked him to introduce her because he nodded with his usual smile, turning around to face everyone as he spoke up, “hey guys! Meet my new girlfriend.” He motioned at her to speak up. 

Her fake giggle made you want to throw up, and you noticed how you weren’t the only one who felt this way as Heeseung excused himself from the conversation, rolling his eyes, which made you smile. 

That didn’t stop her, “hi guys!” She exclaimed, dragging out the hi, “I’m Linda.”

A series of snorts and coughed up laughs emerged as she proceeded to introduce herself, which included you who tried your best not to laugh at her oblivious state, completely disregarding the fact that she was not welcomed here. 

No matter how heartbroken you were, feeling like a fool as Sunghoon’s eyes took your outfit in wasn’t something you’d allow to happen. You didn’t bother excusing yourself as you left the circle, Yunjin following you in a beat as you just missed the whine Linda let out at your disrespectful actions. 

“The fucking audacity?” Yunjin was furious, your inner turmoil matching her expression, “I can’t believe he’s got the nerve to bring that bimbo here.”

You wasted no time in gulping down your fourth shot, no one bothered to stop you this time, knowing well you needed it as you tried to keep your tears at bay, it was too late to say you regretted saying yes to the player. 

Your body felt hot as your mind clouded into a hazier state, the confidence overpowered your painful state, your legs taking you to your friends who knew you were drunk beyond your capacity as you danced with them, rolling your body and letting yourself free. 

Yet the one thing that never left your mind was revenge. 

You wanted revenge. 

The booming voice of your alarm clock was successful in contributing to your raging headache as you opened your eyes with a deep groan, feeling disoriented and your hangover building up. 

“Fuck—” you muttered, shutting up your alarm. 

You were surprised to notice the medicines and a bottle of water that was kept on your nightstand, and you didn’t waste a second before gulping it down to help your headache as well as your parched throat. 

Being grateful that it was a Sunday, you slumped back down, trying to recall the night but the only memory that stayed in your head was the one of Linda squishing Sunghoon’s arm on her boobs. Your jaw clenched at how easily he moved on. 

Just then, Karina entered the room with a small smile. She was the only one who looked normal as she wasn’t present at the party yesterday. 

“Oh! I was just coming to wake you up. We’re all going out for brunch since no one is in their right mind to cook,” she informed you with an amused look, noticing how you were still wearing your dress from last night.  

A shower was exactly what you needed at the given point as you tried your best to get ready in fifteen minutes, your mind filled with ideas to take revenge, no matter how childish it sounded. But how? Well, searching the net didn’t help much. You weren’t going to post a bad picture of him in the name of revenge.  

It also wouldn’t work because it was impossible for him to have a bad picture, much to your dismay. 

You sighed, linking your arms with Yunjin and Karina as you got out of the car which the latter drove as you walked inside your usual diner to see everyone sitting together after aligning the tables. 

Heeseung pulled you to sit with him, he barely had his eyes open as Mark went on telling everyone how Heeseung got pissed drunk last night and made out with his knee while crying. 

The scene was easy to imagine which made you all burst into laughter at the poor boy who could only whine, “your knee tastes like mustard!” 

The laughter died down when you felt a repeat of yesterday happening yet again. It was a friends only brunch, but apparently, Sunghoon’s Linda didn’t get the memo. 

You could see his best friend trailing behind him yet again and you wondered how Jake handled Sunghoon despite his actions, which now made everyone uncomfortable to some extent. 

“Should I punch that asshole?” Heeseung asked, whispering in your ear and you sighed for the tenth time today, shaking your head as you completely ignored the two people and focused on eating and chatting with the ones who made you feel better, however, you could feel Sunghoon’s eyes staring at you. 

You just wanted to go back, already tired of the couple who couldn’t keep their public display of affection at bay. Now you were sure it wasn’t just the hangover that made you wanna puke. 

“I think I just lost my appetite,” you commented, causing the guy in front of you to snigger. 

You looked up for the first time to see Jake sitting opposite to you, sending you a smile once he saw you looking his way, which you returned easily. 

He usually kept to himself and he wasn’t the talkative one in the group. You had only talked to him while greeting him whenever your groups met, and once when Sunghoon got drunk beyond control at a party and so you had to call Jake to pick him up. Your interactions were limited to him because of one person. 

Your smile dropped the second you heard that annoying giggle again, Jake only looked your way with a small frown after as you averted your gaze back to your lap, gulping down your anger. 

The sound of a message notification from your phone grabbed your attention, and you opened it to find your group chat being active. 

Uni haters 🤬👊🏼 (minus Sunghoon) mOrk: uhh yo guys this is awkward 😬 heedungie: can’t believe i lost my title of annoying king to sunghoon’s gf??? 🤬 ningx2: she’s not even a guy yunjinnie: but she’s annoying ningx2: can’t argue w that 🤪 rinaa: let’s just eat and leave as soon as we can, the air is suffocating me 🤕 you: too late i can’t eat anymore 🤡 jay: im leaving i can’t w this bullshit, she didn’t even wear her wig properly  mOrk: holy shit? she’s got a wig on?!?! 😨 You laughed as you noticed Jay calling the waiter for the bill, which you all split as soon as you could and made your way out of the suffocating place, leaving the two in there as Jake too, decided to leave early. 

The drive back home was barely five minutes long, which soothed your nerves as you sang along to old songs Yunjin played on the speakers. 

They could notice how you looked exhausted, but it was more than that, they knew you had something in your mind and it was related to none other than your ex. 

“Okay, what’s going on?” Yunjin asked once you entered your shared dorm room. 

“What do you mean? I’m perfectly fine!” You tried laughing but it came out fake, causing Karina to raise her brows. 

“Spill. Right now,” she ordered, making you sit in between them as you clicked your tongue in annoyance, which wasn’t directed to them. 

“Fine. I want revenge,” you confessed, “he looks so happy and unbothered as if nothing happened? How can he say hi to me as if it’s the most casual thing in this world after he broke up with me saying he got bored? Ugh I hate his guts!” You ranted. 

“So, do you have any plans for that?” Yunjin asked. 

“Not really,” you muttered, “safari really recommended me to flirt with other guys in front of him,” you laughed, picking at the pillow cover of your couch. 

Yunjin refrained herself from snorting, “would he be jealous of a random guy though?” 

Karina laughed along, “yeah it’s not like you can date his best friend to make him jealous?” 

Your eyes widened, your head turning slowly as your lips curled into a devilish grin, immediately causing your friends to exchange nervous glances and speak up. 

“Don’t fucking tell me you’re considering this,” Karina blinked, incredulous. 

“Listen—” you started, only to be cut off midway. 

“No way,” a breathy laugh left Yunjin as she tried to contain her words and make you understand without any cussing. 

“It’s not a bad idea, okay?” You tried to convince her. 

“So what? Are you gonna seduce Jake?” She asked. 

You laughed which sounded more like a pfft, “of course not, silly! We’ll fake date each other!” You said, face shining as if you had presented the greatest idea known to mankind. 

“Be so for real right now,” Karina deadpanned. 

“Lord, Y/n think straight. This is real life, you’re not in a cheesy rom-com movie or a book,” Yunjin provided her input. 

“I know! But I just have to make him jealous for what? A month before he gets bored of that Linda girlie, and maybe Jake would agree to it too!” You nodded at the possibilities. 

“I can’t believe this is happening.” Yunjin rubbed her eyes, “me either,” Karina said as they both looked at you with an expression you couldn’t decipher. 

Your smile only got wider, “this is the best way to make it work!” You announced before looking at Karina sheepishly, “please send me Jake’s number Rina,” you said in a sweet voice, knowing she was the social butterfly of the university before you waved a goodbye at them, walking into your room, formulating a plan alongside. 

“This is gonna be a disaster, right?” Karina asked Yunjin, sighing. 

“Oh definitely, it’ll be a show.”

You walked in your room, contemplating if it would be alright to discuss this on text or if you should meet up with him, the latter option was more plausible yet scary because what if Jake laughed at you? What if he didn’t agree to work with you for the sake of his friendship. 

With such a stupefied idea, the possibilities were endless. Besides, you weren’t gonna ask for a lot, just a little hand holding, maybe hugging but nothing beyond that. You have to play pretend and smile a lot around each other. That would sell your drama and that would make Sunghoon jealous and realize that he lost a gem. 

You waited and thought about it for a few days before finally giving in. 

You took a deep breath, giving yourself a last nod of encouragement before you picked up your phone, saving the number Karina had forwarded you and clicking on his profile before sending a text. 

To: Jake🐾 You: heyy jake! 🥰 it’s Y/n, can we meet up?  You wondered if that emoji was too much, but you did not get enough time to ponder upon it as Jake texted you back in a minute.  Jake🐾:  Hey, Y/n :) sure, is everything okay? You: yess! i just need to talk to you about something :3 Jake🐾: How about Starbucks at 5?  You: perfect, i’ll be there ^^ Jake🐾: See you <3

Your mouth widened at the heart at the end of the text, before you brushed it off, thinking that he sent it by mistake, or to seem kind. You kept your phone on the nightstand, standing in front of your closet to select an outfit for your meeting. 

The plan was made, you just had to discuss it with Jake but you had never talked to him before, maybe that is why your heartbeat rose up. He was a good looking guy, there’s no denying that and you’ve heard that he was one of the smart ones too. 

You bit your lip as you straightened out your top, rethinking your life decisions. There was no backing out now. You looked in the mirror again, satisfied with your outfit and makeup. You knew you looked stunning as you grabbed your phone and bag before driving Karina’s car to your desired destination. 

The place was almost empty except for a few people who sat and worked on their laptops. It was easy to spot Jake, his dark hair shone under the dim lights of the cafe, he pushed his specs up for it to rest on his perfectly pointy nose, his lips parted ever so slightly as he focused on reading a book which you had never heard the name of. 

His aura looked calming, which boosted your confidence as you made your way towards the table he was sitting at. It was near the window, at the end of the cafe, which gave you enough privacy. Somehow the seating choice felt very Jake to you. 

Clearing your throat, you mustered up your courage, smiling slightly. “Hey, Jake!” You spoke, looking him in the eye. 

That was enough to capture his attention, he looked up at you with a smile that reached his eyes. 

He looked adorable. 

“Y/n! Hey, come sit please,” he said, gesturing at the seat on the opposite side of him. 

His eyes were soft as they looked at you sitting down, noticing a strand of hair which you tucked behind your ear, finally looking up at him, trying to find the right words to start the conversation. 

“Isn’t it weird how we’ve never talked before?” You chuckled, causing him to nod with a small laugh. 

“That’s true. How can I help you today?” He asked, keeping the book aside, carefully placing a bookmark before doing so. 

You kept your confident smile on, “I needed your help with this hypothesis I have,” you nodded as you explained it to him, and he was sure that the meet up was for academic purposes now, “so I need to take a little survey. Can you answer some questions for me?” You asked.

He nodded as you took out a notepad and pen from the bag you were carrying. 

“Sure, I’d be glad to help,” he smiled, eyes turning into soft crescents, which you stopped to stare for a second too long before realizing that he was waiting for your questions. 

You snapped out of your daze as you started scribbling on your notepad, “your full name?” 

“Don’t you know it?” He asked, confused. 

“Shh just answer, it’s the official protocol.” You huffed. 

“Sim Jaeyun.”

“Gender?” 

“Seriously—” 

“Just say it!” 

“Okay, fine. Male.”

“What’s your age?”

“I’m 20.”

“Introvert, extrovert or ambivert?”

“Introverted.”

“Marital status?”

“What?”

“Single? Okay. So on a scale of one to ten, how willing are you to help me get back at your best friend by being my fake boyfriend?” You asked, your smile never faltering. 

Jake blinked once. Then twice. “You lost me on that one,” he spoke up. 

His eyes displayed a mixture of shock and amusement, and maybe it was your figment of imagination that you saw him snigger but you weren’t the one to give up. 

Your lips jutted out in a pout, eyes shiny as you looked up at him, “c’mon! You won't let a girl beg for a little help, right? Especially when she was hurt so very deeply by the said ex, right?” 

Jake looked at you, your pout only deepening in the hopes of him accepting your idea. He only leaned on his arm, coming closer with an enthralled smile. 

“So what you’re suggesting here is that I fake date you to get back at my best friend for hurting you?” He confirmed and you nodded enthusiastically, “how’s it going to work?”

“Easy! Sunghoon isn’t the one who gets affected by a lot of things but if I date his best friend, that’s you, then he would get jealous and would regret breaking up with me,” you explained, “then I won’t take him back,” you announced, a triumphant smile on your face. 

Jake nodded, as if contemplating whether the offer was worth it, “what do I get out of it?” He asks. 

“A fake and pretty girlfriend of course,” you smiled, “and a chance to teach your best friend some manners,” you shrugged as if it was a win-win situation. 

Jake’s expression didn’t give out what he was thinking and you were patiently looking at him for some sort of answer, hopefully a positive one. 

“Do I have time to think?” He asks. 

“I would give you some but then I’m an anxious being,” you stated which elicited a laugh out of him as he never expected that coming out of you. 

But he had seen it all, the way Sunghoon behaved with you. He forgot all important dates, gave priority to his parties and the friend group which was potentially harmful for him, not to mention that his reason for breaking up was worse than the worst excuse, saying he got bored, only to find a girl two weeks later. Jake truly hated Linda as she accidentally broke his favourite vase while she made out with Sunghoon in their shared apartment. 

“Fine. How are we going to go about this?” Jake sighed, giving in finally as he saw your face practically lighting up with excitement. 

“Wait! Does this mean you’re in?” You asked just to be sure. 

“I don’t think I have any other option,” he teases but you don’t mind, you were simply enjoying the feeling of victory already, “so, now what?” He asks, finally realizing what he had gotten himself into. 

Fake dating. 

“Now, we’re going to set some ground rules, which of course, we’ll write down and sign as a contract,” you say, getting a page out of your notepad. 

“Like that one movie by Jenny Han?” He raised his brows. 

You stopped to think for a second, “yeah but it’s not like we’ll fall in love or something,” you shrugged with a laugh and he nodded. 

Y/n and Jake’s rules of fake dating! <3

Don’t fall in love 

Hand holding is okay

Drive to the uni together 

Nicknames are a must!

Kissing is not allowed!!

Don’t tell anyone except for Yunjin and Karina 

Break up once the goal is reached. 

Goal: make Sunghoon regret breaking up!! (Additional: get rid of Linda)

Signatures

You passed the sheet to Jake, “anything you’d like to change?” You asked as he read it all, and you noticed his brows slightly scrunching as he did so, exactly how they were scrunched when he was reading his book earlier. 

“I’m assuming you told your friends already,” he pointed out rule number six, to which you nodded sheepishly. 

“No kissing?” He asked, “you know no one’s gonna buy it if we don’t kiss, right? But of course, if you’re not comfortable then it’s fine.”

You bit your lower lip, wondering if you should consider it since he was right. Kissing is the easiest way to show affection, “I think you’re right, we’ll do it only when it’s required,” you said, and he nodded. 

You wondered how he was so calm with all of this, and you liked that he was asking questions about it all. 

“What’s with the nicknames?” He read rule number four. 

“Sunghoon is big on nicknames, I bet he calls you some too. He used to call me princess,” you sighed, remembering how it used to be. It hurt but the current hatred overtook that feeling. 

“Alright, sweetheart,” he whispered. 

Your eyes widened at his deep, accented tone, but he only smiled, “just practising,” he said and you nodded, gulping down. 

“Okay, so is the list done?” You inquired. 

“Yeah, I just have to add one thing,” he said, scribbling down another rule while you asked him random questions. 

“Have you ever dated before?” 

He shook his head, “you’re my first,” he winked, and you wondered how he was so good at flirting. 

“So—” you were going to ask another question but it seems like he knew what it was. 

“I know I’m silent but it doesn’t mean I’m inexperienced,” he stated, and you were amused as it was the first time he saw him being this way, “besides, this deal of ours would benefit me by driving the girls away.”

“Right,” you snickered, looking at what he had written, “why PDA?” you asked. 

“Because that’s the key to irritate Hoon, especially with Linda around who sees no other seat but Hoon’s lap,” he explained as your face scrunched at the image. 

“You really are smart,” you muttered, signing the contract before handing it to him, who was quick to sign it too before you extended your hand. 

His big hand encased yours in a handshake and you couldn’t help, but notice how his fingers were slender, veins visible on his hands as his grip was firm on your hand. 

You had sealed the deal. 

Y/n and Jake’s rules of fake dating! <3

Don’t fall in love 

Hand holding is okay

Drive to the uni together 

Nicknames are a must!

Kissing is not allowed!!

Don’t tell anyone except for Yunjin and Karina 

Break up once the goal is reached. 

PDA whenever the target is around!

Goal: make Sunghoon regret breaking up!! (Additional: get rid of Linda)

Y/n       Jake 

Signatures

“Listen, I know plans don’t work at times, there’s no reason to be sad over it—wait why are you smiling? There’s no way—” Yunjin asked as soon as you entered your dorm after your meeting with Jake.  

“He agreed,” you squealed. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Jake? The scholar guy who’s silent for the majority of the time, the guy who’s never had a girlfriend before, he agreed to fake date you?” Karina’s mouth was hung open and you only nodded excitedly. 

They both looked at each other before nodding, “now, you need a day out. We’re talking waxing, getting your hair done, and preferably your nails too since you’ve had that colour for too long and new clothes—” they made a list as they successfully dragged you out for all of it the next day, saying it’s a little something they’d want to contribute to your fake dating strategy. 

You didn’t mind a bit of it, being pampered was something you loved and it was long due as you had devoted all your time to crying after your breakup. 

It was when Monday rolled by when it finally settled in. You were going to pretend to date Jake Sim, in front of everyone. Your friends gave you last minute pep talks and you were more than glad that they had decided to help you dress up too. Just then your phone rang with a notification. 

Jake🐾: Morning, sunshine <3 Ready to sell our show?  You: good morning!! i'm more than ready! are you tho? 👀 Jake🐾: I’m already waiting for you outside, love ;)

You almost choked on the water you were drinking as you remembered the rules. 

You had to go to the university with him. 

“Bye guys! He’s here,” you said to your roommates, getting up and grabbing your bag as you made your way out in a hurry. 

Jake was standing by his car as he lived in the apartments and not the dorms, which was ten minutes away from your university campus. As for your dorms, they were a solid five minutes walk from your room. 

He looked up from your phone as he heard you walking closer to him, “hey,” he smiled. 

“So punctual, you’re right on time,” you said, “seems like you’re excited.”

He chuckled, opening the passenger seat door for you, “I can’t say I’m not excited to see other’s reactions,” he admitted as you sat down inside, thanking him softly. 

Sunghoon had never once opened the door for you. 

He got in the car, focusing on the road, “what’s the goal for today, princess?” He asked in his deep tone. 

You blamed your overly sensitive skin for the tingling you felt due to his voice, also sitting to notice how his face looked like a sculpture.  

“Soft launching our relationship,” you answered, clicking his picture. 

“In the cafeteria, during lunch then?” 

“Exactly! You just have to sit next to me and smile, that’ll be enough for Heeseung to suspect something,” you explained the basic plan just in time as you reached the university parking lot. 

“Why? Do I never smile?” He asked, getting his seatbelt off. 

“You do, but only to our group. Others are limited to a neutral expression only,” you pointed out as if you had analysed him fully. 

“Wait,” he stopped you from opening the car door, getting out and opening it for you with a tiny smile. 

Well that worked since people were nosy enough to notice a girl coming out of Jake’s car, which is a scene that never occurs. 

He politely offered you his hand as he helped you stand up. His hand was warm juxtaposing your cold ones, as he pulled you towards him, your shoulder pressed against his chest, which you could feel was chiselled, he definitely had pecks. 

“Smile, princess,” he whispered, and you overcame your state of hyper focus on him before putting on your best smile. 

“What are we doing?” You asked, your smile never faltering. 

Jake was somehow really good at looking at you with fondness in his eyes, he’d be a nice theatre guy if he takes up acting someday. 

“Dropping my girlfriend to her class, of course,” he said smoothly, and you started walking, hand in hand. 

“You’re pretty good at this. Are you sure it’s your first time?” You teased, noticing others staring at your hands. 

“Why? Do you think I’m a good boyfriend?” He asked back and you were truly amazed to see him retorting to your questions, given that you had barely seen him talk before. 

He felt your hand slipping and quickly intertwined your fingers. The gesture made sure to send a shiver down your spine. 

Sunghoon never held your hand while walking. 

“We’re just getting started, we’ll see how it goes,” you suggested, causing him to nod and continue the conversation you had left off. 

“So what you were saying back in the car is that people perceive me as someone who’s mean?” He tilted his head in question. 

“Of course not! They perceive you as someone who’s unapproachable.” You say seriously, you both stopped walking as you had reached the class. 

He blinked at you once. You blinked back. 

And you both burst out into soft laughter before he ruffled your hair slightly, bending down to your level, “study well, princess.” He winked, walking away to attend his own lecture. 

You tried your best to focus on the lecture as you jotted down the notes alongside, however the feeling of thrill kept your leg bouncing the entire time, your mind working out possible scenarios with everyone’s reactions. 

Soon, the classes were over and it was the time for your lunch break, which also meant that it was the time for you and Jake to act in front of everyone else. 

“We’ll cheer for you,” Karina said and you could only laugh at her expression. She still couldn’t believe that you were going through with this. 

From the entrance of the big cafeteria, you could easily spot the table where everyone had already assembled. 

“Ready?” A deep voice whispered in your ear, successfully causing you to jump back. 

But Jake was quick to grab your waist and pull you closer before you could trip, his eyes equally widened as yours, “god! You scared me,” you said, breathing in deeply to calm your heart. 

You could feel his scent infiltrating your senses, it was a perfect blend of woody and citrus, which was also paired with slight musk and mandarin. He smelled really good. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he said, letting go so you could stand straight. 

His eyes were full of worry, mouth slightly agape and you smiled to let him know you were okay. “Now, smile and talk,” you said as you both walked into the cafeteria. 

“Do I really never smile?” He asked you, “because people are staring.”

“I told you already! You smile only when you’re around our friends and we have never really talked before, at least in front of others,” you laughed. 

The whole group went silent as the two of you approached. Heeseung was the first one to raise his eyebrows as you sat down with him, but Jake didn’t sit next to Sunghoon. Instead, he sat down next to you. 

Linda, as usual, was sitting on Sunghoon’s lap, but that didn’t stop Hoon from staring at you and Jake. 

“Something is fishy,” Heeseung pointed out. 

“What is?” You asked, feigning innocence. 

Jake was silent when he wrapped his strong arm around your waist, pulling you slightly closer to him. You could feel your stomach tingling, and he simply smiled your way. 

“Firstly, I saw you getting out of Jake’s car in the morning,” Hee noted, “secondly, he was holding your hand and he walked you to the class. Thirdly, he’s been smiling nonstop.”

“Dude, no way!” Mark simply laughed, thinking it’s another one of Heeseung’s jokes. 

Ningning looked lost while Jay seemed to be focusing on your expression, “I don’t think it’s one of his jokes this time,” he said. 

“It’s really not!” Hee argued, glad that Jay was agreeing. 

“Does this mean—” Mark’s eyes widened. 

“—that they’re dating,” Yunjin said, acting her best as she widened her eyes, almost standing up at the confession. 

A series of gasps left their mouths, “what?” They collectively exclaimed. 

You tried your best to hold in your laugh as Jake turned to look at you, and from the side of your eyes, you could notice Sunghoon staring at you deeply with his jaw clenched. 

“They are! Look! He’s got his arm around her waist,” Heeseung exclaimed in an overdramatic way. 

“Guys—” you tried to say but Jake stopped you. 

“It’s fine, princess. They know now,” he smiled, pulling you even closer in a side hug. 

That caused Ningning, Mark and Heeseung to scream while Linda squealed, jumping on Hoon’s lap. 

Jake caressed the corner of your lip adoringly, “no need to hide it from our friends, baby,” he said before looking up, “Heeseung is right, we are dating.”

“What the fuck?”

“Since when?”

“Excuse me?”

“Did you fuck?”

All eyes turned to Ningning in disbelief as she asked the question, “what? I’m curious,” she shrugged, everyone looking at Sunghoon subtly to observe his reaction. 

You leaned into Jake’s chest, making yourself comfortable as you saw everyone chatting excitedly, your eyes settling on your ex for just a moment to see his furrowed brows and hardened eyes, a vein popping out from his neck. 

Day one, successful. 

“So you’re dating now, huh?” Sunghoon’s voice asked Jake as he entered their shared apartment. 

Sunghoon was sitting on the couch, face devoid of expressions as he asked the question. 

Jake chuckled softly, gripping his bag tighter as he walked into the room, standing in front of Sunghoon, “yeah. Who would’ve seen that coming?”

That caused the other boy to chuckle along, but it sounded strained, almost ending with a scoff, “I certainly didn’t see it coming.”

“You don’t sound happy for me,” Jake said, his tone teasing. 

Sunghoon was trying hard to keep his fake smile up, “What makes you think so?”

“Your smile. It’s strained,” Jake pointed out, grabbing the bottle of beer in front of Sunghoon and taking a sip out of it. 

Sunghoon clicked his tongue, looking Jake dead in the eye, “how can you date her? What happened to the bro code?” 

Jake remained calm, “why? Weren’t you the one who was done with her?”

“She’s my fucking ex, Jake,” he snapped. 

“That’s right, she’s your ex. She’s not yours anymore, she’s my girl.” Jake smiled, keeping the beer back on the table before walking away. 

“Oh! And, try to be happy for us now, Hoon. I don’t want my princess to be sad because of us, yeah?” Jake gave him his infamous eye smile before returning to his room.

The plan was working. 

You didn’t have morning classes the next day, which is why you had to walk to the main campus instead of getting a ride with your fake boyfriend. Yet you left your dorm an hour before your lecture to meet up with Jake as he had something to tell you. 

The one thing you liked about your University was its beauty, the gardens and fresh flowers only heightened up your spirits as you tried to find Jake in the garden of the STEM faculty, which was mostly empty. 

You spotted Jake waiting for you by a tree. He was reading the same book he had in the cafe the other day, you had also noticed how frequently he used to go to libraries during your relationship with Sunghoon. He loved to read. 

“Hey,” you said, standing in front of him with a smile. 

“Hey there, princess,” he replied, making you tilt your head. 

“Why are you calling me that? We’re alone right now,” you laughed. 

“For practice, of course,” he said in a beat before he handed you a cup of coffee, the exact one which you get from your favourite cafe nearby. 

“How’d you know?” You blink, surprised at his sweet gesture, also thanking him for it. 

He shrugged, “I’m known to be attentive,” he said. 

Sunghoon never knew your favourite drink. 

“Sunghoon talked to me yesterday,” he told you as you took a sip of your coffee. 

“Yeah?” You asked, stepping closer to hear what he had to say. 

“Yeah, he truly hates this setting. He asked me how I could date you.”

“Oh my god, he didn’t even hesitate? What did you say back then?” You asked. 

“Hold on—” he said, grabbing your waist and turning you around, his hand resting on the back of your head as he pushed you against the tree. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked, eyes widening as he leaned closer, making your heart beat out of your chest as you looked into his honey brown eyes which were surrounded by little specks of gold. 

“Sunghoon,” he breathed out, “he’s here and he’s looking our way.”  

To Sunghoon, it might look as if Jake and you are kissing but his lips are still inches away from yours, his scent pleasing your olfactory receptors as your ex only scoffed and walked away. 

“Oh,” you said in understanding. 

Jake only chuckled, “so, he went on saying how you are his ex and I shouldn’t be dating you,” he continued to tell you the story. 

Only Jake Sim could talk so calmly in such a compromising position. You wondered if Sunghoon had left already. 

“What did you reply?” You asked, voice coming out in a whisper as your body became aware of his hand which rested on your waist. 

“That you’re not his anymore,” he claimed, “that you’re mine now.” He said, breathily. 

You gulped down your nervousness. You knew it was a part of the act yet you couldn’t help but feel your skin tingling ever so slightly as you nodded. 

“Is he gone?” You asked, referring to Sunghoon. 

Jake blinked twice, finally looking up to see no sign of your ex anymore as he stepped back and you breathed in deeply. 

“The plan is working perfectly then,” you let out softly. 

He nodded, eyes crinkling. 

“I almost forgot,” you gasped, “Yunjin gave me this idea that we should go on a date!” 

“A date?” He asked, knowing that it’ll just be the two of you there. 

“Yes. It’s honestly just to make it believable. We can go out, click pictures and have a good time by eating good food,” you said, looking in his eyes for confirmation. 

“Sure, let’s do that,” he agreed, making you smile as you said you’d text him the details before rushing to your lecture. 

Jake simply leaned back, staring at your rushing figure with tender eyes. 

Another week had gone by swiftly and the only thing that bothered you were the girls who came up to you, asking if you were truly in a relationship with Jake, to which you said yes with the sweetest smile you could muster, crushing all their hopes of having a future with your fake boyfriend. 

Heeseung was hellbent on knowing more about this newfound relationship of yours, Ningning simply wanted to know if the calm and silent guy was good in bed, Yunjin and Karina were amazing at acting as if they didn’t know it was fake. Mark approached Jake as he tried to get a few tips out of him since Mark wanted to man up and confess to his crush. 

As for Sunghoon, you hadn’t seen him for the past two days. He didn’t sit with your group during lunch, nor was in any of your shared lectures. Even his girlfriend came to ask you guys if you had seen him. Only Jake knew that Sunghoon had spent the past two days drinking at their apartment. 

That was the least of your concerns as Ningning kept asking you random questions. 

“Favourite hair colour on guys?” She asked. 

“Black looks heavenly,” you admitted. 

“And haircut?” She asked Karina.

“Anything as long as it’s not a bowl cut,” she winced, distaste for that haircut clear on her face. 

“But guys, undercut looks so fucking hot, you have to admit that,” you pointed out and everyone seemed to agree with you. 

The conversation was casual but Jake decided to take it up a notch and surprise you with something you had decided upon, yet never executed. 

“Let’s go on a date today, baby,” Jake suggested, again making everyone stop and stare at you both. 

“Dude, how are you so cool?” Mark whined, wanting to do the same with his crush. 

“I thought you were shy, but I guess the silent ones are the freakiest,” Ningning commented. 

“He’s literally talking about a date, Ning,” you sighed. 

“I can't believe he took you away from me,” Heeseung shook his head as you gave him a look. 

“You guys were never together in the first place,” Karina reminded him, and he sobbed dramatically. 

Jake looked at you expectantly, his eyes seemed bigger than usual and you could swear they were shining just the perfect amount. It somehow made you look away, biting your lower lip in the process before you nodded. 

“I’d love to,” you admitted. 

“Perfect, I’ll pick you up at five,” he said, grabbing his bag and swinging it on his right shoulder. 

He noticed how you looked happy this particular day, your face had a certain kind of glow to it and your smile was brighter. It seemed as if you were doing better now, and your friends really loved to see you this way. 

He bent down, touching your cheek tenderly, pressing his lips on your forehead ever so gently, making your eyes flutter close at the soothing sensation. 

“See you then, princess,” he whispered, looking at you one last time before going to attend his next lecture. 

“Did he just?” Heeseung covered his mouth. 

You were just as shocked as the others, not expecting any kind of PDA at all, especially when Sunghoon wasn’t around. That was the first time he had done it. You bit your lip yet again, looking down at your lap, trying to contain your smile. 

Yunjin and Karina looked at you before looking at each other with a knowing look. 

Then they smiled, wishing for the best.  

“What do I even wear?” You huff in distress, looking at your roommates who looked like statues seeing your bed full of random clothes tossed around. 

“You can simply ask him where you guys are gonna go, it’s not like you’re actually dating and it’s a surprise,” Karina pointed out. 

You stopped, saying, “you’re right actually,” but then you whined, “I don’t wanna ask him such simple things, help me out guys.”

Yunjin sighed, mustering her stylist expression as she gave your wardrobe and your bed a once over, quickly getting all articles of clothing she wanted before handing them over to you, solving your problem in two minutes maximum. 

“Don’t you think this dress is a little fancy? I mean, we’re probably going to a local cafe,” You asked, cocking your brow. 

“Just trust me and wear this babygirl,” Yunjin said, using her usual nicknames. 

You had just finished applying your lip oil, concluding your makeup as you got a notification from Jake saying he was outside your dorm. 

You smiled unknowingly at the text, a feeling of excitement, or rather, giddiness creeping up your stomach as you bid your roommates goodbye, grabbing your purse and not forgetting to thank them for tolerating your tantrums. 

Walking out of the dorm and towards the exit, you stopped as you saw Jake leaning against his car, which wasn’t an unusual sight for you, however, you had never expected to see him in a black jacket, thinking that he’d be clad in his usual hoodies. 

His hair was neatly trimmed as he sported an undercut, which he didn’t have in the morning, meaning he got it cut right after your classes. 

Right after you revealed your liking for the particular haircut. 

“Jake,” you whispered, walking closer to him, noticing how he wasn’t wearing his usual specs either, probably opting for the lenses instead. 

He was lost in his own thoughts, his eyes fixated on the flower he held in his hand, completely immersed in his thoughts before he looked up to see you standing right in front of him. 

“Y/n,” he murmured, his heart pounding slightly as he noticed the light breeze gently swaying the hem of your dress, “you look beautiful,” he smiled, dissipating your jittering nerves and sending a wave of warmth through your chest. 

“You look so—” you tried to find the right word, eyes never leaving his face as you had never seen him look so bold before, “captivating.”

He laughed at your statement, “here,” he said, extending his arm and passing you the flower he had gotten for you, the tips of your fingers brushed against his ever so slightly, “glad I could captivate you, sweetheart,” he whispered, winking at you. 

You were left stunned, wondering where did he get his sudden boost of confidence from as you sat inside his car, watching him start the car, gripping the steering wheel normally, yet it made the veins of his hands pop out. 

You cleared your throat, “so, where are you taking me today?” You asked him. 

“Well, that’s something you’ll have to wait and see,” he teased, building up your anticipation. 

“Okay, is it far though?” You asked, falling into a conversation with him so easily, and he told you it would be an hour long drive, making you wonder where you were off to. 

There was something so endearing about others sharing their favourite things and talking about them, you loved to hear all of it and you felt even better seeing Jake comfortable around you as he went on telling you about the books he’d been reading and recommending the ones you’d like. 

One hour felt like a few minutes with him, time passing by effortlessly. Your lips parted in surprise once you saw where you were.

It was the fancy restaurant you’d been wishing to visit from the past year, but never got a chance to do so, “oh my god, I really wanted to come here to eat,” you told him, smile brightening and you were glad you had dressed up for it. 

“I know,” he said, extending his arm for you to hold. 

You looked at him, incredulous, “how?” 

“I asked Karina,” he admitted as you held on to his arm softly. 

You were thoroughly surprised at his revelation, knowing that he could’ve taken you to any normal place nearby but he chose this. You were in awe at how beautiful the interior was as you focused on the little details here and there. 

“You didn’t have to do so much, Jake,” you whispered, loving how his skin shone under the light of the chandelier. 

He shook his head softly, eyes never leaving your face, “I know it’s a fake date but it doesn’t mean that I’ll take you to our usual cafés, you deserve more than that.”

You breathed in softly, breaking eye contact and looking at your fiddling fingers. You felt as if your heart was beating out of your chest. Everything he did felt so genuine and well thought of. He cared about your likes and dislikes, he always took a note of your preferences. 

Sunghoon never did that. 

“You’re too fucking sweet,” you muttered under your breath so he can’t hear it. 

“Hm?” He asked, menu in his hands as he scanned it thoroughly for all possible options. 

“Nothing,” you smiled, getting your phone out and clicking a few candid pictures of him, which did capture his attention. 

“What’s that for?” He looked at you with big eyes, his face giving out the cutest expressions despite him looking tough in his undercut and newfound style. 

“Why not? Can’t post my boyfriend on my story now?” You asked cheekily. 

It was something you both had decided you’d do, the likes and replies flooded in soon as your friends were flabbergasted at the fact that Jake had cut his hair and dressed up so well. 

You both decided upon the dishes you wished to have and the waiter noted it down kindly, leaving you two alone to talk after. 

“Won’t you post me too?” You asked. 

“I will, you just have to wait for a while. I promise it’ll be the prettiest picture ever,” he said, full of confidence. 

“Well, that’s a challenge then because I don’t usually like my photos,” you smirked and he leaned in. 

“We’ll see how that goes,” he challenged. 

It was great that you could share any kind of emotions with him, whether it was you being goofy, him being silent, or you being nervous as he turns to be confident. It was a mix of everything. 

Soon, your food was served to you and even the scent of the scrumptious meal was enough to make your mouth water as you hummed with delight with just one bite, saying it melted just perfectly in your mouth. 

You didn’t notice him watching your eager face, loving your reaction as he felt like he did the right thing bringing you here. Until you catch him watching you. 

“Is there something on my face?” You asked cluelessly, pouting as you ate another bite. 

“Actually, yeah there is,” he said, leaning closer to caress the corner of your lip with his thumb, brushing away the crumbs gently as you simply sat with your heart pounding at his gesture. Even more so when he smiled, licking his thumb, “all done.” 

“You’re really so good at it,” you muttered, and this time he heard it. 

“At what?”

“If you do this,” you said, gesturing at your lip, “to any girl then she’ll definitely swoon over you.”

He raised his brow, “why? Did you like it that much?” 

An awkward chuckle left your mouth as you tried to dismiss his question, “I’m just saying,” you state, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. 

He only laughed, “alright, sweetheart.”

You whined, and the other families around looked at you both with soft eyes, thinking you both were cute together as his eyes turned into crescents at your behaviour. 

You couldn’t remember the last time you felt so at ease being out with someone. That wasn’t just all, Jake insisted on taking you to another place for a little walk. Night had fallen as you walked together on a rather empty bridge, yet it was a pretty sight—water reflecting the glistening stars along with the crescent moon. 

“How’s Sunghoon?” You asked all of a sudden, not noticing Jake’s smile faltering for a fraction of a second. 

“He’s coping in his own way. I bet he’ll be back to uni tomorrow. But he definitely regrets it,” Jake lets out slowly, “isn’t that your goal?” 

You stop walking, trying to find the right words, “yeah,” you whispered,  “but it’s not over until he confronts me himself. I need some closure,” you said, looking at him with a teasing smile now, “why? Don’t wanna be with me anymore?” 

He licked his lips, biting his tongue as he smiled, which you noticed was another habit of his, “of course not. It’s good to have someone to talk to.”

“Yeah? Then tell me more about you,” you said, looking at the water as you folded your arms over the railing. 

He was silent for a few seconds, joining you to lean on the railing, “I’ve always been the shy kid I guess. I was the one who always used to read sitting in the corner of a class and so, I never really had friends.”

You didn’t glance at him, letting him speak freely. Jake was one of the kindest souls you had ever met and it was obvious even in the little time you had known him. You wanted him to be happy. 

“Hoon was my friend ever since we were kids, our families are really close so he was forced to befriend me. He didn’t mind it, he was the kindest child and helped me talk to others, he was also the reason why I met you guys,” he sighed, “Hoon was always first when it came to everything, he led the way for me and I let him do that each time.” He turned his head, looking your way as he whispered, “until I realized I should’ve been the first this one time.”

You couldn’t understand what he was referring to, yet you understood that Sunghoon was dear to him, however his recent actions caused him to drift apart from Jake. 

A flash of light took you out of your trance. Jake had clicked your picture, “show!” You said, almost jumping closer to him and his shoulders rose up as he laughed when you tried to get his phone from his hands. 

“You’ll see when I post it,” he said. 

You whined again, “but what if I look bad in the picture?”

“You can’t ever look bad, sweetheart,” he said earnestly and you could feel your cheeks heating up as you closed your mouth shut, biting your lip as you looked away shyly. 

He chuckled, “let’s get you home now.”

You checked the time on your wristwatch, “oh, yeah. It’s late.”

You both started walking towards his car, getting off the bridge as Jake saw you shiver with the sudden gust of chilly air hitting you. 

He wasted no time in getting his jacket off and passing it to you, “here, it’s cold.”

Your eyes widened to see him wearing nothing but a white tank underneath which displayed his muscles as the moonlight accentuated it further. You never knew he worked out, your eyes travelling to his arms which were veiny. 

Jake looked unreal, almost like the bad boys you’d see in a movie but his well sculpted face made him look like a Greek god. He really had it all. 

You didn’t even notice you had stopped walking as Jake wrapped his jacket around your figure, smiling slightly as you reached the car, his scent enveloped you aa you hugged the jacket closer to you.  

“T—thank you,” you spoke, mentally slapping yourself for stuttering. 

“Can’t let my girlfriend freeze now, can I?” He stated more than asked. 

He helped you get in the car by opening the door, which he always did. It was another habit of his which you found endearing. He got in the car soon, looking your way before he leaned in all of a sudden, his face inches away from yours, causing you to stop breathing for a few seconds. 

The shape of his lips was beautiful. 

He leaned back soon, dragging the seatbelt with him as he secured you in your seat. The proximity reminded you of how he kissed your forehead in the morning, and your mouth worked before your mind could as you asked him about it. 

“Uh, so—why did you kiss my forehead in the morning?” You inquired. 

He most certainly was not expecting that question, and his expression gave it away, “your friends were watching,” he stated, licking his lips, “and Mark was suspicious as we never kissed before or did anything other than hand holding,” he explained. 

“Did he ask you about it?” You questioned, hugging the jacket closer to your body. 

Jake hummed as a reply, seeing you get comfortable on the seat with droopy eyelids, he knew you were going to fall asleep soon and he let you. 

His heart could only take so much for one day. 

He made sure to drive safe, glancing at your sleeping figure from time to time and he swore you looked like a baby when you slept. 

You reached back safely and he stopped the car, he didn’t wish to wake you up when you looked so at peace. He called out your name softly, coming closer to pat your shoulder. 

You stirred in your sleep, opening your eyes slowly to find Jake close to you. 

“We’re here,” he spoke, voice low. 

“Oh,” you blinked a few times, trying to adjust to the street lights as you got out of the car, not expecting Jake to get out along with you. 

You looked at him in question and he just shrugged, his muscles flexing in the process, “let me walk you to your door,” he said. 

Sunghoon never walked you to your door. 

“Don’t you ever get tired of being a gentleman?” You asked with an amused smile. 

“Not when it comes to you,” he uttered quietly. 

Heat rushed up the tip of your ears now that you stood in front of him, “Jake—” you whispered, “thank you so much for today. I can’t remember the last time I had this much fun on a date.”

A fake date, you reminded yourself. 

“It’s good to see you happy,” he took a step closer, “good night, princess.”

He was gentle as he slowly brushed his fingers on your forehead to tuck your hair behind your ear, he leaned in closer, his lips grazing your forehead in a featherlight kiss. You closed your eyes, the warmth of his kiss lingering on your skin as he bid goodbye to you. 

He was walking away by the time you could open your eyes and breathe again, not even bothering to ask for his jacket back from you. 

You looked around your place once to see if your friends were watching this time. 

They weren’t. 

Your room had a tranquil atmosphere as the moonlight coming from the window lit it up. Your roommates were already asleep in their respective rooms as you got changed into your sleepwear and took your makeup off, carefully keeping Jake’s jacket on the bed, not once thinking that your pillow would exude a scent like him too. 

It was hard to sleep, as if you had a feeling of giddiness bubbling up inside of you. Even after tossing and turning, you couldn’t find a perfect position to sleep, not to mention how your mind had created a montage of today’s date, replaying it over and over. 

You sighed, staring at the ceiling before closing your eyes shut, hoping you’d get some sleep before waking up for Uni in the morning. And slowly, you drifted to dreamland with Jake’s scent lingering in the air. 

Your alarm clock was your enemy. You really needed a few more minutes to catch up on your sleep, grabbing your phone to see if there’s something that could drive your sleepiness away. 

There was. 

Your picture was the first thing you saw when you opened Instagram, it was posted by Jake instead of being put up as a story, which was unusual since he only had two pictures on his account—one of him and the other one of his pet dog. 

A soft gasp left your mouth, heart thumping out of your chest as you saw the picture. The flash made you glow and you had the tiniest hint of a smile on your face as you looked at the night sky. 

It was indeed your prettiest picture anyone had ever captured, it was exactly what Jake had promised. 

The caption, however, made you turn around and grab your pillow as you screamed into it, kicking your feet. 

My girl, that’s what he wrote in his caption, paired with a red heart. 

You knew it was for show but that didn’t stop the butterflies in your stomach from going feral. It felt too real, the gestures, the little things. It felt more real than your previous real relationship and you weren’t sure how you felt about it. 

It was another day where you had afternoon classes, and so you did not go to the uni with Jake. You had not liked or commented on the picture yet, pondering about how to go on about this. 

Jake had texted you twice, wishing you a good morning first and then asking if you had your lunch yet. You were tempted to reply but first, you gained a slight amount of courage and liked his post. 

You typed a comment with the first thing that came to your mind. 

You’re mine forever ❤️

Your cheeks burned up as you kept your phone down on one of the picnic benches kept around the campus, as that was the exact place you were sitting at after your classes had ended. 

A very whiny and feminine voice called out your name, and you looked up to see Linda along with your ex and your fake boyfriend. The smile on her face was sickening and you wondered what they were doing together. 

Yet again, you did not think twice before getting up and burying your face in Jake’s chest, wrapping your arms around him in an embrace. This shocked Jake, you could feel him go still for a negligible second before a deep laugh boomed up his chest, you could feel him vibrate as he wrapped his arms around your frame. 

“Missed me that much, baby?” He asked, patting your head. 

Sunghoon watched the scene unfold with dark eyes. 

“I missed you so much, baby,” you whispered. 

It was the first time you had used a nickname on anyone, heck you never even called Sunghoon that. 

A cough separated you both and now you couldn’t muster up enough courage to look at Jake while he couldn’t stop looking your way. 

“Linda wants to have lunch together, like a double date,” Jake told you and you saw Linda nod excitedly. 

“It’s so romantic! We even got the lunch packed, see!” She raised her hand to show you two bags which probably had the lunch she was talking about. 

This day couldn’t have gotten more weird. 

“That sounds great!” You tried to sound cheerful but it only came out awkward. 

Good for you, Linda didn’t pick up your tone and clapped excitedly, “we only have thirty minutes because I have my salon appointment after so let’s be fast,” she spoke in a go. 

You noticed Jake sporting the same look of confusion as you, it was an awkward situation indeed. Sunghoon didn’t say a word, only observing you and Jake.  

Jake took the paper bag and got the packed lunches out. He had gotten you your favourite salad with grilled chicken as he opted to get the same dish for himself, not forgetting to get you coke, which you preferred to drink while eating. 

He really paid a lot of attention to your likes and dislikes. 

Linda really couldn’t read the room as she never once stopped talking about this new lingerie set she got for herself, “Hoonie liked it too,” she giggled and you tried to focus on eating, not having it in you to picture it in your mind.  

“I’ve told you not to call me that,” he spoke, his words harsh. 

That was the first time he opened his mouth ever since you started eating. Linda didn’t care, pouting slightly as she started talking again, “let’s play couples quiz!” She squealed. 

You could feel your headache growing with her high pitched voice. 

“Jake, when’s Y/n’s birthday?” She asked. 

He fixed his gaze on you, answering the question correctly. You tried not to be shocked, displaying your sweet smile for them. He actually knew a lot about you, the eye contact made you bite your lower lip before you asked. 

“Sunghoon, when’s Linda’s birthday?” You asked now, questioning him directly, which he did not expect. 

“Third of February,” he said and Linda gasped, offended. 

“That’s not my birthday!” She almost screamed, bickering with him for a solid minute as Jake passed you a few tissues, seeing the salad get on your fingers. 

“Okay, next question,” she said and she kept on asking him questions as if it was a rapid fire round and Jake answered each of them correctly. Your heart was thumping out of your chest, he knew your favourite colour, your favourite tv show and singer, your favourite cake and song. 

Sunghoon knew nothing. 

Linda didn’t know a thing about Sunghoon either, just like he never knew a thing about Linda. 

Sunghoon slammed his fist on the table, getting up and walking away without any second glance, you almost jumped with how loud the sound was, your hand resting on top of your chest to soothe your nerves. 

Linda ran after him, or rather she tried to run after him in her heels. 

“Are you okay?” Jake asked you softly, his fingers caressing your cheek as he searched your face for any kind of discomfort. 

You nodded, gulping and looking away. 

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Your skin wouldn’t stop tingling where he had touched you, it was almost impossible for you to breathe when he was so close to you. 

“Y—yeah, I’m okay. I think I should go and get my assignments done now, yeah,” you said, fumbling over your words as Jake frowned, wondering if he did something wrong. 

“Y/n—”

“I’ll see you tomorrow!” You waved at him, almost running away, leaving him with a dejected sigh. 

Of course, you didn’t have to answer his questions, he reminded himself. It was a fake relationship after all. 

So, while you laid in your bed with your pillow clutched close to your chest, Jake stood in front of Sunghoon at their apartment. 

“Since when do you eat salad?” Sunghoon asked, tone somewhat disappointing. laced with a hint of jealousy. 

“Y/n likes it,” Jake smiled softly, “It was hard not to like it after.”

“You hated coffee,” Sunghoon almost accused. 

“I like it now, it’s normal to develop your taste,” Jake replied calmly. 

“You’ve never gone on a date before, you’ve never had this kind of hairstyle before. You’re changing yourself and for what?” Sunghoon sighed, shoulders dropping when he accused him again. 

Jake only bit his lip, “love does things to you and I think I'm changing for the better.”

Love. 

That’s all Sunghoon had to hear before leaving the room. 

“Why are you sulking, babygirl?” Yunjin asked you the next day, seeing you sitting with your blanket wrapped around you, a piece of chip in your mouth as you lazily snacked on it. 

“Nothing,” you mumbled, hiding your face. 

Yunjin rolled her eyes, “you were squealing in the morning yesterday, what changed?” 

You sighed deeply, “I guess I’m just feeling a bit down today,” you shrugged. 

She sat down on the bed, right in front of you before pulling you in the most warm and comfortable hug. It was something you appreciated even more this particular day. You felt conflicted with your feelings. 

It’s the little things, it’s always the little things when it comes to Jake, it creates a bigger picture for him. But for Sunghoon, it was only the larger picture with no elements supporting it. 

“That’s the problem, babygirl. I’m not gonna let you drown in your own blanket all evening. You’re coming with me to the party,” Yunjin stated, opening your closet to select an outfit for you already. 

Turns out that Yunjin can be a great manipulator because there was no way you’d be standing in the middle of a party with a vodka shot in your hand otherwise. 

Maybe drinking would help you, it always does. It’s almost pathetic how you’re ready to get shitfaced for a whole night just to get rid of intrusive thoughts, the thoughts which consisted of Jake and Jake only. 

You drank that shot in a go, getting another one as Heeseung tried to stop you but to no avail. Once you had taken three shots, all in a row, you turned around to find Karina, who looked as if she spent a while trying to find you. 

“Y/n! Where have you been?” She asked, grabbing your hand, “come, we’re gonna play upstairs.” Without much fighting, she dragged you upstairs and Heeseung followed behind. 

You wondered what Jake would be doing right now. 

The multicoloured lights were shining bright as they covered the expanse of the whole staircase, which you had trouble walking up, courtesy of your heels and a very short dress. 

Karina opened the door to a room and your eyes immediately scanned the surroundings to understand who you were going to deal with tonight. 

It was your whole friend group and some of their mutual friends too, however that wasn’t why you stood frozen in your spot at the given moment. 

Jake Sim, the guy you had been avoiding since yesterday, was sitting in the same circle, the bean bags, sofas and chairs were arranged to be that way, as he sipped on a can of beer which he held in his slender fingers. 

Seeing him at the party was shocking enough as he rarely attended any, but to add on to it, he was all dressed up as well. 

He sipped on the drink, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he gulped. The side angle gave you the best view of his undercut and defined jawline, your eyes travelling down to his chest, which was exposed as the top few buttons of his white shirt were unbuttoned, a black leather jacket covering him up as he also sported a few rings on his long, veiny fingers, a necklace gracing his slender neck. 

You almost forgot how to breathe until Karina pushed you forward, which gained the attention of Jake, who smiled your way as he expected you to come over to him. 

Karina and Yunjin high fived in the background, meaning; it was their plan for you both to meet at the party. 

Your heels clicked as you walked towards him, it was as if you both were the only ones in the room at the given moment. He wasn’t being subtle as he stared at you, especially how he looked up when you stood next to him. 

“Baby,” he whispered, pulling you to him—which was something you never expected. 

You landed straight on his lap, his arm wrapped around you securely as the other one rested on your thigh, covering up your skin which was showing, courtesy of your short dress. 

Your mind blanked, you couldn’t think anymore as goosebumps rose up your arms when he spoke in his deep voice, the others also stopped to stare at you both as he was not the one to show affection in public. 

Heeseung and Yunjin teased you both, yet that wasn’t something you paid much attention to. You didn’t even see Sunghoon sitting in the same room, as if he wasn’t anyone to you anymore. 

“I missed you so fucking much,” he whispered, making you sit close to him, your hand working on its own as it held on to his broad shoulder for support. 

You should have been used to this whole fake dating plan of yours, yet you couldn’t ever get used to Jake’s constant surprises. It didn’t feel like it was fake when it came to him and it most certainly wasn’t a help how you could feel the alcohol kicking in, his hand felt warm on your cold skin. 

“Jake,” you whispered, looking at him with hooded eyes. 

However, you never got to say anything further as others had decided on playing a classic game of twenty one dares. 

The first dare went to Mark, who was given the dare to kiss his crush who sat right next to him. 

“Why were you avoiding me all day?” Jake asked in a whisper when everyone else was busy cheering for Mark. 

You had no answer for it, nor did you have any way to control your heart which was thumping out of your rib cage with the proximity. 

You breathed out with a chuckle which sounded forced, grabbing a beer can which was on the table in front of you, “avoiding you? Why would I?” You asked, looking away. 

That wasn’t much help as he was quick to grab your chin, making you look his way again, “did I do something wrong?” 

His actions were bold, yet his voice was sweet and full of concern. You shook your head, resting it on his shoulder, “of course not,” you whispered, not having it in you to look at him, “you’re really perfect, Jake.”

He wasn’t given any time to react as others cheered. 

Apparently, it was your turn to get a dare and the evil smile on Jay’s face gave it all away, as if he knew exactly what was going on between you two. 

“I dare you to kiss Jake,” he smirked as everyone minus Sunghoon clapped, Mark nodding, still red from the kiss. 

“True, we’ve never seen you kiss,” Hee muttered in realization. 

You stopped breathing, seeing everyone cheering for you. You had fake kissed him when Sunghoon was watching that one day in the lawns, yet this was a whole different story when they were demanding an actual kiss from you both. 

Jake’s hand tightened around your waist, your dazed eyes taking in his expression as he raised his hand to cup your cheek, caressing the corner of your lips gently, as if he was asking for your permission. 

You knew you were drunk, yet all your senses made you feel as though you were the sanest person alive. The anticipation felt so painful and you could feel Sunghoon’s stare on you both. 

With a tender sigh, your eyes closed shut as you grabbed the collar of his jacket, pulling him into you. 

Your lips collided in a fervent kiss, your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging it ever so slightly, causing him to groan into your mouth as his hand supported the back of your head, tilting it slightly as your desire and passion fused together, transcending your surroundings. 

You couldn’t hear the whistling or screaming around your surroundings, your mind completely gave in to the pretty boy, who was kissing you like his life depended upon it. 

His lips were soft, perfectly moulding against yours as you moved them in harmony, letting the sheer pleasure take over your senses to the point you couldn’t differentiate between whether you were drunk which made you feel as if you were in the state of unadulterated ecstasy or it was simply Jake’s effect on your body. 

You didn’t pay attention to Sunghoon, who threw the beer can on the floor, walking away from the room, nor did you care about Linda who ran after him. 

All you knew was that Jake Sim was kissing you and he was exceptionally amazing at it. 

He squeezes your waist as you gasped, letting him bite your lower lip, lacking his usual self control as he mentally claimed you to be too intoxicating for him. 

“Hey! Get a fucking room!” Jay shouted. 

That was enough for you to break the kiss, your eyes still closed as your chest heaved up and down, blood rushing to your cheeks as you felt tingly all over, the shiver going down your spine all the way to your abdomen. 

Jake was already staring at you by the time your eyes fluttered open. His lips looked plump, slightly swollen from how you had kissed him, the veins on his neck seemed even more prominent but his eyes—they were dark, laced with lust. 

He didn’t wish to stop. 

You didn’t want him to stop. 

He got up from the chair, making you stand up along with him, his fingers quick to intertwine with yours as he pulled you with him, your wide eyes drifting to look at Karina who only winked at you, giving a thumbs up alongside it. 

“Jake,” you breathed, following him out and into an empty room, which he locked before pushing you against the wooden door. 

You could barely stand given how weak your knees felt at that exact moment. It most certainly didn’t help that Jake bent down to your level, the dim lights of the room making his skin shine as he asked you again. 

“Why were you avoiding me, Y/n?” His tone gave you goosebumps when you heard your name roll out of his tongue. 

Forming sentences felt like a tough job when his lips were borderline touching yours, “because,” you whispered mindlessly, wrapping your arms around his neck, “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” Your voice was quiet, just like the room, which made it sound louder than intended as you looked him up through your lashes. 

His jaw was clenched, you could notice him breathing deep, his hold on you tight and you chuckled deeply, alcohol taking over your senses, “I can’t stop thinking of you, Jaeyun.”

You didn’t let him reply before you pressed your lips onto his, your bodies pressed against each other, mouths moving as your lips melded and parted, his hands all over your body, every touch igniting a spark in you. 

He tapped your thigh twice and you got the memo, jumping into his arms as he picked you up with ease, muscles flexing in the process but his lips never left yours while he walked towards the bed, helping you lie down as he got on top of you, your legs wrapping around his waist as your dress started riding up your thigh. 

He leaned back, eyes fixated on yours but you only continued to pepper kisses along his jawline, and down his neck, making him growl as he stopped you from unbuttoning his shirt. 

“You’re drunk, baby. I don’t want you to regret anything in the morning,” he says softly, breathing in your scent as he inhales deeply. 

“I’m not,” you whined, switching your positions to be sitting in front of him, trying to remove his jacket, before he stops you with his fingers wrapping around your wrist. 

He cupped your cheek as you looked at him sadly, “tell me, do you not want me?” You’d ask, playing with his necklace. 

“Fuck,” he muttered. He couldn’t hold himself back, not when your eyes sparkled with innocence and undeniable glimmer of need, “you have no idea, darling,” he chuckles, running his thumb on your lower lip, which was still wet from your kiss, “I want you so fucking much.”

That was enough for you to smile at him, eyes hazy as you slid off the bed and got on your knees, unbuckling his belt as you fumbled with the button of his jeans while Jake couldn’t believe this was happening. 

The strap of your dress slid down, revealing more of your cleavage, that’s exactly when you helped him get out of his jeans, revealing his boxers. Your fingers grazed his clothed cock, your lips tugging up as you saw him groan, even more so when you kissed his semi-hardened cock. 

His eyes never left yours during the entire time you teased him, getting his leather jacket off, leaving him in his white button up and boxers, which you pulled down in a go. 

A shiver went down your abdomen, making you close your thighs with how big he was. His cock was hard, leaking with precum that made your mouth water. He had the biggest cock you had ever witnessed in your life, girth and veiny too. 

He sucks in a sharp breath when you take him in your small hand, squeezing it a smidge before planting featherlight kisses all over his length, swirling your tongue around his head, he bit his lip as he took the scene in front of him. You licked big stripes of his length before taking his head into your mouth. 

That snapped him out of his daze, he couldn’t take your teasing any longer. Pushing himself up slightly, he spread his legs to accommodate your body between it as he grabbed your nape, gathering your hair in a makeshift ponytail as you took him in, your hands stroking the base where your lips couldn’t reach. 

“Just like that, sweetheart,” he groaned, pushing your head to hold his cock in you even deeper. 

You can’t help but think how he looks nothing like his sweet self in the given moment, he looks like a devil who’s thirsting for lust, his eyes dark and so immersed in your activities. 

His length throbs in your mouth as you continue your ministrations, quickening your pace as you sucked him off with all you had, hearing him growl made you realize how your panties were soaking wet when you release him with a satisfying pop sound, looking up at him again.

He sat straighter, his thumb wiping the saliva that was all over your chin and lips before pulling you up on the bed, spreading your legs to see a wet patch on your panties as you struggled to take your dress off. 

He chuckled deeply, “Oh, bunny. Let me help you with that,” he says, cursing once he sees you without any bra, his fingers tracing your neck, your clavicle and going all the way down to pay attention to your tits. 

However, that’s not all he does. Your toes curl when he yanks your panties to the side, immersing his tongue to tease your clit before he licks and sucks you thoroughly, humming against your folds as he gets drunk on the taste of your juices. 

His tongue prods on your entrance, pushing it in as your fingers grabbed his roots, tugging on his hair which also elicited a deep groan from him, your eyes rolling back with how ecstatic you felt. 

He fucked your cunt, pushing his tongue in while his thumb worked wonders on your sensitive bundle of nerves, making you squirm around, finally moaning out, “Jake, oh god!” You cried out. 

“That’s it baby, scream my name,” he whispers against you, the moist squelching noises filling up the room as you arched your back, your body shaking with how you could feel your high approaching, as he yearned for your pussy, not stopping once, as if he had completely plunged his body to focus on your pleasure and your pleasure only. 

You chanted his name as if it was a mantra you had to recite, and that’s exactly when you felt your stomach tightening, a teardrop leaving the corner of your eye, cascading down your neck as you allowed yourself to feel the unadulterated bliss Jake provided you with. 

It wasn’t the alcohol, you admitted. 

You were drunk on Jake. 

You breathed in deeply as he licked you up, finally getting up as he rolled your nipples between the rough pads of his fingers before he also removed his last article of clothing, leaving you to see the shadow of his abs and pecs clearly. 

“Tell me you won’t regret this in the morning, baby,” he breathes out, searching your eyes as his length brushes against your sensitive cunt. 

“I won’t,” you promised, “I want you, I need you, Jake,” you cried out as his eyes turned hooded. 

He silenced your loud moan with his lips on yours, your nails digging into his back as he gave a sharp thrust, filling you up till he bottomed out easily with how wet you were, kissing your tears away and giving you a minimum of two seconds before he grabbed your wrists, holding them above your head. 

“Do you know how pretty you look right now, bunny?” He asks, giving you another sharp thrust, this particular one hitting your g-spot, which had you whimpering out his name, “all mine, yeah?” He asks, thrusting harder, his hips slapping your ass. 

“Y—yours!” You managed to speak, eyes closing shut with pleasure. 

“Open your eyes, baby. Look at me when I fuck your pretty little cunt,” he whispers as your wail out when his cock hits your cervix. 

He takes his time to kiss and mark your neck, his teeth digging in as he sucks on your sensitive skin harsh enough to leave marks. 

It was effortless how he moved in and out of you so easily despite groaning about how tight your little hole was and you felt dumb, you couldn’t think, you couldn’t speak. You simply knew and felt one thing and that was Jake. 

He manhandled you easily, turning you around and lifting your ass up, your face buried into the pillow as your mascara smudged, just how your lipstick was smudged all over your cheeks. 

He thrusted into you yet again, smacking your ass as he saw it jiggle with the impact, another moan reverberated the room, which made him spank you twice more before he started fucking you again, your walls clenching around him with need as he gave you almost brutal backshots. 

“I’m—Fuck!” You cried out, almost passing out as you breathed in deeply. 

You both were so close, his cock twitched in you as his thrusts got sharper, “go on, bunny. Cream my cock like a good fucking girl,” he groaned. 

You withered beneath him as you screamed out his name with sheer pleasure as you reached your high, coating his cock with your juices before he also moaned deeply, fucking his cum into your glistening pussy. 

He breathed in deeply as he pulled out, staring at your cunt which was dripping with your juices mixed together. 

He sighed softly, holding you in his arms, “baby,” he whispered softly as you initiated a soft kiss, getting on his lap again as your heart beat rose up to the point you could hear it in your ears while Jake felt the same way. 

He could see how exhausted you were by how you started dozing off in his arms. He didn’t know what would happen tomorrow, he didn’t want to know. All he wanted was to have you in his arms now and freeze the time. 

It took him time to get up as he helped you get dressed up again, before he picked you up in his arms, getting down to see the party winding up. You were asleep and cuddling into him, his heart still racing as he saw Yunjin smiling at you two, “take her home with you,” she said, “and you better take care of her,” she added as a genuine warning, which made Jake nod earnestly. 

He would never hurt you.  

He really was perfect with how he took you to his room safely, with how he tried to remove your makeup even though he had no idea what he was doing, yet he was gentle as you slept with how drunk and exhausted you were. He made sure to change your clothes to his loose ones, just so you would sleep comfortably. 

He had fucked you, however he still was respectful and tried to not look your way while he changed your clothes. 

You looked so peaceful as you snuggled close to his pillow in his bed, he couldn’t help but stare at you with a soft smile as he kissed your forehead, “sleep well, baby.” He whispered as he slid under the covers next to you, holding you as if he was scared he’d lose you, his body shivering ever so slightly at the thought as he cradled you in his arms. 

Jake really was perfect. 

Your body was sore, the sunlight almost blinding you, adding on to the throbbing pain in your head as you shifted around the covers, opening your eyes with a groan to find yourself in unfamiliar surroundings. 

A low cry left your lips as the memories of the past night flooded into your mind, the graphic details of Jake and you, the way he had asked you if you’d regret it. 

You didn’t regret a thing. 

And neither did you know how you’d face him after this. Yes, everything that started off as a fake relationship but even you couldn’t deny that none of it felt fake to you. 

Butterflies erupted in your stomach as you saw a little note on the nightstand saying—

Good morning, sweetheart <3 Please take this medicine when you wake up and also drink the hangover soup! I’ll be at Uni and will be back by the time you wake up, love. 

“Why do you have to be so perfect?” You whined to yourself, kicking your feet, “why do you have to make me feel this way?” You whispered to yourself, gulping and looking at the medicines and a bowl of soup on the nightstand. 

You didn’t realize that you were wearing Jake’s clothes till you spilled a little drop of soup on it, eyes widening for the nth time today as you gasped. 

You couldn’t stay anymore, you got up and rushed to grab your clothes, which were folded neatly before you changed into them with a rush, getting out of his room while you checked your phone, bumping into a hard chest. 

You winced, looking up as your expression dropped.  Park Sunghoon stood there, his eyes sad as he searched your face for some kind of emotion, any kind of emotion, however you didn’t give him anything, choosing to walk away but he was quick to grab your wrist. 

“Y/n,” he spoke your name in desperation and you tried your best not to turn around, yet you did, looking at his regret stricken face as he spoke further, “I broke up with Linda,” he started and you almost snorted. 

“Well, good for you,” you said, turning around yet again, only to be stopped. 

“Don’t fucking do this, Y/n,” he breathes, eyes watery, “I know you and Jake aren’t dating. Come back to me, baby, I regret everything I did to you, please?” He almost begs. 

“Don’t call me that,” you seethed out, “you know nothing about us and it’s too late, Sunghoon. I don’t want you.”

He didn’t let you leave, pulling you into a hug as you struggled to get away, “I know you’re angry and you don’t mean it. Let’s be together again, we used to be so happy,” he whispered. 

“And you fucking ruined it,” you cried out, pushing him away, “you ruined everything and you never cared about us! But y’know what? Jake isn’t like you. He’s kind, caring and he’s genuine about everything,” you let out, stepping away, “I love him.” 

Saying that out loud felt like you had lifted a boulder off your chest. Your face was equally surprised as Sunghoon, but you didn’t stay any longer, shaking your head as you rushed out of the apartment and got into the safety of your own dorm. 

You loved Jake. 

And you were sure he didn’t feel the same, it was all fake for him. You sat in your bathtub for hours, pondering and mentally slapping yourself for letting this happen but it was beyond you. Jake was so easy to love. 

What scared you the most that he hadn’t called you once, nor did he reply to any of your texts throughout the day. Your heart broke into pieces when he didn’t show up in front of your dorm to pick you up. 

You were sure he hated you for drunkenly acting up that night, maybe that’s why he kept avoiding you. You had ruined everything. 

The plan for the day wasn’t to attend the classes, but to find Jake. Every second that passed by without him talking to you felt like a punishment, as if your anxiety would eat you up through and through. 

He wasn’t by the lawns, he wasn’t in the cafeteria and you could feel your eyes welling up with tears of frustration when you couldn’t find Jake. Yet you didn’t lose hope as you thought that he’d be in his lectures. 

A big smile etched your face when you found him standing in front of his locker and you sprinted his way, which startled him. It was as if he didn’t expect to see you in front of him, his eyes leaving yours for a second before he smiled at you. 

It was forced. 

“Jake,” you breathed out as you felt fidgety, “can we talk?” 

He bit his lower lip, not answering for a few seconds before he nodded, guiding you towards the rooftop for privacy, not uttering a word throughout the way. 

You stood side by side, watching the cloudy sky as he finally looked your way, “congratulations,” he let out, trying to smile. 

You looked at him, confused which only made him speak further. 

“I saw you and Sunghoon hugging,” his voice broke but he gained his composure, “I know you’re probably back together now and you don’t need me—”

“Jake,” you whispered, shaking your head as you stepped closer to stop him, yet he continued. 

“We don’t have to fake date anymore,” he nodded, looking at his feet, “I’m glad I could help you forget about him for some time and also with your revenge—”

You were on the verge of crying by now as you whispered his name again. 

“I’m so stupid to have thought that maybe it won’t be fake, but I know you want Sunghoon—”

“Don’t you fucking see that I want you? Sunghoon and I talked, yes we did and I told him I don’t want him. I don’t fucking want him, Jake. You’re not a rebound to me, This isn’t fake to me anymore, I don’t think it ever felt fake to me,” you let out your frustrations, shutting him up fully. 

“My heart feels like it would beat out of my chest every fucking time I’m near you, this longing intensifies each day and it scares me so much,” a crystalline tear escaped your eyes and Jake was quick to cup your face, as if on instinct and wipe it away, “you do this sweet things no one ever did for me, you remember the smallest details about me that no one else seems to care about and I feel restless when we don’t talk. I’ve grown so used to being around you, it’s not fucking fake. I think—I’m falling in love with you Jake,” you finally let out. 

“You—you love me?” He asks, voice barely a whisper as he finds it hard to breathe and you nod, his slender fingers still cupping your cheek, “you hugged Sunghoon—”

“I pushed him away,” you said in a beat, “he hugged me, I didn’t,” you assured him, grabbing his hand which rested on your cheek, “I told him I love you.”

Jake pulled you in his embrace, his body shook slightly which broke your heart thinking how he had it all wrong, you never wanted to see him hurt, just like how he always wished for you to be happy. 

He held you tighter, making you feel safe as warmth bloomed up your chest, “I liked you ever since I saw you trying to play guitar with Jay on the day we met, but Sunghoon was faster to reach out to you,” he confesses and you part your mouth with surprise as he leaned back to look at you, chuckling ever so lightly, “I hated how he treated you but when you came to me for help, I got selfish and used this to get closer to you, even if it meant that I’d have to fake date you,” he muttered, pressing his forehead against yours, “but I fell harder each day, even more so when I had to hold your hand and it felt so small against mine yet it fit perfectly, when you dressed up so beautifully for a fake date with me, when you looked so adorable in my jacket, when you remembered my birthday and my likes which even I hadn’t noticed before. I fell in love with you, baby,” he smiled through the tears as you pulled him in for a kiss, both of you smiling uncontrollably as it full of tenderness and affection, your hearts beating together as you shared unspoken promises through it. 

You weren’t fake dating anymore as you looked at him with a silly smile, taking the document of your agreement out before scratching out a line. 

Rule number one: Don’t fall in love. 

THANK YOU FOR READING!

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[navybrat817]

Hold You Tight: Part 17

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 16 | Series Masterlist | Part 18

Chapter Word Count: Over 5.9k

Chapter Summary: You take a step further in your relationship with Bucky.

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, dubcon elements, dirty talk, thigh riding, tension, kissing, reference to stalking, inner turmoil, manipulation, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight! Thank you for sticking with me! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You tried to occupy yourself as you waited for Bucky to pick you up. You made sure you had your outfit for tomorrow and sent Addison a text to confirm when and where you were meeting. God, what if Bucky insisted on dropping you off? He likely would. There was no way he’d let you head over on your own, unless Ray or someone dropped you off.

“What am I doing?” you muttered.

Staring at yourself in the mirror, you frowned. You had changed out of your work clothes and into something more comfortable. He would think you looked sexy no matter what you wore, even if you didn’t try. What was he going to expect or demand from you? There was no way you’d go through the entire evening in his home without him touching you or something.

You weren’t sure if the anticipation was worse or knowing he’d probably make your body enjoy whatever he’d do to you, and use that as a weapon against you.

The knock on your door made you jump. Had two hours passed already? You checked the peephole and saw Bucky on the other side, shifting from one foot to the other. At least he didn’t break his way inside like he could’ve easily done.

“Hi.” You slowly opened the door to let him in. “I-”

Bucky had you against the wall before you could finish, his lips insistently pressing against yours. The kiss only lasted seconds, but it felt like hours when he pulled away. “Don’t walk home alone again,” he whispered with a brief flash of fear in his eyes.

You nodded after a moment. The conversation from earlier was still on his mind, clearly. “I won’t.”

“You look beautiful by the way.” Taking a breath, he ran both hands through his hair and straightened up. He looked like his normal self again, and you knew it. No matter what he’d find you attractive. “Is this everything?” he asked, picking up the overnight bag and garment bag that you had left by the door.

“Yeah, it should be,” you said, making sure you had your phone and purse, too.

“Was the rest of your day okay?” he asked, watching carefully as you locked the door.

“It was fine,” you replied. You were so busy thinking about Bucky that you hadn’t thought much about Clark. “Was yours?”

“Better now that I’m taking you back to our place,” he said. There was that spring in his step again, like he was allowed to be happy since he knew you were really okay after walking home alone.

“You don’t have to go to the club tonight?” you asked.

“Only if there’s an emergency. There’s no special event tonight, no reason to make an appearance, and my staff knows how to take care of the place,” he assured you. “Time with you is much more important than that.”

When someone like Bucky had the kind of money he did, you imagined he’d drop just about anything to spend time with you and it wouldn’t make a dent in his pocketbook. Even if he lost everything tomorrow, it would be the same. Somehow you’d come first.

Once you were outside, you were surprised to find Steve standing by Bucky’s car instead of Ray. “Hi,” the blonde smiled with a row of perfect teeth.

“Hi,” you replied, stepping a bit closer to Bucky. Steve was his best friend, but you still didn’t know him well. What you did know was that he had his own woman he was stalking.

“Steve insisted on talking to you about that double date.” Bucky playfully rolled his eyes and refused to let his friend take the bags from his hands. He really didn’t want anyone else carrying your things or opening doors for you. “He’s stubborn, but you get used to it after a while.”

“I’m stubborn?” Steve chuckled. “Pot meet kettle.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Bucky smiled, helping you into the car.

The interaction between the two of them was so natural and easy. You imagined that in another life they were decent men who fought for others instead of trapping them. “So, what exactly did you want to talk about?” you asked once you took off.

“Well, we can talk about how excited Bucky is that you’re spending the night,” Steve teased.

“I think she knows,” Bucky smirked, your cheeks hot. Did the whole gang feed into his delusion of what would happen if you stayed over?

“Did you want to talk about the double date?” you asked, hoping the topic switch would help.

“Well, my girl likes art and Bucky mentioned how you sometimes like to relax with a glass of wine,” Steve began, smiling at you in the mirror. “So, I was thinking, we could do one of those wine and painting classes. Just the four of us.”

“But if you didn’t want to do a painting, they do something similar with pottery where everyone can pick their own piece to paint,” Bucky said, slipping an arm over your shoulders.

“Dinner before the painting, too. It would be really nice for you two to talk,” Steve continued, tapping a finger on the steering wheel. “She’s a sweet girl with a big heart, but she doesn’t have many friends nearby like you do.”

“I mean, I’m fine with painting a canvas or pottery. I think we should let her choose since art is one of her passions.” Your heart went out to the girl. Was that why Steve set his sights on her? Did he feel like he was rescuing her in some sense? “And does she have a preference on wine? White or red? Sweet or dry? Maybe I can pick a bottle for her while I’m at the vineyard tomorrow.”

Steve glanced at you again in the mirror, impressed. “That’s very considerate of you,” he said, sharing a quick look with Bucky, too. “And she likes sparkling sweet wine.”

“I have a very considerate girl,” Bucky boasted, kissing your temple. “You really are thoughtful.”

“I try to be,” you whispered, not wanting to make a big deal out of it. “I’m sure Bucky will give me the details once it’s set up,” you said, not finding it in you to argue since you were outnumbered.

“He will,” Steve smiled, clearing his throat. “And now that we have that out of the way…”

“Really, punk?” Bucky asked, tightening his hand on our shoulder.

You sat up a little. All the warmth had left his voice, and he tensed up beside you. “What’s going on?”

“Tell her, Buck,” Steve urged.

You held your breath. Was this about earlier in the day when Ray spoke with Bucky? “Yes, please, tell me.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched. “Mrs. Crandle wasn’t at work today, was she?” he asked as if he already knew the answer.

“No, she…” Your eyes widened. Kate said she called out for some business reason. “Oh, my god. Is she okay?”

“She’s fine, she’s fine,” Bucky assured you, cupping your cheeks. “She’s okay. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“For now, she is,” Steve muttered under his breath.

“Just shut up and drive,” Bucky ordered when you gasped. “The reason she was suddenly out of work today was because of Zemo.”

Your heart sank. What the hell would Zemo want with Mrs. Crandle? “What do you mean?”

“From what we’ve gathered, he met up with her to tell her that she won an all expenses paid trip to a flower expo. She was shocked since she didn’t remember even entering the contest, but he told her someone anonymously registered her,” he explained. “He asked questions about some of her employees in case she wanted to bring anyone from her shop along and your name came up.”

“But why?” you asked. Why would Zemo make a contest just to talk to your boss?

“We still don’t know the angle.” Bucky’s jaw clenched. “He could be doing it to show that can get to people close to you.”

“Like you with Addison and Brady?” you asked. Nick was Brady’s boss now, and it was clear that it wasn’t a coincidence.

“Bucky doesn’t have his hand in the shop out of respect for you, and Zemo knows that,” Steve chimed in before Bucky could argue. “So it’s possible that he may be trying to butter Mrs. Crandle up before he makes an offer, whether it’s to offer some kind of protection or to buy out her shop completely.”

The thought of Zemo owning the shop where you worked or having his hand in it made your stomach turn. “She loves her shop, and she’s honest when it comes to business. She wouldn’t want someone stepping in or buying it,” you said, your breathing a bit heavier. “Is she in danger? Is something going to happen to her because of me?”

If something happened to Mrs. Crandle, you’d never forgive yourself.

“It isn’t because of you, Kotyonok. It’s his actions,” Bucky answered. Just like Bucky’s actions put you in the line of fire. “I hesitated telling you because we still need answers, but she’s safe. We also have someone keeping an eye on her, just to exercise caution.”

You exhaled. If Zemo was trying to scare you, it was working. “Please, don’t keep me in the dark,” you said. Even if it scared you, you had to know. “And Mrs. Crandle is one of the most harmless people in the city and the shop is all she has. If he-”

“We won’t let anything happen to her,” Bucky promised. It was a lot to promise. “And I’m sorry I didn’t say something this morning. I just wanted you to have a normal day.”

You understood part of Bucky’s reasoning. Telling you even when she wasn't in immediate danger would've thrown your whole day off. But what was a normal day now? “We deal with ups and downs every day. So just tell me next time something’s going on, especially if it involves someone important to me.” Ignorance isn't bliss in the world Bucky lived in.

He regarded you with a soft smile. “I will.”

You stayed quiet for the remainder of the ride while Bucky and Steve discussed dinner options for the double date night. It would’ve been endearing with how excited they were, had it not been for the fact that you and Steve’s girl didn’t exactly have a choice. What was going to happen at Thor’s party?

And what about your loved ones? Were they safe? You thought being by Bucky’s side would keep them safe from his wrath, but what if Zemo went after them? You had to trust that Bucky and his men wouldn't allow that to happen.

“You two have fun tonight,” Steve winked. “Try not to get too handsy, jerk.”

“What?” you asked, your throat dry once you realized you were at Bucky’s place. God, you were really there. There was no backing out.

“Just get in your car and go, punk,” Bucky chuckled, helping you out and grabbing your things. “He really is excited for you and his girl to become friends.”

“I’ll bet,” you said, giving Steve a small wave for his benefit.

You counted the number of steps from the car to the elevator. This was similar to when he brought you here the first time because you didn’t know what to expect. You weren’t sure if it was better or worse though knowing what you knew now.

“Where’s Ray?” you asked.

“He’s busy,” Bucky answered cryptically, sweeping his gaze over you. “You seem nervous. If you’d rather skip your day out tomorrow, I can help you find a few ways to relax.”

“How about I find a way to relax and still go out tomorrow?” you suggested.

“You’re really determined to go. And here I thought Steve and I were the stubborn ones,” he smirked, guiding you into the penthouse. “Why don’t you take a seat in the living room and I’ll put your stuff in the bedroom?”

“Okay,” you breathed, hoping he didn’t notice you trembling as you walked through the place. It felt warmer than the last time you were there, more like the temperature that you kept at your place. And as dangerous as Bucky was, you somehow felt safe being there. Someone like Zemo wasn’t going to get in there. Clark wouldn’t either.

Rubbing your arms, you took a seat on the sofa. It was a beautiful room, but nothing like your living room. It wasn't just the difference in size, but you noticed once again that there were no nicknacks or homey touches. Maybe you could add a pop or color or even some flowers to… Oh, God. You were really thinking of how you’d decorate the place.

“You still look nervous,” Bucky said once he joined you, giving you absolutely no space as he took a seat. “You don’t have to be.”

“I’m not nervous,” you lied, biting your lip. “Okay, I am a little.”

He hummed. “Were you expecting me to drag you to bed?”

You nodded slowly. He behaved himself in the car with Steve there, but now the two of you were alone and you had no idea where Ray was. There was nothing to stop him from taking what he thought belonged to him.

“You thought sex would make it up to me because you walked home alone?”

“No,” you said immediately. You shouldn’t have to give him sex to say you’re sorry, especially when he had a much longer list of things he needed to apologize for. “I just thought this was a natural step in a relationship, you know? Spending the night together.”

A natural step would’ve been him staying at your place, too, but he was certain you would live at his place. And having him in your space, it didn’t feel the same. It was something you wanted to keep sacred.

“It is a natural step, but I don’t think you offered to stay here to make it up to me.”

His statement surprised you. That was part of the reason. If you made it up to him, he wouldn’t object to you going out with your friends. You weren’t going to bring up Clark or that the thought of being alone at your place made you nervous. “Then why else do you think I’m here?” you asked.

“Because you like being near me,” he said, your eyes rounding. “You slept beside me last night and you want to experience that again. Either that or being near me makes you feel safer than you want to admit.”

You scoffed. “No, that’s…” You shook your head. “I mean, no. That’s just-”

He gently smiled. “It's okay to admit. It'll be our secret.”

You shook your head again. Admitting that being in his arms wasn’t terrible and that his place did feel safer than yours at the moment would give him another win. “I'm not admitting anything.”

The smile on his face widened. “Is it because I'm right and you don't want me to be right?”

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” you said, standing and crossing your arms. “I should just go.”

“No, no, no. I’ll stop teasing. Please stay,” he nearly begged, getting to his feet, too. “How about I run you a bath and you can relax?”

“...A bath?” you asked. It wasn’t fair. He knew how much you loved taking baths.

He nodded. “A warm bath and a glass of wine, too.”

You uncrossed your arms, avoiding his hopeful gaze. It was a bit of a rough day, on top of a rough week. You deserved to relax. “Okay, that actually sounds really nice.”

He smiled and offered his hand. “I have bath bombs or salts if you want those, too. Anything to help you relax.”

“You have bath bombs?” you asked, your curiosity peaked. “What kind?”

“I have honeysuckle, lavender, vanilla,” he smiled softly. Each scent sounded like something that would help make the stress leave your body. “Let me show you.”

You let him lead the way you were pretty sure most of your apartment could fit inside the luxurious bathroom. The inviting tub almost made you burst into happy tears. It was nothing like your builder's grade tub. This was an honest to goodness clawfoot tub of your dreams.

“You like it?” Bucky smiled.

Blinking, you remembered Bucky saying how he wanted to fuck you in his tub. Would it be tonight? “I love it,” you admitted.

His smile stretched from ear to ear. “I’ll grab a tray and I can bring you a book if you want. Or you can just relax and enjoy your wine.”

“Well.” You thought it over. “I wouldn’t mind a book.”

Bucky nodded and brought the bath bombs out for you to choose from before he ushered you into the bedroom. “Why don't you stay here and pick one out while I'll get everything else you need?”

“Okay,” you said, holding your breath as you stared at the king sized bed. You avoided looking at it when he led you into the bathroom, but now you couldn’t help yourself. That was the bed he expected you to sleep with him in… the bed he’d fuck you and make love to you in. The satin sheets were a dark promise that he’d get everything he wanted and more.

Shaking your head, you carefully picked up each bath bomb and gave them a sniff. Each one smelled better than the last, and your eyes nearly rolled back at the one you selected. You wondered if he had these before you met or if he bought them specifically for you to have available.

Bucky came back after a minute and took your hand, guiding you back into the bathroom. “I’ve got everything all set.” The tub was steaming, candles were lit, and there was a generous glass of wine waiting on the tray with a book. “There's a robe on the back of the door, and I'll make sure fresh pajamas are ready for when you get out.”

You tried not to choke up. It felt romantic, but you appreciated how thoughtful it was. “I…” You had to clear your throat. “I brought pajamas.”

“I know, but I wanted to surprise you,” he smiled. “They’re your size and I think you’ll like them.”

“Thanks.” What other clothes did he have waiting for you? “What will you do while I'm in the tub?”

“I have a couple of calls to make.” He kissed your forehead. “And there's something else I want to set up for you.”

You shook your head. “I think this is more than enough,” you said honestly. He didn’t have to go to the trouble of setting this up. “But…” You fidgeted a little. “You promise you won’t just… barge in, right?”

This was still his home. He could easily make an excuse to go into his bathroom for whatever reason. And being naked in the bathtub, you’d be more vulnerable than normal.

Bucky’s eyebrows pinched. “Of course I won’t. This is your relaxing time,” he promised, kissing your forehead again as you breathed easier. “And like I said, I have a few things to do.”

You felt a little sheepish at his expression. “I’m sorry. I just…”

“Nothing to apologize for. I don't blame you for double checking.” He patted your backside with a gentle hand. “Just enjoy your time.”

With a small smile, he shut the door behind him. You waited a full minute after hearing his footsteps fade before you undressed and added the bath bomb to the tub. The scent brought a smile to your face before you tested the water temperature with your hand. It felt perfect, evident by your sigh once you got in.

You took your time sipping your wine as you began to read. Was this really going to be your bathroom now? Would you relax here after a rough shift or just because you felt like it? How many nights would Bucky insist on joining you?

But the man was, surprisingly, true to his word. He hadn’t disturbed you once. Even after you finished your glass and added more warm water to the tub, he didn’t knock or barge in. Even when you grudgingly got out of the tub and dried off before you pulled the plush robe on, he wasn’t sitting there waiting. Was he actually respecting your boundaries?

Peeking out into the bedroom, Bucky had laid out a pair of soft pajamas like he promised and was still nowhere to be seen. You were still quick to change so he couldn’t sneak a look at you. But where was he?

You thought of calling out when you went to search for him since the lights were dimmed all over the penthouse. Your fingers touched one of the walls. Would he ever hang a picture of his mom up or was it too painful?

Tiptoeing over to the balcony when you saw the door open, you spotted Bucky reading a book, too, and sipping whiskey from a tumbler. He looked completely at ease, lost in his own lonely world, and you weren’t sure if you should disturb him. Turning around, you wondered where you should go. Maybe you could curl up on the couch or something before he could-

“All finished in the bath?”

You froze and turned back toward him, his hair gently blowing in the breeze. “Yeah, sorry. I didn't know what to do when I was done, so I was going to wander around.”

He downed the rest of his glass and smiled. “You're welcome to wander, except into the den which is being redone.” He offered his hand again when he stood. “Did you enjoy your bath?”

“I did. That bath bomb was incredible,” you said. There was no reason to lie. “So was the wine.”

You gulped a little. Oh, god. You didn’t see him pour the glass. Why did you accept that from him? He could’ve put something in it. No, he wouldn’t. He wanted you to want him without that sort of influence.

“I'll get you more. The bath bomb and the wine.” he smiled, leading you back to the living room where he had pillows and blankets set up.

“Bucky, you didn’t have to-”

“I don't have to do anything, but I wanted to. Do you like it?”

You looked at the lush blankets and fluffy pillows. Like the bathroom, it looked like a dream. Looking back at him, you smiled softly at his once again hopeful expression. He carried himself with such confidence and didn't seem to care if he impressed others except for you. “I do. Thank you.”

He smiled, too, his whole face bright. “I thought it would be another good way to relax.”

The memory of Clark walking you home popped in your mind for some reason before you pushed it away. “This is all thoughtful, but aren't I supposed to be making it up to you?”

He frowned a little at your expression. “You being here is more than enough.” His fingers barely grazed your cheek. “Are you okay?”

You blinked and nodded. “I’m fine.”

Bucky considered you and you couldn’t help but fidget again when he pinned you with his gaze. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

You bit the inside of your cheek and closed your eyes. “I just don't understand why you’re doing all of this.”

He could’ve been manipulating you again, but it actually seemed like he was trying to be a doting boyfriend without expecting anything in return. Your guard was down enough for him to worm his way in, and you all too easily accepted the kind gestures. Why were you making it easy for him?

“You mean setting up the blankets and pillows? I thought we could lay together and watch a movie. Or talk.” His fingers touched your cheek again. “Whatever you want.”

You avoided his gaze when you opened your eyes. “That’s all you want?” you asked. He hadn’t dragged you to bed once you arrived, but he also didn’t say that he didn’t want something.

He ran a thumb over your bottom lip. “Well, I won’t lie to you. I want you, but I'm not pushing you. This is the first time you came to me willingly, and I want to cherish it.”

You shivered at his touch. “Yeah, I did come here willingly,” you said. Sort of.

“And how do you feel being here compared to the first time?”

“Better,” you admitted. You weren’t completely terrified this time, and you also felt like you had some control over. Maybe not much, but some.

“Good. Now, shall we?”

You nodded and allowed Bucky to help you settle into the comfort of the pillows. He pulled you close, but it wasn’t as suffocating as it had been before. This felt more gentle. More… right.

It should’ve felt wrong.

The room was so quiet and all you could hear for a minute was the gentle sound of his breathing and his heart beating. “What's your favorite color?” you asked. “I don't think you've told me.”

You weren’t sure if you had taken the time to ask because, well, it hadn’t been a real relationship in your eyes. But you needed to know him. Call it acceptance or ammunition. Maybe both.

“Blue,” he answered, his hand absentmindedly moving along your side.

“And your birthday?”

“March 10th.”

“Wait, you're a Pisces?” you smiled a little. “That explains so much.”

He smiled down at you and chuckled. “Oh, does it now?”

You laughed lightly. “Well, yeah. I mean, you’re just… you know…” He raised an eyebrow and waited for you to finish. “Emotional.”

“I can't argue with that,” he smiled, leaning in a bit. “Does it explain anything else?”

“Well, you're…” You were a little distracted as he kept rubbing your side. “Intense. Passionate. You want to be close to the person you fall for.”

He fit that to a tee.

His darkened eyes made you lose your breath. “I can’t argue with that either,” he whispered, pulling you close without hesitation and fusing your mouths together.

Bucky held you tight and rolled you over so you were on top of him, his hands skimming your thighs as he made you straddle him. A small sound escaped when he brushed against you, your heart pounding in your ears. “Bucky-”

“Stay home with me tomorrow,” he whispered, sitting up with you in his lap still. “We don’t have to go anywhere. We can spend the whole day together.”

“No,” you said firmly. You were going out with your friends and that was final. “Send Ray or someone to watch over me. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Please?” he asked, thrusting his hips up. “I’ll make it worth your while if you skip.”

Natasha’s words crossed your mind, reminding you that you had power. But a sinking feeling washed over you because that power had to come from your body, right? You shouldn’t be expected to give him sex, but you could give him something to hold him over. Pushing the dread away, you could hate yourself later for it. “You can spend time with me when I get back,” you offered, grinding your hips against his. “I’ll be all yours.”

The sickening feeling you expected when he moaned didn’t come. “You promise?” he murmured.

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, grinding your hips again. “You can even drop me off at Addison’s, and I’ll let you know when I get back to my place. I promise.”

“Okay, Kotyonok,” he groaned, his hands grabbing your waist. Your triumph didn’t last long. “Keep doing that and I’ll pay for all the bottles of wine you want, too.”

“You don’t have to-”

“Let me touch you. Please, just let me make you feel good,” he half begged, half demanding between kissing you again. He truly hungered for you. “I'll make you feel amazing if you just let me touch you.”

You took a deep, shaky breath. How far would he take it if he touched you? No, you had to stay in control. “You are touching me.”

“Let me take you to bed. I'll eat your pussy so good you'll cry.”

You tensed and tried to push yourself up, but he grabbed you and situated you over one of his massive thighs. He had a firm hold on you and it made your heart pound. “I don't want you to be scared. I'll take such good care of you.”

“I just… I’m not…” If he took you to bed, there’d be no turning back, and you had to maintain some control.

“You’re not ready for that,” he stated, his eyes still dark. Shaking your head, it worried you how he’d take it. But he suddenly started moving you over his thigh, hard and slow. “Okay, Kotyonok. I won't put my tongue or fingers in you just yet, but I still want to make you feel good.”

You made a small sound, trying to get your body to relax. You had never ridden anyone’s thigh before and you hadn’t pictured it like this. But the blissful look on his face, he looked like he was in heaven.

“You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you? Especially like this,” he praised.

“I…” you whimpered. “I’m not-”

“Yes, you are,” he growled, tightening his grip. “And you deserve to feel good. My girl deserves whatever she wants.”

Your hands flew to his shoulders when he flexed his thigh, sending an unexpected shock through your entire body. “Oh, my God,” you whispered before you could stop yourself.

“That felt good, right?” he asked, watching you with lidded eyes. “You want me to keep going? Make you come all over my pants?”

You whimpered when he held you still, unsure it was his dirty talk or the slight edging that had you trembling. “Bucky…”

“Tell me, Kotyonok,” he ordered, licking his lips and relaxing back into the blankets and pillows. “Tell me you want me to keep going and I will.”

You looked deep into his eyes. There was so much fire in them and it was burning for you. Your breath caught as he flexed his thigh again and you found yourself nodding. “Please, Bucky. Keep going.”

He shook his head. “That’s not what I said,” he whispered, sliding his tongue along your lips. “Tell me.”

You swallowed hard, your core throbbing. “I want you to keep going,” you breathed.

“That’s my good girl,” he praised, rocking you over his thigh again and sitting up, desperately pressing his lips to your neck. “You'll never have to beg for anything you want. Just ask or tell me and it's yours.”

Your eyes burned with unshed tears as your nails dug into his shoulders, feeling his thigh getting wetter beneath you. “Please…” you whispered, unsure of what exactly you were asking for. Mercy? To be put out of your misery? You could ask for anything except for freedom.

“Still begging when you don't have to.” He chuckled affectionately. “You’re so sweet.”

The pleasure building inside you was bittersweet. Sexual acts were, in your eyes, something to bring you closer together. What would he want next? What would you want next?

“Fucking yourself on my thigh. Wait ‘til you fuck yourself on my cock,” he gruffly spoke, your walls clenching around nothing when he lightly nipped over your pulse. “Just let go if you want. Make a mess for me.”

You were breathless from how close you were. “Do… that again,” you said, unable to let yourself feel embarrassed in the moment.

Bucky nipped your neck again and smiled when you moaned. “Fuck, that’s my beautiful girl. Doing so good for me, telling me what you want,” he said gruffly, dragging you faster along his thigh. “Now I want you to come for me.”

Your mouth fell open when he rocked you faster and bit down once more, hard enough that something inside you snapped. It didn’t just snap, you shattered. You saw stars. You couldn't stop it.

“There you go. Coming just for me,” he smiled, burying his face in your neck. “Fuck, you got my thigh all wet. Just ride it out. Good girl.”

Your face burned and you wanted to hide once you slowed down, but he wouldn’t let you when he lifted his head. He looked so happy, like a cat who got the cream. Your release dripped from your pussy and soaked your pajamas and his pants. You let him get you off.

And breathing hard, you surprised both of you by leaning in and kissing him.

He let out a deep moan, kissing you back with everything he had as he held you closer. You were still shaking from your orgasm, and you could blame that for the reason why you kissed him. And he behaved, not letting his hands wander as his tongue moved with yours.

He kept his mouth close to yours when you pulled back. The orgasm surprisingly helped you relax, but it worried you, too. Had you pushed too far with what you just did? Would he want more? You couldn’t let him in, and you weren’t ready to let yourself fall for him after everything. Not yet.

“Um, thanks,” you said, unsure of what to say to break the tension.

“Thank you,” he smiled.

His smile confused you. “But… you didn’t…” you trailed off. He was hard in his pants, and you hadn’t gotten him off. You selfishly got yourself off on his thigh with his encouragement.

“That doesn't matter,” he assured you, kissing the tip of your nose. “You trusted me enough to make you feel good.”

Your jaw dropped slightly. “But that’s… No. I…” You just wanted a bit of time with your friends, it wasn’t about trust. Was it? How could you trust this man?

He tucked your head under his chin and wrapped one of the blankets around you. “I know you're still a bit scared and you don’t want to trust me, and that’s okay. It’s scary to let someone like me in after everything.”

You shut your eyes to hold back tears. He had scared you from the moment you met, but you wouldn’t say you were completely scared of him right now. Not really. You didn’t know how you felt.

That was what scared you.

“Will someone keep an eye on my place while I’m out tomorrow?” you asked curiously, hoping the question didn't sound weird. You just didn't want Clark snooping around, and you didn't want Bucky worked up if you mentioned him.

“I have safety measures in place,” he replied. “Do you feel safe here?” he asked above a whisper.

“Yes,” you replied. You felt safe and in danger all at once. It was a strange feeling.

“Good,” he whispered. “Hey. Maybe you can spend the night tomorrow, too? We’ll do a movie night.”

“Maybe,” you whispered, your heart finally starting to slow to a steady rate. “And pizza.”

“Pizza and a movie? It’s a date,” he smiled. “We can talk about redecorating the place, too. Make it a real home for us.”

“A real home,” you whispered, knowing full well you were home for Bucky.

He rubbed your back and you noticed how relaxed he was. He was content to just hold you. Like an actual couple. Exactly what he wanted.

And if he noticed a tear streaming down your cheek when you eventually fell asleep in his arms, he thoughtfully kept that to himself.

So, that happened. It could've been... worse? He's wearing his girl down, isn't he? How are things going to be in the morning? Will he leave you be when you're with your friends? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[bbyquokka]

blow me instead?

– “Why should I blow out the candles, when you can just blow me instead?” prompt

pairing | lee felix x gender-neutral reader

genre | smut – 18+ is strongly advised!

cw | established relationship ; dom felix ; oral sex (blowjob) ; finger sucking ; cum swallowing ; deep throating

words | 2.6k ~ ( 2,693 ) + 2 fake texts !

notes | a lil smth for felix's bday. jisung's will be posted at a later date when i've finished it :( don’t forget to leave feedback, reblog and tell me what you think here. i hope you all enjoy! ‹3

m.list — wips list — you can also read it on my ao3

dont repost. dont translate. minors, ageless & default blogs; dni! feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

you forgot. you’ve forgotten the most important day of the year and you are currently kicking yourself for it. it’s felix’s birthday, the one day of the year that you look forward to every single year – but for some unknown reason, this year you forgot.

maybe it’s because you’ve both been really busy that you haven’t given it a second thought. you’re always well prepared for things like this, but this year it slipped your mind.

you knew you forgotten something but you couldn't tell what. you had that nagging feeling in the back of your mind but you pushed it to the side. “i’ll figure it out later” you always told yourself only to forget – once again.

it wasn't until the day before, did you looked at your calendar and see ‘15th sept’ circled and decorated in hearts, labelled ‘felix’s bday!!’ did you panic. that nagging feeling quickly turned into a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. worry and panic washing over you and coating your skin in a cold sweat.

it was way into the night to go to the store to pick something up. everything was closed. you thought about making him something but realised that you don't have the materials to do so. so a quick search on the web was your last resort. you hoped you could find something that would do next day delivery but alas, after several hours of searching and drawing up blanks, did you accept your fate.

you woke up the day of his birthday, feeling guilty and it's eating you alive. you don't think you'd be able to face to him without bursting into tears.

“i should at least wish him a happy birthday.” you mumble. you take your phone from the night stand and open up felix's contact. your thumb hovers over the green circle. 

you hesitate. lips pursed together. you overthink. you can hear his sullen tone of voice. you can see his facial expressions twisted into sadness. your heart aches and feels tight, like someone is gripping onto it.

“fuck. i can't.” you throw your phone onto the bed beside you, watching it bounce from impact before rubbing your face with your hands and groaning. “maybe a shower will help me. i’ll call him then!” 

you didn't call him. in fact, you spent the whole day avoiding him. you did pop to the store and buy a small box of cupcakes and some candles. you had this idea of surprising him by turning up at his place with a fancy birthday cake, thinking it's better than nothing,  but when the store only had cupcakes to offer, that idea was quick to fizzle out.

the cakes are now sitting on the counter, untouched and unopened. you're in your lounge wear on the sofa, TV on but you're not tuned into whatever show it's playing. instead, you're on your social media, looking at what felix has been up to the whole day.

pictures of felix with chan, jisung and hyunjin. birthday wishes from friends and family flood his profiles. you're glad he's had a good day but that guilt just won't go away. 

you've shamelessly avoided him the whole day because you couldn't face him. it's cowardly of you and you know it, but in a way, you just shut off.

you rush to your feet. your sock covered soles slapping against the floor as you rush to the door. you open it and come face to face with a not so pleased looking felix.

'“i see you're still alive.” you swallow. he sounds irritated. he's angry at you and you don't blame him.

“felix, i–”

“are you going to let me in or are we just going to stand out in the hallway?” he cuts you off. you look down at your feet and shuffle to the side, opening the door wider for him.

he walks in, kicking off his shoes and hanging up his coat as you close the door behind him. he notices the unopened cupcakes and pack of birthday candles by the side of them.

“so?” he starts as he looks at you. your chin is tucked into your chest, fingers fiddling with one another. you feel like a child about to be told off by a parent.

“i'm so sorry, felix.” you start, keeping your eyes glued to your feet. you don't want to make eye contact with him because the guilt of forgetting is eating you alive. it's making you feel incredibly nauseous.

“for?” his arms crossed against his chest as he looks down at you, brow raised. his authoritative and dominant aura seeps out from his pores and clouds you, suffocating you in the process.

“... i–uh…” you start, words lodged in your throat. felix lets out a small, irritated sigh. “I forgot about your birthday.” 

your voice is small and cracks. you furiously blink back the tears that are threatening to spill from your lower lash line.

“you forgot?” you nod slowly. “is that why you've been avoiding me?” you nod again. “why?”

“because i thought you'd be angry at me… like right now.” felix runs his fingers through his hair slowly.

“i’m not angry that you forgot. it happens. i’m angry because you avoided me on my birthday.”

“i know.. i’m sorry.” you look up at him and chew your bottom lip. the cupcakes catch the corner of your eye. you rush to then, opening them and the candles before sticking one in the middle of the cake.

felix follows you and watches you with eager eyes. his gaze suddenly feels hot. he licks his lips as he admires your body, eyes flickering up and down.

he's undressing you with his eyes. 

you turn around, holding the cupcake in your hand with the candle flame flickering. you present it in front of felix and smile.

“i got you cupcakes though. i know it's not much but i couldn't find anything on such short notice…” felix simply hums and looks at the cake, then you. “are you not going to blow it out?” you question after some seconds pass.

felix leans in close. his lips brush against the shell of your ear as his voice drops and becomes low and deep. his warm breath fans against your ear as he speaks.

“why should i blow out the candles when you can just blow me instead?” 

goosebumps ripple along your skin. your heart suddenly starts racing. his breath feels ticklish against your ear, body temperature suddenly rising

“f-felix!” you squeak as he pulls back, finding amusement at your shocked facial expression. 

“i assume you didn't get me a gift so i can consider a blowjob as one. and if you do a good job, maybe i’ll let you off the hook for avoiding me on my special day.” 

“i–” you swallow a little, the heat from the candle is radiating onto your chin, adding to the increase of your own body temperature.

felix keeps his brow raised before trailing his hand down his torso to his groin where he squeezes and groans softly.

you can't take your eyes off him. you watch his hand squeeze and palm himself through his jeans. his veins bulging from his hands and arms. 

he kicks his head back a little, lips parting and giving you a view of his outstretched neck. his adams apple bobbing with his swallows. soft moan and grunts leaving his parted lips.

“don't just stand there.” his deep voice brings you back down to reality. “blow me.”

you place the cake down on the counter (after you blow out the candle) before kneeling in front of felix. he looks down at you. his dominate aura making you feel small and vulnerable but excited.

you can feel the pit of your stomach tingle and bubble with excitement. warmth coating your groin. the tips of your fingers and toes feel electric from the surging feeling of excitement that's mixed in with hormones.

you reach up and slide your hands up and under his t-shirt. his warm skin hugs the tips of your fingers. the sturdiness of his abs flexing and tensing with his stomach moving in time with his breathing.

you feel his smooth skin, tracing his muscles with your fingers. the only thing that isn't smooth, however, is the small, yet noticeable happy trail that runs from his belly button and disappears below his jean waistband.

“mhm..” felix hums softly, your touch giving him goosebumps. you move your hands lower until they come into contact with the rough fabric of his denim jeans.

you look up at him, asking for permission with your eyes to which he gives with a nod of his head.

you unbutton and unzip his jeans slowly, revealing that he is wearing black designer boxer shorts. you notice how his bulge is slowly, but surely, getting bigger with each passing second as he anticipates and waits.

you pull his jeans down to his knees. you press the palm of your hand against his crotch, massaging him slowly. he huffs. his cock twitching against the palm of your hand.

you give him a few gentle squeezes. your touch is too gentle for his liking so he looks down again you with glossy eyes.

“harder.”

you oblige by wrapping your fingers around his clothed length and squeezing, hard. his hips buck slightly and a soft, deep moan falls from his lips.

you feel his warm hand pressing against your cheek as his fingers graze along your jawline before bumping against your bottom lip.

he slowly strokes your lip, chewing on his own. 

“look at me.” you look up at him, making eye contact. two of his fingers nudge between your lips, gently pushing past them as you part them.

“good.” he whispers as his fingers caress your tongue. your brows furrow together, lips wrapping around the two digits as you suck. your saliva coats felix's fingers thoroughly whilst he pushes them further into your mouth until they're fully encapsulated in the warmth of your mouth.

the hand that around his clothed length has slowed down and is now loosely gripping him. your groin feels hot and excited, tingles in your stomach as felix explores the inside of your mouth with his two fingers before pulling them out slowly.

he gives a satisfying ‘hm’ before instructing you to continue with the nod of his head.

you whimper a little and reach up with both hands, grabbing the waistband of his boxer shorts. your fingertips brush against his hot skin, causing felix to shiver and huff in excitement.

you slowly pull down his underwear, revealing his happy train and v-lines slowly before his erect penis is revealed, bouncing and twitching at the sudden cold air hitting his hot shaft.

felix lets out a small breath of relief. the feeling of being restrained is no longer an issue. his hips buck slightly as you wrap your hand around the base of his shaft, stroking it slowly.

you watch the man above you slowly crumble. his penis twitching, pre-cum leaking from his slit. his shaft is hot against the palm of your hand, tip red and a few veins protruding along the sides.

your hand glides up and down his penis, rotating at the top. you use the pad of your thumb to gently rub his tip, smearing the pre-cum and making his tip glisten.

the sensitivity gets to felix. his hips rocking a little in your hand against his will, thigh muscles noticeable twitching. his head flops to the side slightly, half-lidded eyes looking down at you and watching your every move.

you lean in and lick the side of his shaft a few times before pressing your tongue against his tip and swiping it several times. his salty pre-cum coats your tastes buds, making you feel more excited.

you rub your thighs together as the heat in your groin is unbearable at this point. you're desperate for some sort of friction and attention but you're too into pleasuring felix. with the way felix is right now, you know he is going to be selfish and chase his own high.

your free hand cups and caresses his balls. felix hums softly as you roll and squeeze them gently in your hand whilst kitten licking his tip.

“c’mon, baby. you know i need more than that.” 

you close your eyes as you wrap your lips around his tip. felix shudders and huffs a little, his teeth digging into his bottom lip. you gently suckle on his tip, swirling your tongue around it a few times before slowly lowering your head and pushing more of him into your mouth.

the corner of your lips feels stretched, mouth stuffed. you try to make your jaw slack but even that is a struggle with how thick and long felix is.

you struggle to put half of his length in, settling with a little under. you can feel his tip bumping the back of your throat and saliva is quick to accumulate in your mouth.

felix huffs and puffs, body shuddering and twitching. he reaches down and runs his fingers through your hair a few times. 

you start to bob your head slowly. your hand stroking what your mouth struggles to reach. the head and hand move in synch with each other, providing equally, if not more, pleasure to felix.

he feels the pleasure rushing through his veins and burning. his toes curl against the floorboards and his grip on your hair tightening with each suck as a way to keep him stable and grounded.

“...fuck … baby, m-more..” he pants.

you oblige, increasing speed and intensity. felix's moans become more intense and breathy. his body and mind failing to comprehend the intense feeling of warmth and wetness from your mouth as well as the coolness of your palm.

“... oh fuck.. yes… so fucking good…” 

this just encourages you even more. you remove your hand and place them both on his thighs for stability. you push your head further down his length until you can feel it down your throat.

you hold back your gag reflex, swallowing a few times to tighten your throat around him. felix lets out a string of incoherent moans and whispers. 

your jaw hurts. your lips hurts. your knees hurt and you can't breath but listening to felix whimper and crumble makes it all worth.

you feel him twitch in your mouth. his hips thrusting involuntarily. he's a mess and he's close.

his balls are tightening and his body is coated in a thin layer of sweat. the sensitivity of his cock head is overbearing. 

“don’t stop.. 'm close..” he struggles to say between his moaning. his strangled moans mix in with the sloppy, wet sounds of your mouth. 

he lowers his head, chin tucked into chest as he whimpers. a string of “fuck” leaves his lips as he grips onto you. it doesnt take him long. his cock twitches in your mouth, hot fluid coating your tongue and throat.

felix whimpers and whines, huffing and puffing. his body twitches and jerks. you help him ride out his orgasm before slowly pulling away. 

you look up at him, making eye contact as you swallow. felix shudders and strokes your swollen bottom lip, saliva collecting on the pad of his thumb.

“you did good, yn.” with felix's help, you rise to your feet. the numb feeling of pain on your knees becoming more noticeable now that your legs are outstretched.

“does this mean i’m forgiven?” you mumble. felix nods and strokes your hair gently.

“sorta.” you look at him slightly confused. “my birthday isn't over just yet, yn.”

“true… so, what do you want?” 

felix takes you by the hand and drags you to the bedroom. he gently throws you onto the bed, stripping himself of his clothing as you lean on your forearms and watch.

“i want so much more.” he purrs as he crawls onto the bed, towering over you and kissing the shell of your ear.

“i’m a greedy man, yn. you should know that a blowjob is not nearly enough to satisfy me.”

[starlostseungmin]

husband!chan

✰ notes: the second entry of husband!skz series!! this is just for the meantime since my brain is still not ready to write a lot. i hope you guys enjoy!! not proofread. DO NOT FORGET TO REBLOG, COMMENT AND LEAVE TAGS! thank you <33

seungmin（ chan ）lee know , jeongin , han , changbin , felix , hyunjin.

ꔛ

Husband Chan who got down on one knee and asked, “Will you marry me?” on a private beach—just the two of you���because it was his ideal proposal and you gladly said yes. 

Husband Chan who took you to (name of country) for your honeymoon. 

Husband Chan who would take you to Sydney for a vacation and meet his family. 

Husband Chan who suggested to make Berry as your child while you were still thinking about having literal kids. It doesn’t matter how long, he only needs you and Berry to make him happy.

Husband Chan who has seven children to feed and declare you as his wife. 

Husband Chan who puts you first before everything. 

Husband Chan who loves to send pictures with the caption “For your eyes only,” and giggles to himself while reading your replies saying how much he looks cute or handsomeーhe can imagine your reactions. 

Husband Chan who loves movie nights and lets you decide which one you’d be watching so you better wear the most comfortable clothes and prepare a bucket of popcorn. 

Husband Chan who cooks you a lot of food and loves spoon-feeding you because you are his precious baby. 

Husband Chan who pretends he doesn’t know about you stealing his hoodies. He doesn’t mind and gets all giddy when you wear them since they look cute on you. “I’m not giving them back,” You said. “What’s mine is yours, baby,” He smiled. 

Husband Chan who invites you out on a dinner date on a casual weekend because he knows you would enjoy it. After dinner you would stroll around the city, holding hands. 

Husband Chan who carries you to your shared bed when he finds you sleeping on the couch while waiting for him to come home from work. 

Husband Chan who writes love songs about you and gets teased by Han and Changbin. 

Husband Chan who gives you the silent treatment but can’t put up with it for hours so he just pretends nothing happened and cuddles you. 

Husband Chan who knows what exactly you want when you’re upset and would gladly take you in his arms. He never leaves your side unless you want some space but you can’t be away from him for too long. 

Husband Chan who scolds you when you are not resting enough when he’s out there overworking himself. You decided that both of you should take a few days off which he willingly agreed to so he can spend more time with you. 

Husband Chan who lets himself be vulnerable when he’s with you because you’re the only one with whom he could let it all out. 

Husband Chan who loves to spoil you with hugs whenever you need them. 

Husband Chan who listens and understands whatever situation and dilemmas you have without any judgments rather he reassures you that everything will be okay. He gives you his full support for your decisions. 

Husband Chan who knows everyone in the industry so he knows a lot of controversies. He would share them with you on a random Sunday to gossip and giggle. 

Husband Chan who loves to make dad jokes and relays pick-up lines just to make you laugh. He gets embarrassed when it’s not funny so he hides in the bathroom until you get over it.

Husband Chan whose love languages are physical touch, words of affirmation, and acts of service. 

Husband Chan who has the most precious smile and laughs adorably makes your heart leap. 

Husband Chan whom you love the most in the world and will not let anything hurt him. 

Husband Chan whom you want to spend the rest of your life with, forever and always. 

Husband Chan who will never leave, never lets you go, and never allow you to divorce him because there’s no reason to begin with. He loves you, you love him, same story. 

✰ taglist: @notastraykid , @ameliesaysshoo , @l3visbby , @reignessance , @lix-ables , @skzfelixlove , @rachabreathing , @hyunverse , @minluvly , @sleepyleeji , @starseungs , @midsoulz , @oddracha , @armystay89

©️ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐈𝐍 , 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒.

[seokgyuu]

After your flawless job-interview, Seokmin hires you as the newest addition to his company. Just that, once you start, it seems like you’re not who you previously portrayed to be. Instead, he finds himself faced with mini-skirts, push-up bras and gawking co-workers, not to mention your absolute lack of work ethic. Obviously, he needs to fire you! Just that, when he tries to… you simply don’t let him.

Pairing: Boss!Seokmin x Employee!F!Reader

Genre: Porn with the smallest bits of plot, workplace “romance”, Smut MDNI!

Warnings: Morally gray characters, Seokmin is obviously reader’s boss and shouldn’t be fucking her, power imbalance, reader gets objectified a lot, but she enjoys it, reader is… acting very dumb (on purpose), Smut warnings under the cut!

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: Hi everyone!! welcome to this little work of… filth! Making my return with a Seokmin fic just felt right (also I just could not stop thinking about this). Please let me know what you think with a reply or a reblog, it would mean the world to me!! also a big thanks to @shadowkoo for making this AMAZING banner and to @bitchlessdino for beta-ing!!

tagging: @okiedokrie, @inkchwe, @shinysobi, @gyuhanniescarat, @haologram, @beomcoups @wongyuseokie, @the-boy-meets-evil, @multi-kpop-fanfics (just some of my fellow dk enjoyers)

Smut Warnings: oral (m receiving), face fucking, praise (good girl, etc.), degradation (whore, etc.), unprotected sex, titjob, breeding, usage of the word “Sir” in a sexual context, tell me if i missed anything!

His phone rings. The Harry Potter title music is playing, letting him know it’s his sister calling. He can’t pick up, or well, no, he can, considering his hands are free, but he probably shouldn’t.

Having talks with his employees about having to let them go is Seokmin’s least favorite thing about being the boss. He never wants anyone to feel like they weren’t good enough or couldn’t live up to any expectations, but sometimes… sometimes it was inevitable.

Like with you.

When you had first walked into your interview, you impressed him with your sharp tongue and your witty humor. Your resume looked perfect for the job, and your previous experience was exactly what he needed. He hired you the following week and deemed his decision a good one - until you showed up for your first day.

See, before anything else, Seokmin is simply just a man. A man with eyes and needs and desires.

The mini skirt barely covered your backside, showed off your legs and those perfect thighs you had hidden from sight before. Your dress shirt would have been fine for the office if only it wasn’t… half open. Or at least open enough to see your breasts almost falling out of your push-up bra.

He knew back then that he should say something. Tell you that this wasn’t appropriate to wear to work. But he didn’t. For the same reason, his mostly male staff began coming into work more punctually, more eagerly and stayed for even longer hours.

It was a mistake, he thinks now, not to say anything to you on your first day. Or any other day after that.

A mistake or the single best decision he had ever made.

Truth be told, he’d never called you into his office to discuss his decision to let you go if it was only about the clothes (or lack thereof) you wore to work. No, he was fine with the clothes, more than fine, actually, if you took just one look at the amount of tissues discarded in his office’s trash can.

But… you lacked certain skills he had thought you’d easily have, considering your previous jobs. You struggled doing, in his opinion, the most basic tasks, and more or less let the others do the work for you. The work he paid you to do. Instead, you sat at your desk all day and played Solitaire or scrolled on Instagram.

The two of you almost never interacted, mainly because he was scared to say the wrong thing or stare too long at your breasts he couldn’t stop thinking about anyway. When it did happen that he had to talk to you, it mostly went with him going back to his office with a raging boner and a guilty conscience.

One time, he brought back some prints from the copy room, only to find out you had been the one to print them. When he asked around the room and you were the one to raise your hand and get up from your chair he almost choked on his spit. You made your way over him, your tight dress hugging every single one of your curves, the slit in the side showing off where your stockings began, the neckline down far enough for him to see the lacy material of your bra once again.

“Thank you, Mr. Lee, Sir,” you smiled at him, your fingers touching his when you reached for the pile of papers. He felt like you shot him and as a result, he shot a huge load of cum into one of his tissues when he was back in his office.

Then, he met you at the coffee maker one time, witnessing you eat a fucking banana in one god damned bite. He couldn’t believe his eyes when you basically deepthroated the fruit all while looking directly into his eyes. He popped a boner right then and there.

All in all, it was safe to say the woman he had met in the interview was gone and he had absolutely no clue why or how he had let you fool him that day you met.

A part of him was angry at himself for letting it get this far, but he couldn’t deny that with every glimpse of your exposed ass and tits, with every encounter like the prints or the banana, he decided to give you one last chance to prove yourself. So far he had given you about 151 chances and you’d screwed up all of them.

Which is how he ended up calling you into his office.

Which is how you ended up sitting in front of his desk on one of the comfortable dark red armchairs, your legs crossed, yet another mini-skirt rising up far enough for Seokmin to at least imagine he can smell you. The shirt you were wearing was tight and cropped and your blazer was lazily hung over the back of the armchair.

“So, Y/N,” he began, shifting on his seat and trying very hard not to look at your tits, “do you have any idea why I called you in here?”

You shook your head no.

“No, sir, I don’t. Did I do something wrong?”

Sir. Oh good lord, Seokmin had to swallow down the pathetic moan he feels creeping up his throat.

“Well,” he cleared his throat, “I have noticed that you’ve been handing your work off to Chan a lot. Soonyoung as well, and while I understand you’re the newest employee, you have been here for almost five months now, Y/N, and I did expect you to already, you know, do at least a certain amount of work by yourself.”

Your eyes widened the more he spoke, your pout prominent once he finished.

“I’m sorry, Sir, truly! They always offered to help me and I just- I just didn’t want to disappoint them,” your voice strained, almost sounding like you were about to start crying. Seokmin felt his heart speed up.

“I understand that. But still - it must make sense to you that-,”

You jumping up from your chair made him stop mid sentence. He watched how you stalked over to him, your big eyes staring him down with something he couldn’t pinpoint even if he tried.

“It does make sense, Sir, and I want to apologize. I can do better, please don’t fire me.”

Seokmin was frozen in his chair, his seated figure looking up at you, almost panicking when he realized how close you were. If he raised his hand now, he could touch your thigh, could let it slip higher, could-

“Please, Mr. Lee, I’d do anything to keep this job.”

Which is how we get to… now.

His phone is still ringing on the desk, but he’s still nowhere near answering it. He is too focused on your mouth around his rock-hard cock, on the way you look up at him with watery eyes, on the way your hand is fondling his aching balls.

You dropping to your knees might have been the single most hottest thing he has ever seen before. Or well, maybe this right now tops it. Your tongue is flat against his shaft, dragging it along his veins, licking up all the precum that doesn’t directly land in your mouth. You suck on his tip, tease his slit, and moan when you take him all the way.

And Seokmin? He thinks he might have just entered heaven. His hands are itching to touch you, to push you down and fuck up, to lose control, but he doesn’t. Instead, he watches you with his mouth dropped, with his heart going at triple speed in his chest.

This is wrong. So, so wrong! He shouldn’t let you suck his cock as a way to keep your job, for god’s sake!

Once his tip crashes against the back of your throat, his mind goes blank, and all the thoughts from before disappear. They make room for new thoughts instead, thoughts that finally allow him to do what he wanted to from the second you had walked in on your first day.

The groan he lets out causes you to drip into your panties. And the way his hands now find the back of your head almost makes you come. Your eyes roll back for a second, before you bring them back to look at your boss.

Your extremely hot, perfect boss who took so fucking long to bring you into his office. Who could not take a hint at-fucking-all.

He begins to thrust up into your throat, letting out moans you wish you could record and replay as many times as you wished. His cock is big, just as big as you had hoped it to be. He’s veiny and perfect and his angry red tip is going to become your favorite thing to suck on. He tastes salty and sweet and bitter at the same time, melts on your tongue, and gets you to clench around absolutely nothing.

“Fuck,” he cries out when he picks up his speed, nails digging into your scalp as he continues his hard and fast thrusts, his cock beginning to twitch, his balls tightening dangerously. You need him, want him and almost demand him to come down your throat. To give you everything he has to offer. You press your tongue harder against his shaft, cheeks hollowed out, and you can feel his orgasm nearing with every passing second.

“I’m gonna- fu-fuck, I’m gonna c-come!” His cry is almost taking you over the edge too.

Seokmin sees red and white at the same time, opens his eyes, and stares down at you with his pupils blown and his cock finally emptying his seed inside your awaiting mouth. It almost breaks him, seeing how you swallow all of his cum like a pro, never breaking eye contact.

Breathless, Seokmin slowly gets down from his high, watching how you lick up his cock, your eyes twinkling with mischief, giving his tip a small kiss before finally leaning back, batting your eyelashes.

“So tasty, Mr. Lee. Now, should I get back to work?”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It kind of becomes a thing. At the beginning, Seokmin calls you into his office and you suck his cock, make him come, go back to work. All while still wearing your skimpy outfits to work and doing the minimum requirements to not be a complete waste of Seokmin’s money. Even though he figures with a cold shiver running down his spine, it seems like he’s paying you for something totally different now.

You’re enjoying this to the fullest, having a right out blast. Not just because you get to have Seokmin fuck your throat every other day, no, but because of how he looks at you. When you met him that first day at the interview, you already knew you wanted him. Knew he was going to be your next little project. So far you had never failed, and you sure as hell weren’t going to start now.

Working at the company for five months hadn’t exactly been your plan, though. Five months until he finally called you into his office. Five months of you choosing the most outrageous outfits, knowing every single man in that office wanted a taste of you, but only wanting one of them to actually act on it.

“Holy fucking hell, yeah, just- just like that,” he’s leaning against the wall behind his desk, you back on your knees, his cock hitting the soft inside of your cheek over and over again. He’s holding onto your hair with one hand while the other is pressed against the wall next to him. You lick and suck and fuck his cock against your cheek, drool running down your chin. You’re painfully wet, throbbing, and needing him to finally put his cock in you.

By now (3 weeks after your little blowjob-job started) you know his tells, can sense when he’s about to come. So, when you hear that first little noise, you let go of his cock with a plop and get up. Seokmin’s eyes open and he looks at you, visibly confused.

“Wha-,” he begins, but you just take a step forward and crush your lips against his, your hands grabbing his face.

For the first few seconds, Seokmin doesn’t really grasp the situation. You’re kissing him. He begins to melt, his hands somehow finding their way to your waist and when you lead him back, suddenly seated on his desk, his mind goes blank. You want him to fuck you. Want his cock to go inside that probably sweet tasting pussy of yours. He moans into your mouth.

“Take me, Mr. Lee, please, need your cock in me, need you to fuck me,” you whisper into his ear, biting his earlobe after and sighing in relief when he immediately moves to get your panties off of you.

“Fuck, fuck, you’re so hot.” He kisses you again, wild and uncontrolled, your panties now landing on the floor. You part your legs and grab his cock, bringing it to your awaiting entrance. There is no stopping the moan that escapes you once his tip slips in, your teeth sinking into his bottom lip harshly. He licks over your teeth, feels his mind fog up, no thoughts just you, you, you.

Then, he’s fully inside of you. Twitches, groans, kisses you harder. And fucks you like a god-damned beast.

The pace he sets is brutal and you’re lucky it’s after hours so no one is at the office anymore. They for sure would have heard the way the desk is bouncing against the floor with every thrust as well as your high pitched moans, and Seokmin’s low growls.

He fucks you like he owns you and you live for it. His cock drags along your walls, fills you like he was made for you, hits your sweet spot over and over again as if he’d done this thousand times before.

“Fuck, yes!” You basically scream, your body falling backward, only his strong hands holding you up as he speeds up once more.

“God, shit, how are you so tight, baby?” He moves to kiss your neck, licks over the salty skin, revels in your taste, in the way you shiver under his touch. You wanna scream and cry and mark his body with your mouth and nails - and so you begin to pull on the hem of his shirt, which he gladly helps you to take off completely.

He’s built like a god. Wide shoulders, bulked up arms, abs like they were painted on. You let your nails drag over his torso, finally sliding them to his strong, muscular back. When he pushes into you even more, his lips not getting enough of your own, you dig into his flesh and hear him hiss. Still, he doesn’t stop. If anything, he goes even harder. Fucks you til you scream his name while experiencing the most intense orgasm of your life, milking his cock of all he had, cum filling your pussy to the brim.

After that it spirals.

He fucks you every chance he gets. He is addicted to you and your pussy. Whenever he needs you, he gets to have you.

He bends you over his desk during work hours, drilling into your pussy like a mad man while pressing his hand over your mouth to make sure no one notices. He comes inside you and stuffs it all back in there with his fingers, pulls your panties back up and sends you out to continue your work day as before.

When lunch time comes around, you meet him in the building’s cafeteria and he drags you to the nearest supply closet to fuck your mouth and then your cunt, telling you what a good little slut you are and how well you always take him.

He sends you pictures of his hard cock after work, begging you to come to his place and bounce on him - but you never do. It’s a game for both of you. No fucking outside of work, no dates or anything like that. He gets to keep fucking you and you get to keep your job - easy as that.

Just that… you’re not really bad at your job. Seokmin is slow to figure that one out, you realize.

When your seventh month at the company begins, he is so focused on getting his cock inside of you, he doesn’t even notice you’ve stopped handing off your assignments to your colleagues. You’ve actually grown quite fond of this job and the team - and Seokmin for that matter. Not that you want to admit that to him, or confess that you’ve been playing this part of the dumb girl with the slutty outfits simply to get his attention.

“I love when you get to the office with no panties on, gods, you’re a dirty little whore.” Seokmin’s hands are on your ass while you bounce on his cock. He’s sitting on his desk chair, admiring the view of your tits as you fuck yourself on his cock. His dirty words make your pussy flutter around him and you whimper, your hands braced on his shoulders.

“Mhmm, only a whore for you, Mr. Lee,” you moan, biting down on your lip. There is no chance you’ll ever grow tired of seeing the way he looks at you when you fuck. His hooded eyes, his red lips dropped open. His cheeks flushed and his hair a mess.

You enjoy being on top, enjoy watching him watch you, setting your own pace until he can’t hold back any longer and wraps his arm around your waist, pushing you down so he can fuck into you at his desired speed.

“That’s right, you’re my whore, your pussy belongs only to me.” He squeezes your ass cheeks and moans when you clench around him again, thrusting his hips up once. You can tell he’s about to lose control, about to hold you down and fuck you senseless. There is nothing quite as hot as Seokmin losing his composure.

Just two days ago, you teased him by being flirty with Soonyoung all day. Seokmin had not thought of himself as possessive, but somehow when it came to you…

Safe to say, he fucked you against his office door two minutes after your last encounter with Soonyoung, simply shoving up your skirt and ripping off your panties, his cock deeply buried inside of you the next second. He fucked you so hard you couldn’t properly walk even the day after.

“Yes, Mr. Lee, my pussy belongs to you, I am yours, Sir.”

You bounce on his cock quicker now, throwing your head back when his hands move to your breasts, taking them both into his hands and cradling them. His fingers press onto your nipples, squeezing them between his thumb and forefinger, pinching and teasing you. With every touch of his, you feel yourself nearing your high.

“You’re so beautiful, always so good for me, isn’t that right?” He breathes out, licking his lips as his eyes are glued to the way your tits look between his hands.

He fucked them a few days ago, your tits. Had you kneeling between his legs, squeezing them together as he fucked his cock between them with the lube he now stored in his bottom drawer. They had felt amazing around him, but nothing compared to your cunt, to its warmth, to its tightness.

“Oh- oh! I’m- I’m gonna come, Mr. Lee! Please, can I come?!” Your orgasm is so close, is ready to crash down on you and when Seokmin moaned out a yes, you let it happen. Waves and waves of pleasure erupt in your body and make you fall forward against his chest, his hips now beginning to thrust up, his moans turning more and more desperate.

“Good girl, such a good girl, fuck- I’m gonna fill you up, yeah? Fill you up with my cum, breed you like my own personal whore, hm?”

Your nails dig into his skin desperately as he fucks you fast and hard, his right arm now around your waist, pressing you down while he uses you for his pleasure, crying out your name when he comes - white hot cum landing inside your spent pussy, painting it the colours of his affection for you.

Seokmin fucks both of you through your orgasms, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, kissing your lips passionately when his hips still. You kiss him back, arms wrapping around his neck, your high still present in your bones.

“You’re perfect,” Seokmin mumbles against your lips and you smile, kissing him again, fingers brushing through his hair.

For a while, you make-out just like that, him still safely buried inside of you, some bits of your combined releases dripping down onto his chair.

Only when Seokmin’s phone rings do the two of you part. You give his cheek a small kiss before climbing off his lap and looking for your underwear, all while you put your dress back into its place. Your boss watches you, wishes he could just do this all over again instead of answering his phone. Reluctantly, he takes the call and watches how you wave at him, panties back on and clothes and shoes back where they belong. He waves back, greeting the business partner on the other line.

And when you leave his office and close the door behind you, when none of your co-workers even pay you any mind, you realize that maybe you like to keep it this way for just a little while longer.