#Lab Accuracy
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Urine PCR testing has revolutionized diagnostics with its high sensitivity and specificity. However, it’s essential to recognize its limitations to ensure accurate and effective use. In a medical laboratory in Holiday, Florida, the reliability of urine PCR testing can be influenced by several factors.
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quick Carlos & Charles collage ❤️❤️
| 📸 pumamotorsport + Esquire via sabrinabearzotti
#carlos sainz#charles leclerc#charlos#I adore making collages and the Esquire shoot is EVERYTHING to me omg Carlos' white lab coat esque jacket???????#I need to find HQs or get a copy fr fr#also I cannot believe I get into F1 and my fave driver duo is splitting T_T#but Charles and Lewis will be so fun I think!!!#manifesting Carlos to Red Bull which will Not happen (seems like a lot of behind the scenes tension? according to reddit#which is reddit so like not a bastion of accuracy lol)#tbh Daniel and Max at Red Bull would be the more likely dream!!!!#I just hope Carlos gets a spot for 2025#certainly he must but maybe he'll take a by-year? not sure how silly season shakes out just yet as a newbie fan#but at least for Charlos there is so much content to enjoy from the past!!!#also commonly asked q but why are they always blindfolded 👁️👁️#absolutely zero complaints but someone at Ferrari has the vision#anyways idk I love making collages and yapping in the tags but there is NO WAY I'd do all this yammering on someone else's post#so I think I'll make collages and chat away here no pressure to read all this LOL ❤️ hehe just sipping coffee before office time#if you are reading this I hope you have a great timezone whereever you are!!!!!! 🌆🏙️🌃#autumn posts
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i fucking hate taking vitamin tablets right i think thats nasty as hell so instead i have vitamin gummies and those dissolvable lads u slap in your water and get insta yummy fizzie vitamin drink from :-) being an adult means im healthy and i take my vitamins in a FUN WAY
#getting these gummies sent me into a hugeass research spiral about american vitamins#the labels on vitamins do not have to be accurate. the fda does not review what is in vitamins.#one of the gummies i bought is an american brand and i went deep into research spirals includong finding lab analyses#of one of the gummies and an accuracy report on the ingredients#this brand is ok but god. i will never take a vitamin in the us that scared the shit outta me#theres heavy metals in some o those vitamins. yikers
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Which Lab is Best in Accuracy
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VJ Instruments Plethysmometer: Streamlining Lab Processes with Precision
"The quest for precision has always been the driving force of scientific progress." In volumetric analysis and fluid displacement measurements, the VJ Instruments Plethysmometer represents the remarkable innovation that is changing the current face of lab daily operations.
Understanding Modern Plethysmometry
The precision and reliability of measurement instruments determine the laboratory's efficiency. The Plethysmometer VJ Instruments is the epitome of a breakthrough in volumetric analysis technology, making it the real test-tube success tool for researchers and lab technicians to achieve accurate measurements while working effectively.
Key Areas Under Investigation
Pharmaceutical development and research
Testing of medical devices
Study of materials science
Analyzing biological samples
Quality control measures
Putting Great Design into Functionality
The VJ Instruments Plethysmometer shows excellent engineering, addressing many common laboratory issues. Its compact design optimizes bench space without sacrificing functionality or accessibility.
Design Feat Features:
Ergonomic control panel with intuitive interface
High-resolution digital display
Spill-resistant housing
Quick-release sample chamber
Vibration-dampening feet
The modular design guarantees quick maintenance and easy cleaning, minimizing downtime between measurements. This attention to practical details reflects a deep understanding of lab workflows and the need for uninterrupted operation.
Accuracy That Moves Forward
In terms of measurement, the VJ Instruments Plethysmometer sets a new standard for precision:
±0.1% measurement accuracy across the entire sample size range
Real-time temperature compensation
Automatic calibration verification
Digital data logging with timestamp capabilities
Export functionality in various file formats
These features ensure that researchers can trust their results while spending less time verifying measurements, leading to faster and more accurate lab experiments.
Overcoming Common Laboratory Challenges
Laboratories face several challenges that the VJ Instruments Plethysmometer tackles head-on:
Time Management:
30-second cycle of measurement for any sample
Batch processing capabilities
Automated cleaning cycles
Data Quality:
Built-in error detection
Sample tracking system
Automated measurement recording
Resource Optimization:
Minimal sample preparation required
Lower reagent consumption
Energy-saving due to efficiency
Investment That Pays Dividends
Investing in a VJ Instruments Plethysmometer is more than just acquiring equipment; it's an investment in efficiency and accuracy that yields real returns:
Financial Benefits:
Reduced labor costs with automation
Less sample waste
Reduced maintenance needs
Extended calibration intervals
Operational Benefits:
Improved throughput
Increased reliability of measurements
Enhanced documentation compliance
Simplified training requirements
Support to Your Success
VJ Instruments backs up its plethysmometer with robust support:
Initial assistance with setup and calibration
Staff training programs
Technical support hotline
Scheduled software updates
Preventive maintenance services
Model 1400 VJ Instruments Plethysmometer: Find Your Perfect Solution
When choosing lab equipment, consider whether the VJ Instruments Plethysmometer fits your needs:
Top Questions You Should Ask:
What sample sizes do you typically handle?
How important is measurement speed to your processes?
How crucial is high accuracy to your procedures?
How will automatic data collection transform your documentation process?
Typically, the answers to these questions highlight why the VJ Instruments Plethysmometer becomes the top choice for labs focused on efficiency and accuracy.
Future Outlook
The progress in laboratory equipment demands more advanced yet user-friendly tools. The VJ Instruments Plethysmometer strikes the ideal balance between cutting-edge technology and practical use, making it a valuable asset for any forward-thinking laboratory.
Enhance your lab's capabilities—get in touch with VJ Instruments to discover how their plethysmometer can revolutionize your measurements and ignite a new level of precision and efficiency in your research.
#Plethysmometer#VJ Instruments#Lab Equipment#Lab Processes#Precision Tools#Scientific Instruments#Research Tools#Lab Efficiency#Medical Devices#Data Accuracy#Innovation In Lab#Biomedical Research
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I second that I also would rather marathon Frank Henenlotter's entire filmography than sit through Oppenheimer at all…Oppenheimer will never be as good as the cinema masterpiece that is frankenhooker and I’m serious
I watched Oppenheimer last night and unironically, I'm being one hundred percent serious, you could watch Frankenhooker twice in the same amount of time and you'd get more out of it.
#and I'm being so for real here: Frankenhooker has a more diverse cast#for a movie about the guy who killed upwards of 100 thousand japanese people it sure has literally no japanese people in it#also no Hispanic people despite them LIVING ON THE LAND WHERE OPPENHEIMER'S LAB WAS BUILT AND BEING FORCED OUT BY THE GOVERNMENT#i don't want anyone crying “historically accuracy” because there were more than just white people in the true history#anyway Frankenhooker is a better movie than Oppenheimer even on a story level#Oppenheimer's script is a mess#horror#horror movies#movies#80s horror#80s film#frank henenlotter#frankenhooker#oppenheimer
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Fusions! :D ✨
< part one >
Description of the fusions:
Citrine is the perfect blend of calculated genius and unhinged ambition. With the cold precision of engineer and the fervor of medic, and his many mechanical arms that move with precise accuracy, he is as captivating as he is terrifying
charming yet unsettling, he likes pushing the boundaries of science and logic. Citrine speaks with a smooth, calculated confidence, always one step ahead, never not prepared
Weapon: The Shock Therapy (one of Medic’s melee weapons from TF2 classic) he can shoot little capsules to heal his teammates (just like Crusaders Crossbow/ Rescue Ranger) and give shocks to who ever he punches. whether he id building, healing, or “improving” those around him, one thing is certain: with Citrine in the lab, science is never boring
Sugilite, yes he is entirely inspired by the artist Prince, it started accidentally, whenever i work on his design it will always lean into Prince’s purple rain outfit, so i simply took it xD
he is the embodiment of chaos wrapped in velvet and mixed with stardust. He moves with the grace of a performer, every step a dance, every word is dripping with charm
He speaks in a voice as rich as a glass of wine, but his mind is full of mischief and unpredictable power. he’ll sweep you off your feet with a silver tongued compliment, only to forget about you the next second. He treats war more like an extravagant party where he is both the host and grand finale
Weapons: disco-ball bombs/ smoke bombs. he uses his bombs and when he wants to make a dramatic exit, he’ll toss one of his disco bombs at the ground and a burst of sparkling smoke fills the battlefield, letting him vanish in a cloud of colors and dust
Kunzite is silence, just like a ghost in the night, a presence felt but never seen. moving with grace, he is as precise as he is elusive, striking his blade only when the moment is right. his piercing purple eyes sees every weakness, every flaw, every opportunity, his long cape drifts behind him like smoke, his steps lighter than a whisper
Kunzite does not talk. he can, but prefers not to. A single look from him speaks more than an entire conversation, and his presence alone is enough to make even the most hardened gems uneasy. he is neither cruel nor kind, neither merciful nor sadistic, he is simply exists in the quiet. by the time you realize he’s there, it’s already too late
Weapon: darts + hidden blades. The darts he carries, are launched with the precise accuracy of a huntsman. And when the distance closes, the hidden blades beneath his wrists strike with the speed of an assassin, no hesitation, no excess force, just cold, calculated efficiency
Rainbow Quartz (kind of takes the place of Stevonnie) they are a ball of both energy and strategy, they lay between calculated precision and impulsive enthusiasm. They are loyal, affectionate and very clumsy. They often feel insecure and constantly have the need to prove themselves. but beneath their playful personality lies a sharp mind, constantly adjusting, and planning their next move, even if their feet sometimes move faster than their brain
They follows orders with lots of enthusiasm, sometimes a little too much, leading to moments of clumsiness. they’ll execute a plan flawlessly then right up trip over their own momentum, sending themselves (and sometimes their enemies) tumbling in a chaotic mess. but give them a goal, and they’ll chase it with relentless determination, never backing down until the job is done.
Weapon: the Flying Guillotine, its fast, unpredictable, and devastating in the right hands. just like them, it can be unpredictable, but when it hits, it hits hard
#tf2 x su au#my art#tf2 fusion au#tf2 fusions#tf2#team fortress 2#tf2 spy#tf2 medic#tf2 engineer#tf2 demoman#tf2 sniper#tf2 miss pauling#tf2 scout#tf2 science party#engiemedic#tf2 bombe voyage#demospy#bombe voyage#prince#tf2 bloody suit#bloody suit#sniperspy#tf2 sniperspy#sniper x spy#demoman x spy#scout x miss pauling#stevonnie#fan art#lennylink
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𝙃𝙚𝙭𝙚𝙙 <3
Side note can we talk about how this version of Viktor and hexcore (rainbow) Viktor are the best versions of him? Did bro say Glorious Ovulation because holyyyyyyyyyyyy 0///0
𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧: Viktor my beloved <3
𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: Just general romantic/some NSFW headcanons for my favorite boy. You can picture these with whichever Viktor you want (I guess), but I feel S1 Viktor fits best.
𝘾𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜: NSFW themes (edging, eating out, praise kink on both sides if you squint, public sex fantasies), AFAB reader (mostly intended to be fem! reader but I'll be extra careful for my nonbinary/ftm friends)
𝙍𝙤𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙘 𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣𝙨
First off, I wholeheartedly believe in asexual/gay Viktor, and I am 100% a JayVik shipper, but a girl can also dream that he's bisexual with a male preference. It's a stretch, I know.
That's what we get for liking our men fruity.
Absolutely adores acts of service (his favorite), but physical touch (like the forehead touch that zaunites do, and other subtle movements) and verbal reassurance are things that make him feel appreciated.
Not huge on displaying his affections anywhere but in private. Nobody would even know that you guys are together and he likes it that way. He already has enough eyes on him, though they're mainly on Jayce.
Not big on names either, and idk if Czech exists in the LoL universe (as saddening as it is). He sticks with mentioning you as his "partner," though a "love" will sometime slip out when the two of you are alone.
"Can you please pass me those notes, my love?" "Do you need any help, love? You look... frustrated." "My cane is all the way across the room, can you please bring it to me, my love?"
You have to try your damnedest to either get into his lab to see him or to get him to turn in for the night. He reasons that this research is vital to his well-being, but so is rest. It usually doesn't work, so you at least bring him something to eat/drink.
I look at that man and think "pathetic twink," but with his attitude/personality, I can actually see him as more of a dominant figure in a romantic relationship. He is very sassy, he is assertive, and he is blunt. He doesn't look like he'd be like that, so it's a welcome surprise.
Generally a patient partner and is perfectly fine with slow-moving relationships. Actually, he prefers them. Not only does he enjoy the feeling of quiet, calm yearning, but he sees no reason for turbulence if one is trying to create a lifelong connection (which is what he generally looks for).
Viktor is all-around really thoughtful, and even when you don't think he's listening, he'll remember the events of your day with perfect accuracy and even the food you mentioned eating this morning. Even the way you phrase things, he has sharp memory and is very considerate and attentive.
𝙉𝙎𝙁𝙒 𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣𝙨
I headcanon that he is 100% a virgin
Switch, but top leaning. Let me explain.
Just as I said he was more dominant in romantic relationships, once he is comfortable with a partner, he also becomes more sexually dominant as well. This might take him a while but I SWEAR it's worth it.
Limited mobility hinders a lot of things he wishes he could do (he'd be more experimental if not for it). He sometimes psychs himself out and gets a little worried that he's leaving you unsatisfied.
His back specifically makes it hard for him to completely bend or move around, so he’s often either sitting or laying down. (Also suffers whenever he arches his back out of pleasure)
Please tell this man he’s perfect or even sufficient the way he is, compliment his waist/back, his thin face, his thin frame, anything he is insecure about. He secretly loves this, and he has an inferiority complex due to his many ailments and his social status (as he is still from Zaun.)
More of a giver than a receiver, he takes more pleasure in feeling your fingers in his hair while he overstimulates you with his tongue. Very skilled for someone who has NEVER done that stuff.
He is such a sweet dom, mostly ever lets out whimpers and small moans, as well as pure, sweet compliments, or the very rare tease. However, if you ever hear him curse under his breath, you know it's good.
Prettiest fucked-out expression EVER, eyes rolled back, head thrown back, back arching, the whole shabang.
Mainly has you riding him, his face, etc. One time he told you that you didn't need to hover and it was okay for a LITTLE but then he found it difficult. He still loves to have you fully seated while he works his magic.
Into edging and is really cheeky about it. He'll make the most smug expressions while eating you out or... rather, stopping before you finish. Part of him likes seeing you struggle, it's funny to him.
Absolutely communication driven, but gets a bit more confident as the relationship progresses. He doesn't want to overstep, and wants to know what you want/don't want, but will make use of that knowledge later.
Cannot be coerced out of work with sex. Thanks for trying. Maybe when he gets home, but he's usually either sleeps at the lab or is too sleepy at home. It is an unwelcome distraction and it genuinely frustrates him.
Speaking of the lab, he does feel really flustered and ashamed to admit that he has fantasies about you sitting on the desk and him going at it-- tongue, dick, all of it. It isn't a huge thing for him, but it pops into his head every once in a while.
11/10 aftercare, though you wish your already debilitated partner wouldn't try to rush around after he exerted himself so much. He rushes around to get you cleaned up, make you tea, all of it. He insists on doing things for you first.
I hope I fed the Viktor enjoyers, I love you guys and hope you're doing well after the events of S2. Stay strong Viktor nation, and as for Jayce...?
Jaybe.
This is my first Arcane headcanon post and definitely not my last. :D
Thanks for reading! Rosey <3
♡MASTERLIST HERE♡
Ⓒ Written by Rosey,��please do not copy/repost/translate.♡
#fanfiction#viktor arcane#viktor league of legends#viktor x reader#afab reader#female reader#writing#arcane#arcane x reader#arcane x female reader#arcane headcanon#arcane smut#viktor my beloved#I'm in love with a rockin twink who would under no circumstances ever like me back </3#arcane jesus#twink jesus#smut headcanons#smut fanfic#fanfic#headcanons post#headcanon
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salted caramel | lmh ( m )
you hadn’t been aware that mark’s jealousy followed the rules of baseball — three strikes, and he snaps?
read the first part here!
pairing: barista!bf!mark x reader verse: college!au rating: r warnings&tags: unprotected sex, mentions of creampies (although not an actual one), hickeys, possessiveness and jealousy, exhibitionism, sort of phone sex in conjunction with said exhibitionism, oral (m!receiving), mark has an understated but unending obsession with mc’s stomach, tummy bulges, we always love an implicit bigdick!mark, donghyuck is kind of a little shit and basically he has to cross a few lines for this “plot” to get to where it gets word count: 20.3k
a/n: this is a bit rushed and panicked because I basically wrote it in a feverish 2.5ish days… i’m so sorry that the pacing might be a little off, especially since I can never tell if it’s actually too fast or not. this is also unedited and unbeta’d but oh well because i never edit my stuff before posting and just re-edit when I re-read! regardless, i hope it’s something that you can enjoy, and i couldn’t pick between sweetest bf ever!mark and hottest mf ever!mark, so i guess you get a little bit of both!
if you liked it, please consider reblogging to support (especially because this may get flagged for mature content)!
You should have noticed it the first time, but in your overall defense, you find most things that you take note of about Mark Lee to be more on the highly positive and greatly endearing side — or, maybe, you just have a tendency to paint him in that kind of light.
You can’t really help it; he’s still got that halfway shy, softly adoring look in his eyes whenever he sees you, which is more often now than ever before, and you just can’t do anything but reciprocate, if only to see his eyes grow a little brighter. You wonder if Mark’s aware that if this were a Shakespearean scenario, you’d easily fall on your sword for him without question, for as long as he asked, but you don’t think there’s any pressing need to remind him — not with the way you spend most of your free time figuring out ways to be with him. You’re certain he should know, what with the fact that every time he looks at you, even just a glimpse, your gaze is always on him, ready to make eye contact whenever he turns his head — something he often acknowledges with one of those signature blushes that spread like wildfire across his cheeks, up to the tips of his ears.
It also should be unmistakably clear that you’re head over heels for him, given how at least once a week, he’s got his face buried between your legs in an attempt to hear the thing he wants you to say the most (see: his name, in varying pitches and decibels) — but if he doesn’t notice then, you can’t hold it against him; Mark’s mouth is so attentive that you doubt his mind is anywhere else apart from what inch of you his tongue is going to meet next in that moment. At least, that much is true for you.
He should at least know, what with you waiting for his classes to end so you can walk to Starbucks for his afternoon shift; you even race the twenty-minute distance to the Department of Mathematics, still holding your European Renaissance History textbook from your last lecture, just to make sure you’re there right as he gets out — a fact he has to know is an act of devotion, considering how often he finds you heaving for air and leaning your back against the brick wall outside the Accounting 150 Lab. Even his professor knows you as Mark Lee’s admirer, which is all well and good, but if you had the breath to spare, you’d correct his terminology for accuracy. Girlfriend. You’re Mark Lee’s girlfriend.
It’s a fact you don’t mind reminding him of but that you actually have to do quite often, because when you call Mark the appropriate counterpart — boyfriend — his eyes still widen, like he’s hearing it for the first time. It’s cute, just like everything else about him. You just have to wonder, at times, if he doesn’t believe you.
Whatever. It doesn’t matter; you’ll just keep telling him.
You don’t have any classes with Mark this semester, which is a shame, considering your favorite pastime over the last few months had just been to stare at his side profile and wish he’d look over so you could kiss him, but the fact that you spend almost every day with him now, using that time to remind him of how much you want to kiss him and actually getting it to do it right then and there, pretty much more than makes up for your previous schedule of daydreaming.
However, hanging out with him doesn’t always mean you’re just with him; you came to learn this after the first week of the new semester, and you’ve now gotten used to the fact that with Mark Lee sometimes comes his band of tall, often loud friends.
The loudest by far is Lee Donghyuck, the mysterious figure last semester that you’d only known by one syllable, now easily recognizable (and no longer enigmatic by any means to you) by his booming voice and even more demanding personality. He’s supremely outgoing, a trait you can’t say you mind, but there’s an interesting contrast between Mark, who tends to say things after carefully considering his ideas, and Donghyuck, who seems to just burst out in fits of impulsive rambling that often leads to some kind of semi-structured debate. It kind of gives you whiplash, in a funny, slightly perplexing way.
The whole friend group likes to meet up at Starbucks while Mark is on his shift, and now that they’ve come to know you as that girl Mark didn’t teach a single thing in College Algebra to but still somehow got lucky with (something you’ve wasted immense efforts into correcting but have ultimately failed to do so), you now find yourself sitting with them, all somehow waiting for who appears to be the nucleus of this group to stop taking coffee orders and hang up his (cute, but you’re the only one that thinks so, actually) green apron.
Again, you don’t mind it; new people aren’t an issue to you, and you’re also interested in finding out more about Mark through those closest to him. You get to see the few ways they’re alike in contrast to the staggering number of things that make them amusingly different from one another. Despite the broad spectrum of their intersecting interests, you’ve come to learn, through the conversations you’ve had to sit through over the last month, that they have varying opinions on said interests. For instance, you know they’re all into video games, Japanese manga, and long-winding fantasy movies, but every conversation takes flight the moment there’s even a spark of dissent from one person — and the source, usually (and quite unfortunately), is Lee Donghyuck himself.
Today is no exception.
“Dude, you’re crazy,” Zhong Chenle practically seethes. Whether by sheer coincidence or actual desire, he’s the one who most often finds himself staring Donghyuck down, trying to bend the latter’s will into admitting defeat. Donghyuck, on the other hand, has mastered the art of looking supremely unperturbed, especially when Chenle is in the heat of his rage. “The ninth was the worst, hands down.”
“Art and rendering were so solid.” Donghyuck raises a finger, and you’re not sure if it’s to start off a list or to shut Chenle up. You don’t want to ask, anyway, too busy finding amusement in the shifting expressions of despair, rage, anguish, and murderous intent on the latter’s face to speak up. You presume that’s why everyone else isn’t stopping them — or maybe they’re just preparing their own defenses and points to raise. “Intuitive combat and flawless combo chains. The fucking open world? Which other installment in the franchise offers that much depth in the gameplay?”
“Depth? Do you even hear yourself right now?” Chenle grips his head so tightly that when he pulls his hands away, there are actual red marks across his forehead and temple, and his bangs are askew. “What kind of depth comes from cloned movesets? The character designs are so stupidly traditional too. And—”
“There’s a unique kind of beauty in familiarity.”
“The open world was a disaster,” Chenle plows on. “It was so empty, and the map was the farthest thing from intuitive. It’s quite literally the worst thing KOEI has ever done. That’s exactly why they went back to the limited map strategy in later installments. Even the spin-offs.”
“I thought the grappling and ambush systems were pretty intuitive. Ingenious, even.”
It’s a singularly amusing sight — Chenle is one insult to his pride away from imploding, and Donghyuck is just checking the dirt under his nails like he’s waiting in line to take his school ID photo. Park Jisung, one of the quieter ones in the bunch, tries to diffuse the tension by clearing his throat and going ‘I actually really liked the Age Of Calamity Zelda one they released with all the different campaigns,’ but that just goes unnoticed by either party.
“You once failed an ambush play just because you were stuck behind a wall you couldn’t scale. Don’t say shit about the ambush and grappling mechanics.”
“Unlike some people sitting around this table, I learn from my mistakes. That’s also probably why some people — not naming names — just can’t appreciate the artistic beauty that is Dynasty Warriors 9.”
Donghyuck doesn’t even look up from his cuticles when Chenle explodes.
“You’re fucking impossible!”
“Can you guys relax?” Lee Jeno, who had somehow miraculously found the space and silence in the breaths between the entire argument to doze off, opens one eye, only slightly irate. “You’re making a scene over a dead game franchise.”
“It’s not dead; they’re on hiatus,” both Chenle and Donghyuck chime in together, apparently finding a moment of unique solidarity to shoot Jeno down before going back to glaring daggers at each other. Jeno shrugs, gives everyone else at the table an I tried kind of exasperated expression, and settles back into his seat, the one eye already closing before he’s fully folded his arms across his chest.
Your eyes wander away from the group over to the counter. You’re thankful for the fact that most of the time, you just get invited to share a table with them without necessarily being trapped in the middle of a conversation — especially one as heated as the one Chenle is prolonging while jabbing his finger accusingly at Donghyuck, as if he’s trying to pin a crime on the latter instead of just explaining why Donghyuck’s opinion is ‘borne of ignorance.’ When they’re all caught up in their business like this, you end up being able to revel in your more or less unobstructed view of Mark behind the barista’s station, where he’s busy piping an extra helping of whipped cream on top of a strawberry frappuccino for a kid that’s already jumping up and down next to the pick-up station.
The biting winter had already given way to the first signs of spring, and the Starbucks Mark works at has a supremely effective central heating system that allows people to shed their coats. This works in your favor, considering Mark wears nothing but a button-up shirt over his apron while he works, and he’s got this habit of rolling up his sleeves so they don’t catch any stains. You’re pretty sure he has a second motive, though; surely, he’s aware of how the view of his arms, muscles tightening under his skin whenever he even lightly grips something, drives you crazy. You’d bet a month’s allowance he’s doing it on purpose so that you start entertaining the thought of yelling at everyone in the branch to fuck off so you can grab him by the front of his stupid shirt so you can kiss his stupid face. Or ride it.
And for some inexplicable reason, he still has the audacity to act like there’s nothing amiss. When he looks up at you right after pushing the frappuccino towards the little girl, his eyes still brighten, almost innocent in their gaze, the corners of his lips turning up surreptitiously, hiding the smile he seems to save for only you from everyone else in the room.
You smile back, but when he turns away to take someone’s order, you let out a heavy sigh and take a long sip of your vanilla sweet cream cold brew until you start reaching the last dregs of it under the ice. Your brain pretty much cries out in protest, but you know it deserves as much as a mental cold shower for entertaining the thought of asking him to bend you over the counter at five-thirty in the afternoon in a Starbucks.
Stupid Mark. Stupid brain. Stupid fucking people in the room.
The warm breath in your ear alerts you to a slowly approaching presence, but you don’t have the reflexes to turn back to its source before it starts talking.
“Got anything to add to either of our cases, ___________?”
“What?” Your palm comes up to rub your ear as Donghyuck pulls away, laughing lightly. You’re sucked back into the foreground of the conversation, but you’re just as lost now as you had been before you started tuning them out in favor of your lust. “Uh — no. Sorry. To be honest, I know nothing about… sorry, what were you guys talking about again?”
“See, that’s how normal people act,” Jeno grumbles, both his eyes flying open this time. “Instead of hosting a presidential debate about Dynasty Warriors.”
“Not that there’s anything wrong with that.” You’re quick to add, and Jeno looks mildly amused at your attempt to still mollify the rest of the group. “I’m sure I would have liked it. If, you know, I actually had been introduced to it at any point in my life.”
“And if you had, I’m sure you’d have the taste to assert alongside me that the seventh installment was revolutionary,” Chenle sniffs, but he’s looking more pointedly at Donghyuck, who’s still ignoring him, save for the fact that he’s now looking at you instead of at his nails (which doesn’t feel like such a great upgrade).
“Nah, she’d be on my side. ___________ looks like she’d appreciate a good, scenic open world and grappling system. Right?”
“Uh…” you say smartly.
“Man, shut up.” Chenle throws his hands in the air before he stands up, his chair scraping against the floor as he pushes it back with astounding force. “Got me so pissed off I need to pee now.”
You have no idea what the correlation is between getting annoyed and needing to use the bathroom, but even if you wanted to bring up your doubts — which you don’t — Chenle is long gone before you can get your thoughts together. It’s only when he’s out of earshot that Donghyuck leans in, almost conspiratorially, to whisper to you again.
“Actually, I think the ninth sucks too. But isn’t it kind of funny how worked up that fucker gets?”
“To be honest, I’ve never known anyone with quite your talent in riling people up,” you admit, and even though you’re not sure what kind of meaning you want attached to that, you notice that he decides to take it as a compliment all on his own, his chest puffing out in pride. “Too bad I have no idea which opinion is really right, or I’d weigh in, too.”
“Not a Dynasty Warriors kind of girl, then?”
“No one is, Hyuck,” Jeno snorts, shaking his head. “You two are the only people I know who still played that past the fifth installment.”
“Fair. I nurture a love for old franchises.” Donghyuck leans back, looking supremely satisfied at how he’s managed to tick off one of his most important ‘to-do’ points of the day. “So what’s your poison, ___________?”
“What’s that mean?”
“You a Gardenscapes kind of girl? Tekken? Maybe you like some good ol’ fashioned LoL?”
“I honestly don’t have the hand-eye coordination to play,” you confess. “I know Mark likes to play PUBG from time to time. I mostly just sit and ask questions, though. The few times I tried playing with him, I swear any normal person would’ve cried. He had to babysit me like crazy. It was a miracle he didn’t throw me out.”
“She even tries to play with him,” Donghyuck whistles lowly. “Dude, how’d Mark get a chick like you?”
“Meaning?”
“You’re way too good for that dope.” His laugh is light and good-natured. “Never thought a moony-eyed weirdo like him would actually wind up with his dream girl — which he’s called you, more than once, by the way. Fucking disgusting, but… I get it. Doesn’t make it less crazy or weird to hear, though.”
“Sorry to put you through that.” You smile, using your straw to stir the contents of your cup. A warmth spreads through your shoulders and down your arms to the tips of your fingers as you digest what Donghyuck’s just said to you, and you find your eyes trailing back to Mark, who’s pulling off his apron. His eyes are already fixed on you, and when you lock gazes, he mouths a wait for me that makes you want to squeeze the life out of something in pure joy. You settle for a soft sigh. “I guess it won’t help if I say your friend over there’s my dream guy.”
“It absolutely will not,” Donghyuck groans, faking a gagging noise that has you laughing. “But tell you what — if you ever get tired of Mark playing PUBG and ignoring you like the clown he is, I’ll find you someone else more your speed.”
“No thanks,” you snort, taking the last sip of your drink. “More than that, I’d just want to be some kind of helpful to him if I ever play with him again.”
“We can help you with that too,” Jisung volunteers. “Jeno taught me the basics. I’m sure he can teach you too.”
“Yeah, and I’m guessing you’d be a better student than mister “how come you didn’t tell me I had to focus the crosshairs myself” over here,” Jeno chuckles, surreptitiously pointing at Jisung when you cast him a questioning look.
“I’m pretty good at sneak attacks myself.” Donghyuck makes a show of pretending to slice your neck before grinning smugly. “We’ll take care of you. Mark won’t know what hit him next time.”
“What’s happening to me next time?”
You feel Mark before you see him, his hand landing on your head lightly and smoothing your hair back in an idle, gentle motion to announce his presence. You look up at him, already beaming, and he returns the favor as his hand settles on your shoulder.
“We were just talking about replacing you. Both as a friend and as a boyfriend, for your poor little dream girl here who’s just too nice to turn you down.” Donghyuck lies like it’s second nature; you wonder if that’s a Finance major thing or just a him thing.
“And you’re offering that to someone who didn’t ask for it?” Mark snorts, nudging Chenle’s bag over so he can sit in the empty spot.
“She’s so caught up in your sticky little web that she can’t struggle against you.” Donghyuck feigns a heavy sigh that suggests he feels sorry for you before he puts a hand on your free shoulder, shaking his head in a convincing kind of pity. “I’ll save you, so don’t worry. Mark can’t keep his grubby hands on you forever. Whenever you need to be saved, I’ll come a-running to free you.”
There’s a tightness on one shoulder that disrupts the balance of your torso, and you find yourself leaning closer to Mark. Your hand finds its way to his knee, giving it a light squeeze under the table, and his grip loosens by a fraction. Donghyuck’s as quick to let go as he is to hang on.
“We were just talking about PUBG,” you correct, and Mark’s eyes snap to you. “I was asking for help — you know, so I won’t drag you down the next time I join in?”
“I don’t mind whatever you do in-game.” He’s quick to comfort you, even if you don’t actually need it, but it feels warm and cold “I’m just glad you wanna try it with me.”
“No, but I kind of want to learn too. So it can be fun for both of us. Also so you don’t have to keep avenging me after five minutes,” you laugh. Mark cracks a smile then, and you don’t realize his expression had been slightly harder until it softens under your gaze.
“Then I’ll teach you next time.”
“No, I want to surprise you with how cool I get. And then next time, I’ll even beat you.” You turn to Donghyuck, slightly unsure. “Uh… I can beat him, can’t I?”
“If you play different teams, yeah,” he confirms. “Trust me. I’ll help you kick his ass.”
“Or we’ll both kick yours,” Mark chuckles, his grasp now tightening and loosening intermittently. He’s massaging your shoulder lightly, and you end up sinking deeper into his side. You don’t miss the slightly nauseated amusement that passes across Donghyuck’s face nor the way he mouths ‘sap’ to Mark, who ignores this comment in its entirety.
“Yo, hotpot at seven? Renjun’s asking,” Chenle announces as he returns to your table, his phone in one hand and a crumpled paper towel in the other. “Jaemin can’t make it, though. Study group or whatever shit he always says.”
“I’m down,” Donghyuck immediately replies, and Chenle’s eyes shoot heavenward, like he’s already asking for the divine strength to not sock Donghyuck in the face later.
“Can’t,” Jeno yawns, both his arms outstretched as he tries to move the sleep out of his spine. “Pre-test tomorrow.”
“Dude, it’s a pre-test,” Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “You don’t have to study if they’re just testing how much you know before studying.”
“Gotta study all the same.”
“I gotta pass too,” Jisung looks actually apologetic. “I promised my mom I’d help her move some stuff to my aunt’s place tonight.”
“Boring,” Chenle grumbles before turning to the both of you. “Lovebirds?”
“Rain check,” Mark shakes his head. “Family dinner. My brother’s home for the weekend. How about Monday instead? Most of us can’t make it anyway. At least Jaemin doesn’t have study group either.”
“If that’s even what that weirdo’s doing,” Chenle sighs, already punching in a message to send to Renjun. “Fine; I’ll ask about Monday. You guys better actually reply to the goddamn group chat. I can’t coordinate in six different private chats ever again.”
“You can put my name down already,” Mark casts you a sideway glance, and you nod immediately. “Two names, actually.”
“I’m good on Monday too. When we see each other again, I’ll bring some prospects for you to sift through,” Donghyuck adds to you, and you laugh. “Cool guys. Jocks. I know this upperclassman all the girls say is really hot. I think I still have his Messenger from when we did a group discussion last semester.”
“I’ll have Mark look at them so he can reject them all for me,” you promise. Donghyuck feigns affront before looking at Mark in utter disbelief.
“How the fuck did you snag a girl like this, man?”
“I’m pretty sure she once told me I… what did you say?” Mark glances at you amusedly. “I had some moves, I guess.”
“You mean stutter and blush in her presence?” Donghyuck can’t decide how to look at you without being even the slightest bit offensive; he just settles on incredulity. “And that won you over?”
“Most powerful move in the Mark Lee playbook,” you shrug, grinning. “Had me from the first ‘um,’ and he’s had me ever since.”
“You lucky son of a bitch,” Donghyuck snorts, and neither of you misses the slightly abashed but unmistakable smugness in Mark’s face when you lean in to rest your head on his shoulder.
The second time it happens is on that Monday, in a far more noticeable capacity. You just aren’t quick enough to read the signs, as usual.
But in your defense (again), it hadn’t felt all that significant.
“Fuck, this is spicy,” Na Jaemin sucks air in through his teeth and lets it out in a sharp whistle that’s broken by a laugh that’s not necessarily at anything funny. Maybe he’s just laughing at the sheen of sweat across his forehead that he has to wipe off with the other side of his napkin.
Miraculously, the hotpot plan pushes through, with no small amount of effort in coordination on Chenle’s part; he’d even texted you just to make sure he’d gotten the head count right, despite the fact that Mark had already confirmed your attendance twice over. Even the often elusive Na Jaemin, who always seems to have one or another study group to attend on most nights, manages to come and is currently busy mixing his peanut sauce in his little bowl with such vigor that you can’t help but wonder if he’s not trying to drown the mala-flavored strips of meat in it completely.
“That’s why I said you need a bowl of water for dipping, you dimwit,” Donghyuck points his chopsticks at Jaemin’s messy plate in a way you can only describe as nagging, even if that’s actually impossible. “You’ve got super mala breath now.”
“Don’t know about me, but I can smell yours all the way from over here,” Jaemin quips back with an easy kind of nonchalance, hastily ducking the balled-up napkin that goes flying across the table. It lands on the floor behind his chair harmlessly.
It’s nice, you think, that Mark’s friends like to invite you to their outings now; despite all the jokes they’ve made at his expense, they’ve been consistently open to having you around. You’re not necessarily the type of couple that acts in a way that disgusts people into moving to a completely different table anyway, and you allow their conversations to unfold easily without ever interrupting, so you think that this arrangement works for all parties involved.
They’re even louder outside Starbucks, you’ve come to note; the restaurant is significantly busier than the cafe anyway, filled with people on their company dinners, so Mark’s friends all seem to want to rival that boisterous energy. Weirdly, you like it, even when they’re already half off their seats and one (Chenle) is just about to strangle the other (Donghyuck). The laughter flows freely, and there’s a messiness to the whole affair that makes it impossible to feel uncomfortable.
Even Mark pipes in occasionally, offering his opinion on topics he knows much more about than you, and you can’t help but admire how everyone listens to him when he starts to speak, even if he has nothing realistically important to say. His friends might find it odd that you’d been so drawn to him, but they just don’t know that even they’re victims of Mark’s natural magnetism, also falling quiet and eager to hear his voice, his light-hearted laugh, in response to the things they say.
But even when he’s mostly distracted by conversation, there’s a part of him that continuously pays attention to you in his own way. He nudges his ginger and soy sauce bowl towards you with the side of his wrist so you can dip your beef in, even if you’d adamantly declined him giving you your own bowl of it in the first place (you’d always thought you were peanut sauce or nothing kind of girl, but one sneaky venture into Mark’s sauce proved you wrong). His hand hovers over your head when you drop your chopsticks and bend over to pick them up from where they’ve rolled under the table, making sure you’re bump-free when you resurface.
And his palms always, always settle somewhere on you, no matter what he’s doing. If one hand is busy feeding himself, the other is intent on warming your thigh, passing over the denim in slow, steady strokes. His fingers tickle your knee when you laugh, just to make you laugh a little harder — you’d even almost kneed the table at one point, much to Huang Renjun’s alarm. But the most common place for his arm is around you, fingers lightly bunched into the side of your shirt, like he’s worried loosening his grip on you further will cause you to vanish. It keeps him close to you, keeps his scent and warmth washing over you in gentle waves, so much so that you often have to remind yourself that he’ll be the target of much light-hearted mockery if you so much as lean into him and rest your head on his shoulder.
But it’s hard to resist it, especially when his hand seems to be intent on outlining every curve on that side, passing over your hip and dipping into your waist. The motion allows him to slowly but surely lift the fabric of your shirt, up until there’s just enough of an opening for his palm to slip under, and suddenly it’s much warmer on that side, with the light roughness of his hand grazing at your skin. His fingers always stretch apart, like he’s trying to feel as much of you as he can, and the pads of his digits have a tendency to graze the plane of your stomach — his nails sometimes even travel featherlight just next to your navel, etching out words you can’t really decipher. Like he’s writing a message just for you.
It makes you feel like no matter what he’s doing, a part of his mind is always on you.
“You guys want to see that new horror movie? The Ghost Within, I think it’s called,” Jisung asks the group from over at the other end of the table, having to raise his voice significantly to make sure it isn’t swept away by the raucous laughter from across the restaurant. “I think it’s coming out in a week or two.”
“I’d be okay with it,” Renjun shrugs, although he doesn’t look enthused. “Kind of looks like a cliche horror with all those cheap jump scares and shit, but I’m down if you all are.”
A wave of assent passes over the group in general, but you notice Mark doesn’t immediately respond. You take this opportunity to lean in and confess your stance.
“If I have to sit around and watch a ghost pop out at me from a big-ass movie screen, you may never again see me in the same wonderful light you do today,” you warn. “Remember me as I am, not as I will be, Mark Lee.”
He snorts, coughing lightly as a mixture of ginger and fishcake sticks in his throat. “Yeah — we’ll pass, I think.”
“Scaredy-cat,” Donghyuck teases, and you’re surprised that Mark doesn’t come to his own defense. There’s something romantic in him not wanting to be the one to sell you out, but you suppose there’s also a kind of chivalry in being the one to take the bullet.
“Actually, I’m the one who can’t handle it well,” you smile in apology. “Sorry. I don’t have much of a reputation, so to speak, but what elegance may be attached to my name, however misplaced, is something I really want to maintain. At least until I graduate.”
“In short, you don’t want Mark to see you scream and cry,” Chenle deduces. You can’t even find fault in him figuring it out so quickly.
“Bingo.”
“Well, we can solve the problem,” Donghyuck claps his hands, getting everyone’s attention for no good reason. “__________, you sit beside me, and Mark can sit on the far end of the row. With how dark it is, he won’t see anything, and I get to sit next to a cute girl in a movie theater. Win-win.”
“Thanks for the offer,” you laugh, shaking your head. “But it’s not a win-win if I accidentally grab your hand out of instinct.”
“It is to me,” Donghyuck winks, and you feel Mark’s hand stop brushing over your stomach. His fingers curl in lightly, almost like he’s trying to make a fist but can’t quite get to that point out of personal restraint. “Or better yet, you could do what we all think you should do and dump Mark for someone you won’t be ashamed to cry in front of. I, for one, would not even bother to comment on whatever emotions you’re going through in the middle of a movie, so what do you say? It’s a pretty sweet deal, in my humble opinion. Me versus Mark Lee. The showdown of the century, right here in Hai Di Lao.”
You’ve noticed that the more Donghyuck piles onto his little teasing rampage, the more forcefully Mark tugs you over; his fingers aren’t just skimming over your skin but have now grown into the habit of gently pinching it, as if begging for your attention. It feels nice but also a little urgent, although it’s hard for you to understand why; the whole foundation of this group is built on teasing each other until someone (Chenle) snaps and lobs a bottle cap at someone else (Donghyuck), so it should be normal for Mark to be at the receiving end of some light banter.
“Should we ask the hostess to referee the match, then?” You ride along with the joke.
“No way. You’re the one calling the shots.” Donghyuck sits up a little straighter, putting on a smug face. “Okay, pick, __________. Me or Mark; who’s got the better punches?”
You make a show of acting thoughtful, even tapping your chin to pretend considering it deeply, but there was never any doubt on your choice. Still, you can’t really decipher the sudden slowness, the light tremble in Mark’s palm as it travels to your hip, where it settles, heavy, over the curve.
“It’s a complete knock-out,” you finally announce, grinning. “Championship belt goes to Mark.”
“Man, if I had a girlfriend as straight-shooting about her feelings for me as you are about your feelings for Mark, I’d propose in a day, max,” Jeno groans, half-exasperated and half-amused all at once.
“Man must’ve saved a nation or something in his past life,” Donghyuck grimaces. “No way he deserves a girl this hot and crazy about him. Hey — got any tips on stopping natural disasters or something? I could use a sexy, loyal girlfriend in my next life. Or maybe I’ll just poach yours in this one and see what it feels like.”
“I would actually deck you, so don’t even try it,” Mark snorts, his arm now winding full around your waist. You’re flush against his side, and he uses this opportunity to do something he doesn’t often do in front of his friends: show explicit affection by pressing a light kiss just behind your ear. It tickles, his breath grazing your earlobe, and you giggle, squirming in his hold. All he does is smile and pull you in tighter.
The bill’s split eight ways, but Mark’s fishing out cash to pay for your share even before you can get your wallet out from the bottom of your bag; it’s one of those quick, instinctive moves he likes to use on you, where he pushes the money and sends the bill back to the staff before you can even protest in full, so you have to settle on thanking him by returning the earlier favor — landing a peck on his cheek, which flushes a warm and contented pink the moment your lips make contact.
You just pointedly ignore the snickers that run around the table, particularly from Donghyuck and Jaemin.
The group splits ways at the front of the school dorms; most of them head in after their goodbyes, while Chenle backtracks towards his apartment building off-campus, mumbling something about how he hopes his roommate’s in because he accidentally left his key in the bowl next to their doorway. Mark should be piling in with the rest into the dorms, but he has a habit of insisting that he take you to the subway station; you’ve long since given up on convincing him against tagging along, mostly because he looks slightly hurt whenever you try to get him to stay put. You’re not going to complain anyway; for as much as you like being around Mark’s friends, it’s even better when you have this little slice of alone time despite the hassle it brings him.
Your fingers are linked when you walk under the street lights, the campus road leading to the station entrance significantly less busy at this time of evening; it’s cool enough for you to have an excuse to press yourself into Mark’s form, and he accepts this additional burden with an immense amount of grace, his arm finding its way around you again. Two minutes later, his palm is pressed against your bare skin once more, rubbing small, gentle circles just above your pelvis.
A part of you wonders if you’ll be able to do this — lean in, flush against him — when the summer heat starts to stick, but rather than really worrying about the logistics, you realize you’re more hung up on the idea of spending this summer with him.
“Sorry,” Mark murmurs out of the blue. Your eyebrows shoot up, and he looks down at you sheepishly. “Isn’t hanging out with my friends kind of driving you crazy?”
You hum in thought before shaking your head in resolution. “Not really. Not in a bad way, at least. I like how close you guys all are — and how big the group is. It’s usually just Yeji and Jisu with me, and they’re definitely not as rowdy. The change of pace is pretty fun.”
“Yeji and Jisu,” he echoes. “Your best friends. I haven’t met them yet, have I?”
“Not yet. Jisu started a part-time job across town, so we can’t get our schedules to align right just yet.” Your hip collides gently with his. “Should I let you, though?”
“One day… I think it would be nice to hang out with a less migraine-inducing crowd for a change.”
“I’ll tell them, then. They want to meet you.” You crane your neck up slightly, lowering your voice into a hushed whisper that’s completely unnecessary. “They want to know if you’re as cute as you look in your pictures.”
Mark draws back, laughing incredulously. “How do they know what my pictures look like?”
“I stalked your Instagram and showed them,” you answer simply. He throws you a funny look that’s equal parts disbelief and amusement. “They liked that one with the Spider-man costume.”
“Please don’t,” he groans, passing a hand over his face. “I should have taken that down, but I didn’t think anyone would care.”
“Why? I like it.” Your hand’s the one that manages to slip under his sweater this time, fingers trailing down his stomach; you feel him suck it in for a second in surprise before he lets out an exhale.
“I can’t ever understand what’s going through your head,” he chuckles, and you think it’s unfair that he manages to extract your hand from under the fabric while his is still firmly pressed against the side of your stomach. “You saw that and still wanted to date me?”
“Mark Lee, you simply underestimate how much I adore you. It’s kind of hurting my feelings at this rate.”
You’re just a few inches shy of the circle of light cast by the subway station sign. Your feet try to bring you forward, but Mark lingers behind, just outside the curve of soft white on the pavement, and his hand slips from under your shirt. You turn, and his hand skims down your arm instead, fingers locking around your wrist. With the slight distance between you, it looks like you’re caught in motion.
“I still can’t wrap my head around it sometimes.”
“What?”
“I just look over at you and feel like it’s not real. Like you’re going to disappear, and I’m just going to wake up from a dream and see you the next day, just some other stranger who doesn’t even know my name.” He licks his lips, and you want to reach out and kiss him already, but you know he isn’t done talking. “And I’m going to remember how much I liked you in that dream, but you won’t ever feel that same way.”
“You know I’m right here, though, don’t you?” Your fingers mimic his, squeezing around his wrist. “You can feel me. I’m here with you.”
Hesitation flashes across his face even when he nods, and you notice his eyes flit down to his shoes before looking back up at you — a habit of avoidance you know he’s trying to correct. “Sometimes I have to wonder if they’re right.”
“If… who’s right?”
“Them.” He jerks his thumb back in the general direction of the school dorms. “The guys. You know — when they ask me how I got a girl like you… the truth is, I don’t even really know. They can’t believe it, and it’s so crazy to me that I still sometimes can’t myself. So I start wondering if—”
You don’t let him finish this time; it’s rude to interrupt, you know, but you also know that what he’s about to say is probably something neither of you wants to hear anyway. Your lips connect with his, firm and demanding, and his words die in his throat, melting into a soft groan that vibrates against your skin. When you pull away, you don’t create the same distance, and Mark’s hands find their way to your waist, slightly trembling.
“They’re wrong,” you murmur, a quiet strength in your voice. “So stop wondering and just be with me.”
A smile starts tugging on the corners of his mouth, and the next moment, he’s nodding in assent, in wholehearted agreement, and the next kiss you share is one he starts, far more gentle than earlier.
“Next time I catch you entertaining nonsensical thoughts, there’ll be consequences.”
“Are you threatening me?” His laugh is colored with incredulity.
“Yes.” Your tone is firm, but your grin gives away too much of the jest. “Maybe I’ll ground you for a week, or something really childish.”
“I’d take it if you were with me.”
“That’s not how it works,” you snort, gently flicking the tip of his nose. He scrunches it on impact. “You’d be in solitary. You must reflect on your actions and all that nonsense. Meanwhile, I’ll be out having some good hotpot with everyone else.”
“If that happens, promise me one thing, then.” He maneuvers your stance until you’re both back in the blanket of darkness, just out of reach of the subway entrance. “Don’t sit next to Donghyuck.”
“And let him and Chenle give me an earful about how bad-slash-good the first Human Centipede movie was all over again? I think not.”
“No, really.” Mark buries his face into your neck, and you hear the quiet inhale as he breathes in your scent. On instinct, your hand comes up to thread through his hair, nails gently scratching at his scalp. “I don’t want you sitting there and hearing him talk your ear off about how much I don’t deserve you or that he’ll help you find someone better.”
“You know he’s just joking — and I’m just joking, right?”
“Just promise me.”
You pause, wondering if it’s in your best interest to tease him for whatever act he’s pulling, but there’s a shortness to his breathing that makes the whole situation feel weirdly tense. He’s really waiting for something — an answer. The right answer, maybe.
“I promise,” you finally say, and you know you’ve said the correct thing when Mark’s lips press a soft kiss to your collarbone, like he’s sealing in your vow.
On the third time, Mark pretty much gives up.
The strangest thing is that it starts at a time when you’re not even actually together; if you had to pinpoint the exact moment, it probably had to be when Donghyuck had walked you to the dorm from library. No — maybe even before that. Somewhere in the time you’d spent in there, he’d thought up yet another way to push Mark’s buttons. You just didn’t really know the exact minute he’d first seen you with Jung Jaehyun.
You don’t know how Jaehyun does it; he skips half his classes and somehow doesn’t even get in trouble, let alone fail. You’d only met him last semester, but he was just about the only person who was halfway familiar in your Anthropology 120 class, so you thought you could at least feel comfortable enough to chat with him about the weather or what had happened in the last meeting. You don’t expect him to strong-arm you into being something of a literal proxy for him; the first week of the semester, you’d spend almost each lecture period gnawing on your nails and fretting over the fact that your signature for attendance looked nothing like his. By the second week, you’d already come to realize that it doesn’t matter because he had only attended one lecture — the first one — thus far and your professor was as clueless about Jaehyun’s handwriting as you. By the fourth week, you had resigned yourself to being his slightly unwilling associate for his random escapades, allowing him to copy off your notes and turning in his homework for him.
Now that you think about it, that’s probably how he does it.
You sacrifice your free time for him today, caged up in a library for pretty much the afternoon. You can’t help but resent him, not just because the whole room is stuffy and the librarian keeps passing by, clucking to remind people not to litter between shelves, but also because you’d much rather do things that are important to you — like pretending to flirt with Mark for the first time when you place your order and watching him act like it’s the first time you’re saying something so sweet to him, except he’s definitely not pretending. Instead of watching Mark’s face color that cute shade of pink and that sweet little smile pull at his mouth until he’s basically biting his lips back to stop himself from grinning, you have to bore yourself with the sight of Jaehyun trying to decipher your handwriting.
“You should really be more legible with your strokes.” He has the audacity to chastise you as if he’s the one doing you a favor by giving you constructive criticism.
“You should really come to class more often,” you bite back, although there’s no real heat to your words. You just look out the window and watch the sun sink down behind the university hospital building, wondering if there’s a chance you’ll still be able to catch Mark before his shift ends.
“Would if I could.”
“You actually fucking can,” you say tiredly, and even the way he turns the page is so impossibly slow. “Can’t you just take a picture?”
“Nah; writing it down carefully really helps my retention of this kind of stuff.”
“So take a picture and then write it down carefully.”
“With your ridiculous handwriting? I’d probably fail.”
“So come to class and write it yourself!”
Your hiss increases in pitch, and it calls the attention of the librarian over to you. She swoops in, clicking her tongue, but she’s not even looking at you. Her eyes are zoned in on Jaehyun, who meets her gaze with so much innocence it’s hard to imagine you’d wanted to smack him two minutes ago.
“Jung Jaehyun,” the librarian snaps in an undertone. The slow, punctuated way she says his name suggests she knows him fairly well — and not in a great way. “I see you’re back in here after your probationary period.”
“Sorry for the trouble, Mrs. Park.” He grins up at her, looking anything but apologetic. “I promise I won’t get in your way again today.”
“And this one—” She points to you, and you point to yourself in shock at being pointed to, and Jaehyun’s pointing at you and mouthing ‘this one’ with excessive mirth in his eyes. “Isn’t another one of those girls you plan on defiling my sacred space with?”
Jaehyun says ‘we didn’t defile anything’ at the same time you say I’m going to throw up, and the librarian just adds to the noise by shushing you on top of that jumble of words.
“I’ll be keeping a close eye on you two,” Mrs. Park warns before stalking away, tutting at a library assistant for wrongly shelving a volume of Encyclopedia Brittanica.
“Please, Jaehyun,” you groan, crossing your arms over the table and flattening your forehead against them. “Just hurry up. Release me.”
He ignores you, still leaning closer to your notebook to decipher your handwriting. “I would like to set the record straight and make it known I didn’t fuck anyone in the library.”
“What’d you get probation for, then?”
“Just making out.” You notice he has the energy to grin wickedly even without meeting your eye, even while he’s still scrawling on his own notebook, and you groan something incoherent and irate once again. “What are you in such a big hurry for, anyway?”
“Has it ever occurred to you,” you grumble, raising your head. “That some people might want to do better things than sit here and watch you write stuff for ages?”
“No,” comes his simple reply. You bop your head onto your arms a few times in the hope that the impact will shake you out of this nightmare and you’d find yourself waking up in Mark’s arms instead, but you have no such luck. “By better things, do you mean fucking Mark Lee in someone else’s bedroom? That’s real defilement, by the way.”
“How’d you hear about that?” You squeeze your eyes shut and growl under your breath. “Fucking Youngho.”
“You doing that too?”
“Shut — please, would you hurry?”
He pointedly purses his lips in an effort to keep himself from letting out what you can only assume is, by the glint in his eyes, a witch’s cackle. “Almost done, man. Relax a bit. So did you guys get together — like, together together?”
You initially contemplate not telling him, but Jaehyun’s nosiness is probably going to reveal the truth to him sooner or later anyway. “Yeah. What’s it to you, though?”
“Nothing. You’re lucky.”
For the first time today, you feel like Jaehyun has finally said something right. “Yeah — yeah, I am.”
“I bet his friends don’t seem to think so.”
“Is this something you know because it’s a guy thing or because you’re so nosy that you just can’t help but listen in on every other juicy conversation around you?”
“A bit of both,” he chuckles. “Mostly just because I know Lee Donghyuck was giving him a hard time about it last semester.”
“I noticed that too — a bit, anyway. But it’s just banter, I think.”
“Probably. Imagine being his friend and getting a girlfriend; it’s like… the perfect ammunition for teasing. But I’m pretty sure half of the things that come out of his mouth are jokes meant to annoy.”
“What about yours?”
“I get it,” he sighs, shutting your notebook resolutely. It makes a thud that alerts the librarian two tables away, and she glares at you like you’re climbing onto Jaehyun’s lap in the middle of the References on the Korean War aisle. “I’ll set you free. Thanks, by the way, for letting me copy from you. Same time next week?”
“Or how about you look up the schedules for our classes and actually come instead of piggybacking off of my efforts and making snarky remarks about my handwriting while you’re taking advantage of my goodwill?”
“Sounds like too much effort on my end,” he yawns, waving you off as you stuff your notebook into your bag. “Later, ___________. Say hi to Mark for me. The normal way — not the girlfriend way, please.”
You stick your tongue out at him before you make a mad dash for the door, ignoring Mrs. Park as she shushes your footsteps on the marble. You’re so intent on fishing your phone out of your bag that you almost ram the door into the person standing behind it.
“Oh, fuck— Jesus, I’m sorry, I wa— wait, Donghyuck?”
“Great to see you too, ___________.” He rubs his jaw where the edge of the door grazed it. “You in a rush?”
“I was just about to go see if Mark was still at Starbucks.”
“His shift’s probably almost over. I’m headed back to the dorm if you wanna tag along.” When you nod, he starts leading the way, breaking the silence again soon after. “Were you in a study group, or something?”
“No,” you jerk your thumb backwards towards the minuscule form of Jaehyun, who’s now busy wasting time and space playing something on his phone where you’d left him. Donghyuck’s eyebrows shoot up. “He’s my classmate who never comes to class. I was just lending him my notes.”
“Oh, Jaehyun, yeah.” Donghyuck snaps his fingers. “We were classmates last semester. He never went to class either, but I don’t know who he mooched off of to pass. You guys close?”
“Not really. I just fell into the trap of being too nice to him.”
“It’s funny,” he hums, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Jaehyun seems more your speed. On paper, at least.”
You can’t help but look taken aback, and Donghyuck laughs at your expression. “What do you mean, my speed?”
“Not sure.” He pauses, trying to find the right words to explain himself. “Someone who’d fit more into your social circles. Someone who probably likes Formula One and considers men’s health magazines to be classic literature.”
“That’s your impression of my social circle?”
“You know what I mean. People like Jung Jaehyun or Seo Youngho. I literally thought you were dating him last semester, so it was totally crazy to hear you asked Mark out.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Like… you asked him out. Not even the other way around. That’s ridiculous.”
“Why?” You know he doesn’t mean anything bad by it; Donghyuck has next to no filter, and something about him being unable to process your relationship is honestly a little funny. “A girl can’t ask a guy out?”
(You try not to think too hard about the fact that up until you’d cornered him in Youngho’s room, you had been praying to whatever god could hear you to convince Mark Lee to do the romanticist thing and ask you out.)
“Nah, dude. Like… a girl like you asked a guy like him out.”
“I didn’t ask him out because he was a guy like that,” you say pointedly. “I asked him out because he was a guy I liked. I wouldn’t have asked anyone else out if it weren’t him.”
Donghyuck falls quiet for a while, and only the crunching of the leaves underfoot accompanies your walk. “You really like him that much, huh?”
“I’m crazy about him.” His nose scrunches up like he’s been hit with a horrible smell, and you laugh. “Can you stop giving him a hard time? Or tone it down? I know you probably don’t like it—”
Donghyuck’s chuckle is light and easy. “I’m not teasing him because I hate it; let’s be clear on that. I actually really like that you guys are together. I’ve never seen him this happy with anything or anyone.”
“Then why are you—”
“Because he’s Mark.” A devilish grin creeps up his features as he holds the door to the dorm lobby open for you. “And teasing him is my favorite thing to do.”
You shake your head; you can’t help your amusement, but you’re not sure you fully understand this kind of friendship. You suppose if Mark is okay with it in its totality, then there isn’t much you can say to change it either.
The next twenty minutes pass in comfortable back-and-forths; Donghyuck is, as you already have learned, an expert conversationalist, and while he doesn’t aggravate you the way he does Chenle, he does manage to navigate a quick-fire kind of exchange of thoughts and information that allows you to see the speed at which he thinks. There’s barely any lag between when he digests what you say and when he responds. You suppose there’s a measure of wit in that, but it’s also a little bemusing to see someone speak without at least running it through the conscience checker every once in a while. You decide you’ve never met anyone quite like Lee Donghyuck before.
He’s in the middle of asking you what the Anthropology professor is like because he’s planning on taking it as an elective if he can when you notice a familiar figure pushing into the lobby, backpack swinging on a folded elbow.
“Mark!” The brief confusion on his face morphs into a surprised joy when he spots you on the couch, even though a bit of it lingers upon recognizing that Donghyuck is seated next to you. He walks over in long strides, and your posture straightens to meet his palm as it comes down gently against the crown of your head again; it bumps lightly, causing the both of you to laugh.
“Hey, you.” His voice is warm and fond in its greeting, and you beam up at him. “Did you have a busy afternoon?”
“Unfortunately. Did you just get back from your shift?”
“I passed by the co-op to check out the new university letter jackets. Design’s pretty dope.” He nods towards the elevator. “You wanna head up for a little bit?” You almost get to respond before your companion cuts in instead.
“Hey. Can’t you see we’re having a riveting conversation over here?” Donghyuck sniffs, making a show of hitting Mark’s shin lightly with the heel of his shoe. “Have some respect.”
“Is the conversation so riveting that I can’t take my girl for the evening at all?”
You mouth out a no, but Donghyuck’s flair for dramatics has him humphing and shoving Mark’s hand away from your hair. “Yeah, man. At least let us finish up.”
“What’s this even about?”
“How Jung Jaehyun asked her out in the library today,” Donghyuck replies easily. You start, shaking your head immediately, but Mark’s jaw slackens a little upon hearing this. Donghyuck continues loudly over your protests, and you can’t keep your voice straight because you’re adamant and yet, somehow, still laughing incredulously in your shock. “Oh, dude, let me tell you. He had his arm around her like this — and he was giving her the bedroom eyes… I wouldn’t have blamed her if she folded, honestly.”
“Mark, no,” your stupid gasp comes out as half a giggle as a result of Donghyuck trying to reenact his imaginary scenario. He’s slung his arm across your shoulders and pulled himself in, doing his best expression of a pleading dog’s gaze, which is both perplexing and hilarious. “He’s just kidding—”
“Then he got all close like this—” Donghyuck presses his forehead against yours, and the view he allows himself blocks him from having to look at Mark. You, on the other hand, are still trying to resist a misunderstanding, your palms up and every part of your body that can move shaking vehemently, but you can see Mark’s face turn a violent shade of red you can’t remember having seen from him before. “Spoke all low — you remember he had that sexy, husky voice, right? ”
“He’s just messing with you,” you wheeze out, trying to extract yourself from Donghyuck’s hold, but he only tightens his arm around your neck, almost to the point where you can’t inhale properly.
“And he said ‘you’re the hottest chick I’ve ever seen—’ then you know what he did, Markie?”
Mark doesn’t respond; you’re not even sure if he can, considering his Adam’s apple is bobbing dangerously like he’s one misstep away from exploding. You laugh again, stupidly, because you don’t know what else to do; you know Donghyuck’s teasing him, and you know Mark usually takes it in stride, but you’ve also never seen the latter look so focused on anything that didn’t involve a math problem or eating you out. “No, really, nothing hap—”
You don’t even have the space to finish your sentence. Donghyuck’s too quick when he grabs your face and plants a comedically sloppy kiss on your cheek, bursting out in laughter when he pulls away. You can only sit there, probably as stunned as Mark looks, raising your hand slowly to wipe the spittle Donghyuck left behind in his wake.
“Oh, Jesus,” Donghyuck rasps out between snorts. “Your face is priceless, man.”
“Not funny,” Mark grumbles, and there’s a hoarseness to his voice that makes you feel like it’s barely controlled.
“Also not true. I just bumped into her on the way from the library. We were talking about one of her classes or whatever.” Donghyuck dramatically wipes the tears from his eyes, and you sigh, nudging him. “Sorry, sorry. I couldn’t resist. Man, don’t even worry. She’s downright crazy about you. Even if Jung Jaehyun had asked her out—”
“Anyway.” Mark reaches down, lacing your fingers together, pulling you up and closer to his side like he’s worried you’ll catch Donghyuck’s crazy. “If that’s all of it…”
“Yeah, yeah. You two lovebirds go moon over each other already. I just love seeing your face like that.”
Mark snorts, yanking on Donghyuck’s earlobe punitively, and the latter cries out sharply (and a little exaggeratedly) at the pain. Mark doesn’t even seem to care; he leads you to the elevator and punches in his floor. You barely have time to call out a belated ‘bye’ to Donghyuck, who acknowledges it with a raise of his palm, before the doors slide shut.
It’s a slow elevator, given that it’s an old building, and the first couple of floors pass without much noise between the two of you. You’re not unaware of how tight Mark’s grip is on your hand, but you don’t comment nor take it against him. By the fourth floor, you’re raising his hand up to your lips and pressing a kiss against his knuckles.
“Nothing happened.” You confirm his unasked question, and you see a modicum of tension leave his shoulders. “He was just messing with you because he thinks it’s funny.”
“Yeah, I know.” Even if he says it like that, there’s still lingering doubt in his voice. “Were you with Jung Jaehyun today, though? Is that why you didn’t show up?”
You nod. “He was copying my notes for Anthropology. Guy barely shows up to lectures, so he borrows my stuff. I can’t believe he hasn’t been suspended yet. Or punched in the face by the people he leeches off of.”
“No kidding.”
You step out on the sixth floor with him. Even if you already know where Mark’s dorm is, you let him lead the way, and he ushers you into an empty and dimly lit living space while taking his shoes off. His roommate barely seems to be around; you’ve seen him all of two times, and it doesn’t look like he’s here either right now. You pause anyway, listening to any signs of life just to be sure, but when you both confirm that there’s no one but the two of you, you busy yourselves with turning on the lights and plugging in the water dispenser.
You work in relative silence; it isn’t anything unusual since you’ve done this a million times, and you’ve come to learn that small talk isn’t necessary when you’re just washing your hands or opening the refrigerator aimlessly even if you know you both plan on ordering in. But there’s a weird aura around Mark that you’re not sure how to place; he doesn’t seem like he’s mad, but there definitely seems to be something off — a problem, at least, that you’re not sure you know how to ask about.
So you just try to diffuse whatever it is by completely ignoring it.
“Pizza or Chinese?” You ask, flopping onto the couch as he plugs the television into the outlet. He looks up at you, and you notice his eyes are slightly dazed, like you’ve just woken him up from a dream. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” His voice is hoarse the first time he says it, so he clears his throat and tries again. “Yeah, sorry.”
“What’s on your mind?”
“We just had pizza, so I’m thinking Chinese is the better option. Cream shrimp? Fried rice? Not the salted fish one, though, maybe.”
You hum in assent, but when he straightens up from behind the television, you extend your arm to him, attempting to clarify yourself. “I mean, what are you thinking so hard about?”
“Nothing.” His answer’s a little too quick. A moment of awkward silence passes where you telepathically tell him you know he’s lying and he has to come to terms with his horrible lying skills, and he sighs, crossing over to the couch and settling beside you. Immediately, he tangles your fingers together, belatedly returning the favor from the elevator and brushing his lips across your knuckles. “He didn’t ask you out, right?”
You know he knows the truth, so you decide to bat your own question back at him in an attempt at rhetoric. “What would it matter if he did? The answer would have been the same, real or imagined.”
Mark pinches the bridge of his nose, inhaling slowly. There’s a red flush on his neck that’s only started fading, it seems. You reach out and skim your finger along the vein that runs down the side of his throat. “I know. I don’t like it all the same. I hate… even thinking about it, actually.”
“Really — nothing happened. If you don’t count the fact that I almost strangled him for keeping me there — which I’m sure you’d agree doesn’t count as anything in favor of him.”
“I heard Jung Jaehyun’s kind of a playboy.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“Nothing. I don’t know.” His head lolls to the side, and his eyes hold a sadness that pulls at your heart. “It means he really could have made a pass at you. Or you could have — I don’t know. In the end… I just worry.”
“Don’t you trust me?” Your lower lip juts out, and his eyes widen slightly, his head shaking before his mouth can even work out a proper response.
“No — I mean, yes, absolutely. It’s — I mean, it’s just—” He inhales again to gather his wits, two fingers still rubbing his forehead. “I trust you, without a doubt. I don’t trust other people — not around you. Not Jaehyun, or Youngho, or—”
“Or Donghyuck?” You smile a little apologetically at his embarrassment, clear on his face when his eyes stray from yours. “Mark, you know he’s only messing with you, right? I thought it was a funny thing for you guys.”
“It’s not funny if it’s about you,” he mumbles, more to himself than to you. He looks up at you again, chewing on his bottom lip. “I know. I’m trying to control it. Sometimes… I don’t know why it gets under my skin. I guess it’s because it could happen — you… finding someone else. I kind of hate the thought of that.”
“And if I said I hate it even more than you?”
His gaze softens, something like relief passing over his features, but the rest of his body still holds a significant amount of tension; you know by the way he’s running agitated circles on the back of your hand. You gently tug on his arm, allowing yourself to use it as an anchor to shift your weight. Mark makes a soft noise of inquiry but says nothing more, waiting until you’ve maneuvered your body to settle on his lap.
The view is reminiscent, and you can see that the core memory you share flashes through his mind too. A small smile, still somewhat reluctant, plays on Mark’s lips, and you hate that it’s all you get right now, so you rectify this by leaning down and leaving a small, chaste kiss on them. You pull away much too soon, and his head follows in response to the distance, chasing your lips until you’re realistically too far to reach. His arm extends instead, swiftly tucking your hair behind your ear.
Your fingers close around his wrist, and your head turns, continuing the kiss against his palm — short and firm.
“Stop doing that.”
His eyebrows fly upward in questioning, his other hand freezing in its trail up your thighs. Even his breath seems to catch, and what’s left of it comes out as a raspy whisper. “Stop being jealous? I’m… I’m trying.”
You shake your head. “Stop being sexy when you’re jealous.”
The ‘what’ he seems to want to ask dies in his throat, his mouth only able to form half of the word before you interrupt, your lips taking in the rest of the syllable. When you kiss him this time, there’s a slow hunger to it; your teeth find his lower lip even before he’s able to get into the rhythm of kissing you back. You just want him to know — everything about him drives you wild, even when he doesn’t know it.
You’ll never grow sick of the taste of him, you’re sure; today, he tastes even more enticing, the hint of something rich mixing in with the stronger flavor of coffee on his tongue. It’s familiar and comforting, and it’s only when you break away, both your faces flushed from a prolonged lack of air, that you puzzle out what the taste is — the lingering aftermath of a vanilla sweet cream cold brew, one he must have prepared in anticipation of you this afternoon.
You briefly squeeze your eyes shut and thank whoever’s listening for the gift of Mark Lee.
“Mark,” your murmur, your voice much softer, intent on coaxing him into releasing his worries. “You know, right?”
His ‘hm’ is only half-there in focus, the rest of his attention on his hands, which have found their way to your ass and have started digging his fingers into the flesh beyond your jeans. You have to tilt his head up with one finger under his chin, and there’s a whirlpool of emotion in them: curiosity, desire, and, interestingly, a quiet, almost suppressed kind of anger.
“If it isn’t you,” you whisper. “Then there’s nobody else.”
You see his jaw tighten, feel his grip against you do the same, and his brow furrows, like he’s trying — much too hard, and for no good reason — to stop himself from tipping over. You don’t like that either; if he’s there, you think, you should take him over the edge.
“But if you want them to know so badly, then…” You tilt your head to the side, exposing more of your neck, bringing the expanse just a little closer to his mouth. “Why don’t you go ahead and put your claim on me?”
You swear you see his pupils dilate right before he presses his mouth to your skin. With a low, almost pained groan against your neck, he latches his teeth in lightly, and you feel the soft sting, the increase in pressure the moment he starts sucking a mark just above your collarbone. There’s a wet, messy pattern to his movements, always punctuated by the sweep of his tongue to soothe your flesh. Even with that, his movements are slow and careful, still gentle in the way he’s handling you, but you feel it anyway — all of his tension’s concentrated in his grip, the way he keeps you close, hips pinned against him as if he’s worried anything less will cause you to disappear.
“Every time you worry, remember you can do this.” You pause, your breath catching in a lilt as his teeth dig in a little more fiercely. “You’re the only one that can.”
His lips detach with a soft groan, fingers squeezing your ass tight for a moment. Warm breath cools against the damp patch on your neck, and a second later, you feel his mouth graze against the few inches of skin, sensitive and slightly raw. “I know. It’s just not fair.”
You hum in questioning, but he doesn’t answer immediately; his mouth busies itself just under the mark he’d surely left, already starting up the same routine. You’d let him, and you want him to, but you want to hear his voice more. Your fingers tangle into his hair, and you use that hold to ease his head back, urging him to look up at you. It’s almost a mistake, seeing him like that — lips slightly swollen and definitely slick with his own saliva, parted just a little to reveal teeth he’d been desperate to nip your flesh with again. It crosses your mind that Mark has a mouth made for kissing — no, that isn’t accurate.
A mouth made for you to kiss.
“What’s not fair?” You ask softly. Even now, he takes his time in answering, his eyes falling close for a second; you watch him swallow, lick his lips, breathe in before he speaks, and all of those mundane things he does somehow make you lose your mind all the more.
“How badly I keep wanting you,” he breathes out, his eyes slowly opening. “And how it makes me think everyone wants you just as much.”
His hands leave the curve of your ass, traveling up your shirt, resting against your sides. He holds you like he’s careful in trying not to break you, his fingers spread wide to make sure his thumbs almost meet against your stomach, but there’s a smoldering headiness in his gaze that tells you he’s thinking a little too hard about wanting to break you.
“I touch you like this, and I think that everyone would kill to do the same.” His fingers squeeze against your flesh, inching upwards until they rest just under your breasts; his thumbs stroke the curved underline of your bra. “I think about kissing you and it feels like everyone’s thinking it at the exact same time. I look at someone next to you, even if you don’t know them, and I wonder if they want to pull you close, if they want to feel you against them just as much as I do. When I—”
He inhales sharply between his words, and the exhale comes out somewhat shaky. For a moment, he grits his teeth, jaw flexing in an attempt to keep himself in check. You worry he doesn’t want to continue — doesn’t want to let you hear it, but it feels so important that you can’t let it go. “Tell me.”
“When I think about fucking you,” he breathes out, voice barely audible. “Whenever I look at you and think about how much I want to feel you around me, feel you cum around me… I just know everyone else wants the same thing, and it’s driving me crazy because… because they can’t.”
It’s there again, flashing in his eyes — a determination that reads almost like fury.
“They can’t,” he repeats, his voice firmer. “I won’t ever let them. Never.”
You don’t stop him this time when his mouth reclaims your skin. You let his thoughts fuel the need in his movements, allow yourself to move only in reaction to what he does — the tilting of your head to give him more room, the tightening of your fists against his shirt to keep yourself steady. A surprised mewl leaves you when you feel his teeth pinch against your flesh again, and it’s harder, sharper this time, his quiet anger finally dictating his strength. You grapple for words, but they come out in weak gasps.
“It doesn’t — doesn’t matter,” you manage to whimper out. “How many people think that way, how much they want me that way. I only ever want you.”
His breathing is caught, warm, in the pocket of space just between you and his mouth; it tingles against your skin, tickles your senses into heightening. Your fingers unfurl, pressing against his chest, and you can feel his quickened heartbeat thrumming under your palm.
“God, please,” he murmurs, the soft peck of a kiss landing against your collarbone. “Please, tell me.”
“Mark, I’m yours.” There’s no teasing in how you say it; it was never meant to rile him up. It even escapes sweetness, the romanticism it usually comes with when you remind him on any other occasion. This is a promise to him, something you’re reinforcing as fact, something that can’t ever change. “I’m always going to be yours — no one else’s. I’ll never let anyone have anything that’s yours. Ask anything, take everything you want. I’ll never say no to you. Only you — always you.”
You know something’s different in a number of ways; his arms circle around you, but instead of keeping you firm and stable in his lap, they’re tight, squeezing a whine out of you, holding your torso flush against his. His face never leaves the crook of your neck, but you hear — feel — something there — a soft growl of need, of frustration that begs release. Suddenly, you find yourself off the couch; you barely have the presence of mind to wrap your arms around his neck and tighten your thighs against his sides before he’s carrying you to his room, kicking the door open and letting the rebound of the impact against his wall slam it shut behind him.
You’ve been in Mark’s room before, so there’s absolutely no need for you to take in the scenery when he sets you down on his bed. It doesn’t matter anyway, even if this were your first time; Mark’s crawling over you, his face flush and eyes sharp with hunger, and he looks so enticing that you wouldn’t want to pay attention to anything else around you anyway. His limbs cage you in, arms on either side of your shoulders and his knees just by your thighs, and you don’t really know why he’s already panting, but it just makes you want him all the more.
“Never,” he groans out, leaning down to nose against the patch of skin his mouth had worked on. “I’m never going to let anyone take you, ever. You’re all mine.”
His name fades on your lips, carried away by a moan when his mouth reattaches itself to your neck; it moves, almost frenzied, to renew the mark he’d left, make it a deeper red, a slightly bruised purple. You’re usually careful not to do anything that will require any attention or cover-up after, but Mark seems a little too far gone to care, and you realize you like him best this way.
Even with all the attention he gives your neck, his fingers are busy; they work on the button of your jeans, sliding them down with the help you offer by raising your hips. They only reach halfway down your thighs, his reluctance to come back up for air stopping him from peeling them off completely, but it’s all he seems to need for now.
Eager fingers ease between your thighs, two at once, pressing against your folds. You’re unable to spread your legs like you usually do, but this tightness makes you all the more sensitive, and you keen as his digits fit themselves into your slit. Frustratingly, they don’t move right away, and you have to raise your hips again just to get some sort of friction. Even then, Mark doesn’t take the hint — or, perhaps, the bait — keeping a light pressure against your clit without doing anything else. His focus is still on your neck, now slightly aching under his lips, and when he finally pulls away, you see a look of triumph on his face. He tilts his head back slightly to admire his work — the blooming dark patch you’re sure he’s left where your skin tingles the most.
“If I said I wanted to mark you all over, would you let me?”
“What makes you think I wouldn’t ask for it?”
He chuckles, tightening the pressure of his fingers against your clit; you say something that sounds halfway between ‘Mark’ and a sob.
“I want to, so badly.” He admits, gaze still fixed on your neck. “I’d want to see you walk out of here, walk into class covered in them. I’d want people to ask you how you got them, and who gave them to you. And I’d want you to say it proudly — that it was me who did it. That I fucked you all night and made you mine over and over again.”
“Why don’t you?” His eyes snap up to you, a small smile forming on his lips. “I want to say that too. Let me brag about having you. Let me tell everyone how good you always make me feel. Then you can tell everyone who doesn’t believe you, too — how I let you take me every single time. Show me off and tell them to look at how you made me yours.”
Another laugh escapes him, but there’s more disbelief than humor in it; he seems to find it amazing, that you can just agree with what he says, no matter how strange he thinks it is.
“Show you off? If I mark you in other places, do I have to show them every part?”
“Do you not want to?”
“I want to, and I don’t.” He pauses, slightly amused, and you know he’s remembering the first time you fucked. “I don’t them to see your body, but I want them to see what I did to it. I don’t want them to look at what’s mine, but I just want them to know it is.”
“Then you can fuck me in front of everyone and make them watch you ruin me completely.”
He shakes his head, even if desire flashes clear across his features. He busies himself with actions while he mulls it over, tugging your jeans down alongside your panties and casting them aside before he straightens up. His eyes rake over your form; you’re bare from the waist down, your shirt halfway ridden up, the underside of your bra peeking out from under the hem. Again, his eyes land on your neck, and his smile widens slightly.
“Can’t.” He decides finally. “You’re too pretty for that.”
You hum thoughtfully, and he raises his eyebrows. He doesn’t move, even when you sit up, shifting yourself so you can tuck your calves under your thighs — not even when you reach out to undo his belt or tug down his zipper. He only reacts a little when your hand presses against his hardness through his boxers, the girth now easily familiar to your palm.
“What about something like this?” You ask, inching closer to the edge of the bed. You’ve started slow strokes against him, the fabric creating extra friction, more heat under your palm, and you watch his jaw clench as he swallows back a soft grunt. “Would you let them watch me do this for you?”
“Let me think about it,” he chuckles softly, and you nod, letting your fingers work to make your point. You don’t have to undress him completely to get what you want; all you need is to tug down the front of his boxers to free him, and you already have him wrapped in your palms, stroking his shaft to full hardness.
“Think faster,” you urge, and he shakes his head, slightly bemused. “Are you telling me you wouldn’t even want them to watch me jerk you off?”
“At least give me a full minute.”
You laugh lightly, whispering a ‘fine’ before you press a soft kiss against tip. He inhales sharp through his teeth, already sensitive, and you waste no time in letting your tongue flick out against the smooth head. He doesn’t need the lubrication, realistically; his precum’s already leaking from the tip, mixing in with your saliva as you run your tongue around it. All you do is make him a little messier, a little slicker, your spittle running down his length.
Taking Mark in your mouth is a demanding task, but one you’re always up for; there’s something uniquely satisfying about letting him fill your mouth, inch by inch, and watching his breathing hitch and stutter until your lips are closer to the base than to the head. What you can’t reach, your hand always squeezes around, eager to make sure he feels good completely. His expression is sublime when you draw your head back the first time, sucking as you do so — his eyes are half-lidded, and he doesn’t stop the moan that falls from his lips. His gaze is fixed on you, hazy but still able to drink the sight of you in, and you’re not sure how, but you almost feel like you could get off to watching him watch you taste him.
You try, somehow, vaguely conscious of the movement of your hips; you’re grinding at nothing at first, so your knees give way just enough for you to press yourself against his sheets. It’s slightly uncomfortable, a strain in your thighs that you’re not really used to, but you don’t care; Mark’s sharp inhale at seeing you attempt to grind your pussy against his mattress is pretty much as arousing as anything else. His cock twitches hard in your mouth, and you suck just a little harder, a little messier, your head bobbing down to meet your hand, still firmly wrapped around his girth.
The room’s filled with nothing but slick sounds and soft groans; Mark’s hand has found its way into your hair, tangled into a makeshift ponytail, and while he isn’t guiding your mouth to do anything, you can feel his hips stutter then start to move, pulling back when your head does. He tries to hide it, tries to keep himself steady, but pride blooms in your chest when you note that he can’t; he wants to feel like he’s fucking into your mouth, into your hand, the way he does when he takes your pussy.
It’s relatively quiet for that time, nothing but muffled moans from you that mix in with his noises, but you only realize you’d been waiting for an answer to something when he speaks up again.
“It’s… still a no for me.”
Your movements slow, your gaze lifting to communicate your mild confusion to him. You don’t want to ask; you just don’t want to lose the taste of him on your tongue just yet. He looks down at you, smiling with overflowing tenderness, almost like he’s apologetic.
“Even just this — you’re too pretty when you do it.” His hand reaches down, thumb stroking over your cheek. “I can’t let anyone see what you look like when you’re like this. They’ll keep thinking about you doing it for them. And you’d only do it for me — right?”
You nod immediately, your response causing your mouth to slip down his shaft just a little more. It elicits a guttural noise from him, one that fuels you into sucking him just a little harder, your enthusiasm overtaking your restraint. His fingers have let go of your hair, stroking it back into smoothness, almost comforting in their movements.
“God, I wish you could see yourself; you’d know what I mean,” he continues to murmur, his voice just a little louder over the eager, wet noises you’re making. “How pretty you look with your mouth wrapped around me. How perfect you are when you’re kneeling like this for me — how happy you look when you’re sucking me off. I can’t share that with anyone. Fuck — not ever.”
Your mouth draws back, completely this time, and your tongue presses against the underside of his cock. You lick a long stripe up his shaft, moaning softly at the light throb you feel, and you watch him tip his head back. The groan that follows soon after is almost close to a frustrated growl, ending in a whispered ‘shit’ before his eyes land back on you. He watches you press kiss after kiss against his tip, coaxing the precum out even more, and you take special care to leave more down each inch of his cock until you’re finally able to release your hold on his base so you can leave the last one there.
His hand combs your hair back before it falls to cup your chin, his thumb swiping at the corner of your mouth to gently clean up the froth of spittle there. You smile up at him in thanks, and his thumb sweeps over the seam of your lips to follow the slight curve.
“So pretty,” he repeats, and your cheeks glow pink under the palms that caress them. He leans down, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. “Pretty as hell, fucking perfect — and you’re all mine.”
You kneel up again, chasing his lips with your own, and he locks you in his arms as his tongue slips its way past your teeth, the aroma of coffee still on it. He leaves today’s taste of him against your tongue, on the ridges of your teeth, until you feel like you’ve all but consumed him, and you whimper softly when he pulls away, urging you to turn around and lean back into his chest.
His mouth reattaches itself to the same spot; it’s like a home base for him, and he breathes in your scent from there before giving the same patch of skin a light suck, almost as if he’s worried it’ll fade in a few minutes’ time if he doesn’t give it attention.
“Show me.” Hands slide down to your hips, squeezing them lightly, like a prompt for your response. “Show me how pretty you are for me.”
His palms never leave you, not even when you detach yourself from his chest and bend down; your elbows meet the mattress, but your hips stay raised, giving him a view of your pussy. Your gasp easily turns into a moan when his digit dips into your wetness again, his other hand pushing gently at your asscheek to keep you open.
You think he’s about to slip his finger in, the tip brushing against your entrance, and you tense in anticipation, but it doesn’t happen; he continues to run his finger down your slit, careful not to linger against your clit for too long. The result is that you tighten around nothing, and you hear him suck in a breath as he watches your hole grow smaller for a second. You laugh breathily, resting your chin against the backs of your hands, one folded atop the other. “Pretty enough for you to fuck?”
“Do you have to ask if you already know?”
“I want to hear it anyway.”
His finger slips into your hole, finally, and you keen softly as he breaches the first ring of tightness. He doesn’t really move it, just tests your tightness, feels you contract around him as if to know what his cock will feel in a few moments.
“Your pussy’s too pretty not to fuck,” he manages out, and his throat sounds as tight as you feel. “Seeing it like this… makes me think there’s no way anyone can resist. It’s exactly why I can’t let anyone see you like this.”
You hum as his finger presses in deeper, and you know it’s nothing in comparison to the real thing, but you like feeling that mild stretch, the depth it reaches all the same. “How should we let them know, then? That I’m all yours.”
His finger stills, and you hum softly, swaying your hips to shake him out of whatever trance he’s in. He’s grown quiet, but there’s a thoughtfulness in this pause, like he’s seriously considering your question. You laugh lightly, ready to tell him you’re just egging him on until he fucks you, but he slips his finger out of you, leaving you clenching around nothing again. You can’t help the confused noise that comes out of you, but you at least know he isn’t completely backing away, his other hand still firmly on your ass.
“Mark, what—”
You get your answer in the thud that interrupts your question — he’s tossed his phone onto the bed, having it land next to you. Something in your blood runs hot, and your fingers tremble when you pick it up. You see yourself reflected in the blackened screen — excitement in your eyes, your lips glossy from your blowjob.
Mark’s silent as you let the meaning of his actions settle; wordlessly, he slips his finger into you again, followed by another one this time, and you shudder in pleasure at the difference in the stretch. He doesn’t ask, but you can tell he’s wondering if he’s gone too far— if you think he’s crazy. He lets his fingers stay anchored in you, unmoving, waiting for you to say something, but from where he is, he just can’t know the smile that passes your face.
Finally, he tries to speak up. “We don’t have to— I just meant—”
“What’s your passcode?”
He breathes out, the exhale quivering as much as you probably are. “Your birthday.”
Your smile only widens when you tap the screen to life and see a picture of you — you don’t even remember when he’d taken it, but it’s a shot of you sprawled on his bed, bundled in his blanket and reading something that looks oddly like your textbook for your European Renaissance History class. It’s grainy and dimly lit, a stolen photograph of you, but it makes your heart swell, and you laugh lightly as you key in your birthday; the screen unlocks, allowing you access to all his applications.
“What’s funny?”
“Just thinking about how you should replace this wallpaper.”
“To what?” He sounds bemused.
“The view of me you have now.”
His fingers curl in you, pressing down against your walls, and you push your hips back in a bid for more friction; you hear him hiss out a ‘fuck’ under his breath, and his hand digs harder into the flesh of your ass.
You open Mark’s contacts, scrolling down aimlessly. Most of the names, you don’t recognize, but you see a few familiar ones crop up here and there. He doesn’t ask, only starts pumping his fingers into you in quiet anticipation, wondering how far you’re willing to take it, how much you’ve bought into this crazy idea.
“Mark,” you call out, and he hums in response. “You trust me, don’t you?”
“With my life.”
“So if I called Donghyuck right now—” His fingers hook into you, the delicious pressure on your walls making you squeak instead of finish your sentence immediately. You twist your torso to meet his eyes, and you’re slightly surprised but not at all displeased to see something crazed lingering in his gaze. “How much of a show would you want to put on for him?”
He shifts his weight, his knee sinking into the mattress as he slots it between your legs. This change in position allows him to angle his fingers a little differently, driving down into you with a force that makes you squirm. You almost forget you’ve asked him something again until he leans in closer, his murmur almost drowned out by the slick sounds of his finger pressing into your hole.
“Just… enough for him to know you’ve always been mine.”
Your thumbs are shaking when you scroll through his contacts again, up and down until you find the right name — Lee Donghyuck — and Mark watches you intently, wordlessly, as you press his number, start the call, and put it on speaker.
The wait feels like an eternity, with Mark’s finger slipping in and out of you in a steady, languid pace as you watch the line connect, but in reality, Donghyuck really only answers after the fourth ring. “Yo, Mark.”
His voice is casual, lacking in any sort of expectation; you can hear explosions and gunshots in the background, and you’re willing to bet he’s in the middle of an action movie. You’re proven right when you hear random English babbling soon after.
“Hi, Hyuck.”
“___________?” He sounds genuinely confused that it’s you that greets him. “Where’s Mark? You okay?”
“He’s right here with me; don’t worry.” Your voice is a soft croon, and he has to lower the volume of the television to be able to hear you better. “We’re totally fine. What are you up to?”
“Watching Resident Evil. Uh, is there a reason you called?”
You want to draw out the lie of something casual for as long as you can, but Mark doesn’t let you. His fingers push, suddenly forceful, into you, and you let out a soft cry into the receiver. You look back at him, eyes wide with amusement, and he shrugs, having at least enough sense to look slightly abashed at his experiment.
One moment, you’re listening to a female voice shout something, and the next, Donghyuck’s side of the call is silent except for his breathing. When you don’t bother explaining what had just happened, he takes matters into his own hands.
“Hello?”
He sounds equal parts affronted and amused, like the shock of it has tickled him. You can’t help it; you laugh too, but it’s quickly cut off by another whine when Mark pulls his fingers out. Donghyuck makes an incredulous noise.
“Now, what the fuck is all this about, you freaks?”
“You kept wondering why I ended up asking Mark out,” you evade his question with another one. “Should I tell you why, if you’re that curious?”
“No way. Have fun, weirdos,” he laughs, and the line goes dead a second after.
You snort out a laugh, and Mark mumbles something that sounds vaguely like that was crazy before he leans down and presses a kiss to the small of your back. You make to turn so you can finally face him, but you’re distracted when his phone screen lights up again, and Donghyuck’s name flashes across it.
You exchange amused glances before you pick up the call, and you don’t even get a ‘hello’ out when his voice rings out, sharp and clear.
“But pretending I am,” he says, as though he hadn’t hung up the call a few seconds ago. “Exactly what kind of answer would I get?”
“The kind that’ll hopefully shut you up for good,” Mark pipes in instead of you.
“What’s that even going to sound like?” Already, Donghyuck’s activated whatever toggle in him that gets him to push Mark’s buttons. This time, though, you can’t say it works against you; you feel Mark inch closer to you, and a moment later, the fat tip of his cock nudges against your entrance. “I bet you can’t even get her to yawn, man.”
Mark doesn’t have to respond; you do it for him when he pushes in, torturously slow, as if to draw out your moan. It works a little too well, with you keening into the phone, and yet no part of you is acting for his sake. As familiar as the stretch is, it’s not something you’ve ever been able to commit to memory fully, and it feels like a new breaching of your tightness each time. Your legs fold in slightly, a useless movement that attempts to get you adjusted to his size faster, but Mark interprets it as discomfort, his hands tightening on your hips.
“You okay?” He sounds genuinely worried for a second, forgetting that Donghyuck’s still on the line. Your cheek brushes against his sheets as you nod, trying to meet his eye even in this position to let him know you’re being honest.
“Fucking big, Mark.” You hear Donghyuck tsk from his end, and you laugh breathlessly. “You don’t like knowing he’s big?”
“I just hate that fucker,” Donghyuck quips back easily, but there’s no seriousness in his voice. If anything, it sounds a little raspy, with him clearing his throat soon afterward.
“Well, I’m crazy about him,” you whisper into the call, and your breathing hitches as Mark finally bottoms out, groaning at your tightness. “I’m crazy about the way he touches me, the way he tastes. I’m crazy about how big his cock is, how deep it gets when he’s inside me, how he stretches me out — fuck—”
Your verbal rampage is cut short by a loud moan as Mark draws his hips back and pushes forcefully into you; you haven’t fully adjusted, and you’re even tighter now from what you’re saying, so the friction inside you is nothing short of delicious. He starts a pattern of thrusts, not bothering to build up from his usual slow and steady pace — hearing you talk that way and knowing that Donghyuck is listening is enough to get him to abandon self-imposed restrictions.
“Mark,” you whine out, accidentally pushing the phone a little further away as you reach out blindly for him behind you, and he catches your wrist to let you know he’s there. “Mark, fuck, it feels so good—”
You tighten around him as if to prove your words, and he growls in response. You find yourself having to press your cheek in a little harder into the mattress as he gathers your wrists together into one hand, pinning them to your lower back, and it’s with that hold on you that he leverages his thrusts, pumping into you a little harder each time.
You’re not completely unaware of your surroundings, but it takes a while for you to process the sounds coming from the phone’s speaker — labored breathing, the sound of a zipper being pulled down. You want to wonder if this is working a little too well, but nothing comes from your mouth apart from soft whimpers, and it’s all the cue Mark needs to be the one to fill in the relative silence himself.
“You’re so fucking pretty,” he whispers, and you feel his lips press between your shoulder blades. It feels like a chaste kiss at first, but he leaves his breath there, still flitting over your skin as he continues to speak. “I’ll never get tired of how pretty you are — how pretty you always sound for me. Doesn’t she sound pretty, Hyuck?”
“Fucking pretty,” Donghyuck agrees, though his voice sounds somewhat distant. You can only sob back a quiet ‘fuck me, harder, harder,’ in response.
“Can you imagine how much prettier she looks under me?” It’s almost a full-blown conversation now, but even if Mark’s addressing Donghyuck, the rest of his attention’s fully on you. He adjusts his stance, still keeping his hold around your wrists as he angles himself deeper into you, causing you to cry out and squirm in pleasure. With your face pressed against the bed and his weight driving down into you, you feel utterly trapped, in the best kind of way. Mark, in the way he is now, is inescapable, almost incorrigible, and he pistons deeper into your pussy, his free hand brushing your hair away from your shoulder so he can leave a kiss against it. “Bent over, legs spread just a little, all for me to take. Pretty little hole wet for me, and so fucking tight. Can you imagine that?”
“I’m doing it right now.”
“It’s a thousand times better in person. Trust me.”
The same hand slips between your thighs, two fingers spreading your folds apart; the middle one circles your clit in a pace that matches his thrusts, sudden and shocking, and you arch your back upwards slightly with a choked noise. He finally releases your wrists, and you claw at the sheets helplessly to keep yourself somehow upright as the force of Mark’s hips, their impact against the backs of your thighs, pushes you forward, closer to the phone again. The stimulation is merciless, endless, and in the haze of your pleasure, you wonder if you should make Mark a little more jealous everyday if it gets him to act this way.
“Mark, I…. I’ve been— s-since—”
“Not yet,” he whispers, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as if to bring you back to reality. You shudder at the pain, the pleasure that accompanies it, and when you squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, you notice that a few tears escape your eyes. “Hold out for me a bit, okay? Please. It’s not enough. Not yet enough.”
You wonder if ‘enough’ is a concept the both of you even understand when it comes to wanting each other; already, you feel desire pooling in your stomach, threatening to spill from you, and clenching around him isn’t helping you stop it the way your body seems to think it’s supposed to. It also doesn’t help that Mark’s fingers are relentless, one still drawing tight, heavy circles around your clit, and the other creeping up under your shirt to tug down the cup of your bra, letting a breast spill into his warm palm. He kneads with an unusual — but not unpleasant — roughness, and you squeak out incoherently as he tweaks at the hardened bud of your nipple, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger.
“Hold on for me a little,” he continues murmuring, even after you shake your head and whisper ‘can’t’ to him over and over. “Do it for me. Tell Donghyuck — tell him how good it feels. How much you want to keep feeling me inside you.”
You don’t even know what to say; the pleasure that washes over you, the new kind of roughness that Mark exhibits has you drawing a blank, and you can only whine in a last attempt at protest, only for your tongue to start moving on autopilot, fueled by your want.
“It’s not enough,” you echo — and even if it feels like it is, even if it feels even more than you can possibly handle, something tells you that it’s true. “Not enough — need to feel you more, Mark. God, I want to feel you stretch me out, fuck my little hole into the shape of your cock— until no one else can fuck me but you—”
“What,” Donghyuck breathes out, his exhale coming across as static. “The fuck.”
You don’t have to explain; your babbling’s doing most of the work in that regard anyway, and you can tell by the wet, staccato noises on the other end that Donghyuck can easily piece together the scenario anyway. He’s jacking off to the both of you, something in your mind whispers, and the notion of that alone has you tightening around Mark’s cock. The change doesn’t go unnoticed, and his fingers sink deeper into your flesh; you cry out softly when you feel a jolt of pleasure as he gives your clit a sudden pinch.
“How much tighter can you get?” He sounds incredulous but also, interestingly, proud — there’s a smug tinge to his voice that arouses you even more. “Does it feel that good?”
“Fuck, yes,” you breathe out, the syllables quivering in your throat. “So good I’m going to lose my mind. Let me — God, please, let me—”
“Not yet,” Mark mumbles, and you whimper as he slows and slips out of you, his hand gently rubbing your folds in what feels like comfort — a small apology for his overt enthusiasm that you don’t even really need. “Just a little more. I need to see it.”
“See what?” Donghyuck’s voice is barely above a whisper, hoarse and pretty much muffled by the sound of his hand pumping his own shaft. Your head’s light, so your body moves on its own when Mark inches away slightly, giving you room to turn yourself around and lay on your back. You’ve barely even settled when he lifts your hips, dragging you closer to him and easing your thighs apart to slot himself between your legs.
His cock weighs heavy, pressed up against your folds, and he pushes his hips in a superficial thrust to get them to spread. His eyes fall briefly on your swollen clit, the wetness that you left on his shaft, even more of it still leaking from your hole. When he looks back up at you, there’s something triumphant in his gaze.
“Fucking gorgeous,” he coos, so lovingly it’d be hard to imagine his cock still sliding against your folds if you couldn’t feel it yourself. “I’ll never get enough of your perfect pussy — so perfect that it was made to take me.”
“See what?” Donghyuck presses, an impatience now coloring his voice. Mark chuckles, nodding at you and mouthing silently. Tell him.
Your inhale’s shaky, quivering like the rest of your body, and you don’t ever break away from Mark’s gaze, even as you speak.
“His cock fucking me in my stomach.”
Donghyuck’s ‘Jesus fucking Christ’ is drowned out by your cry of need as Mark pushes back into you. There’s no lag time now, no wait for any kind of adjustment; he takes you in one motion, until you feel his hips hit the backs of your thighs again. Your walls flutter around him, unable to process his size fully, and all that comes out of you is a string of messy mewls that’s constantly interrupted by the wet sounds of his thrusts.
Your body feels almost weightless, the only thing you can understand being the feeling of his cock pumping into you, stretching you out further. You’re only able to shake yourself out of the reverie when you feel his hands push back against your thighs, folding you in half, before they crowd atop your stomach.
“God, I need to feel it,” he groans out, his palms skimming under your navel, searching. “Please — do it for me.”
Even with your brain muddled, you don’t even have to try to figure it out; you let him feel it every time he asks. You inhale, deep and slow, until your stomach sinks, and the walls of your stomach flatten against his cock, which pauses briefly in its movements as he revels in the newfound feeling.
“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, and you flush in pleasure, in satisfaction at his praise. “Love seeing my cock inside you.”
He adjusts himself before he starts pumping into you again, burying his shaft all the way to the hilt each time; each thrust is followed by a soft sob from you, and you reach out, planting your hands on top of his. You obviously can’t feel his cock under your palms, but you don’t have to anyway; the fit’s tight enough that it feels, ridiculously, like he’s fucking your whole body, like he’s pressing into the deepest part of your core. You just want him to feel it more — the movement of the bulge under his hands, the resistance it has to push through to get to your stomach.
“Love feeling me inside you,” he continues, and his breathing stutters then, signaling that he’s also barely hanging on. “Love seeing how pretty you look when I rearrange your insides.”
You mouth out a disbelieving ‘what the fuck’ that earns you a simple smile, but Mark’s unrelenting in his movements anyway, his palms completely covering your stomach.
“Dude, I wanna see it too,” Donghyuck reminds you both of his presence when his voice comes through the speaker. “Put her on video.”
“No way,” comes Mark’s swift, firm reply. Donghyuck makes a noise of protest. “This is just for me.”
“Selfish as hell, calling me without really sharing.”
“The point wasn’t really ever to share.”
Mark’s hands suddenly press down on your stomach, and you stifle a soft scream; the pressure increases tenfold, as does the tightness of the fit, his cock brushing against your walls in a way that makes you feel breathless — it makes you feel used. Your hands fly up, fingers locking behind his neck, and you squirm under him, knowing fully well that you can’t escape anyway — not that you really want to, anyway.
“Mark,” you warn him again, your voice thin and airy. “I can’t anymore — I really—”
“I got you,” he murmurs — something you’ve come to learn he always says, always wants to let you know. He’ll be here until you break, until you can’t take anymore. “One second, okay?”
“Bro, what? Are you serious—” Even Donghyuck sounds confused, although his voice is tight too; he must be close, your mind weakly registers, but it doesn’t matter. Mark, albeit reluctantly, slips one hand away from your stomach — for a good cause, he must think, and you learn what it is when he ends the call, effectively cutting off Donghyuck’s complaints. Your eyes widen in confusion, but all Mark’s gaze is to you is reassuring, gentle, and he leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips before he answers your unspoken question.
“Can’t let him hear you cum,” he murmurs against your mouth. “That’s only for me, isn’t it?”
You nod, letting the movement of it brush your lips against his. “You’re the only one I’ll cum for — the only one that can make me.”
Above your head, his phone is trilling noisily; the vibrations course through your back, weak but persistent, and for some reason, it heightens your arousal all the more. Mark ignores it completely, single-mindedly focused on pistoning into you with the bulk of his strength. His hands push down just under your navel, increasing your awareness of the feeling of his cock, him fucking you, coaxing out your climax.
“Do it. Show me how pretty you look when you cum for me.”
You don’t think it’s possible for him to inject any more strength into his movements, but he proves you wrong time and time again; the wind’s knocked out of you as he braces himself and fucks you harder, sharper into the bed, and the only noises you can make are weak whimpers and choked sobs. Your mind’s so overrun with pleasure that your climax hits your body first before your mind fully parses it; your back arches again, and you mewl out something broken, something that sounds like his name as you come undone.
Mark still doesn’t relent, the tremble in your legs somehow only inspiring him to put more power in his thrusts. Even through the dazedness that comes with all the stimulation, you can see the fine details you’ve come to know so well — the tightness in his jaw, the growing flush across his collar, the quick heaving of his chest. He’s close too, so close he’s just holding himself back out of sheer force of will to make sure he can watch you come down from your climax completely. You don’t know why he has to, but you want to see him let go too, and you scramble for words, for more touch — pressing your thighs firm against his sides to keep him close, locked — just to get him there.
“Will you mark me up one last time?” You breathe out. He reacts almost instantaneously, moving to lean down and press his mouth against the still-untouched side of your neck, but your palm on his chest stops him from doing so. Surprise crosses his face, followed by slight confusion. You squeeze your thighs against him, trying to make your point, but even then, his brow furrows. “Mark me — inside.”
His eyes widen, and his hips stutter before they resume pace, his fingers digging into your stomach almost painfully as he tries to keep himself in control. “I— no, you know I can’t…”
“Do you want to?” You egg him on, your hand dropping from his chest to land on top of his again, adding to the pressure until you’re sure he can feel every small movement, every throb of his own cock inside you. “You can, you know — make me yours, from the inside out.”
“God — we can’t; you know we’d be in so much trouble.”
“But I’d let you anyway, if you wanted to. Do you ever think about it, Mark?” Your fingers toy with his, almost like you’re having a casual conversation instead of a situation in which he’s deep inside you, already aching for release. “Fucking your cum deep into me, letting it seep into my stomach — making sure no one else can fill me up?”
“Jesus,” he growls, and he reluctantly slips his hands out from under yours to grip your thighs. Realistically, he has enough strength to peel them away, have you release him, but his hold just tightens, not really making any motion to do so. You see the thought flash in his eyes, serious even just for a moment. He thinks about it all the time.
“Think about it,” you urge, your voice soft but close to a demand. “And every time you do, remember one day, you will — because you’re the only one that can.”
He tilts his head back, letting a growl rip from his throat, and he finally manages to push your thighs apart. You let him, let them fall apart so he can slip out of you. You watch him shift upwards, his knees on either side of your torso, and you’re met with the erotic sight of him fisting his cock in front of you, urging himself into completion. You do the only thing you can think of to help; you open your mouth wide, pushing your tongue out, silently asking for his load.
“Even when you do that, you’re fucking pretty,” he groans out, and his thumb presses his cock down, resting the underside flush against your tongue as he rocks his hips. “How much prettier are you going to look with my cum all over your face?”
He doesn’t have to wait long to find out, and you don’t have to respond; he gets the answer he wants with one last thrust against your tongue, and you close your eyes briefly, allowing yourself to drink in the taste, the smell of his cum as it streaks across your cheeks, all over your lips. You hear his release as it comes too — the soft rumble from his chest, the release of air that gently whistles through his teeth.
When you open your eyes again, Mark is looking down at you, a warm flush creeping up his cheeks and ears again; he’s breathless, panting as he comes down from his high. From the daze of his climax, a slightly sheepish look of apology crosses his face, and he reaches down, seemingly without any real plan, to clean you up, only to withdraw, slightly bemused, when you shake your head.
A laugh escapes him when you shimmy out from under him, straighten up, and extend your arms upward, puckering your lips in slight demand. You think he might reject you, but Mark doesn’t even hesitate longer than a second. He swoops down, capturing your lips in a fierce kiss, and your thighs press together tight as you enjoy the feeling of his tongue swiping away his cum from your bottom lip before he takes it between his teeth, sucking softly as if to clean you completely.
When he pulls away, his head dips into your shoulder; again, his face turns to press against the mark he’d left, and his teeth nip at the soft bruise that’s already begun to blossom. Satisfied by the soft noise you make at the sensitivity you feel from the contact, he breathes out, long and steady, against your skin.
“Just… can’t get enough of you,” he finally exhales, pressing another kiss to your neck; it’s gentler, situated just under your jaw.
“You don’t ever have to think about having enough,” you whisper, leaving a light nuzzle against his shoulder. “Just always think about having more.”
He lets out a breathy laugh, but he nods, accepting your offer anyway. A moment of silence passes, where you’re wrapped up in each other, his weight against you in a blanket of heat, and it stretches to what almost feels like an eternity — if not for the phone suddenly ringing again, Donghyuck’s name coming up on the ID. You both start, and Mark reaches over, fumbling with the sides of his device before he finds and toggles the silent switch.
“Seriously,” he grumbles, watching the call drop just for it to start up again, the screen flashing.
“We kind of left him hanging, to be fair.”
“No fairness.” Mark tosses the phone to the foot of the bed, where it lies, facedown and buzzing. “He got more than he deserved today.”
You watch him as he slips off the bed, rearranging himself before clipping his jeans button back into place. He whispers a gentle ‘be right back’ and exits the room, leaving the door only slightly ajar. You hear the water run in the bathroom, and a few moments later, Mark returns to your side, holding a damp towel.
He leaves a kiss after each light swipe across your face, as if to apologize for the pain he thinks he might be causing; you laugh, partly because it’s ridiculous, but mostly because you like it. He cleans your mouth last, even though there’s already nothing left, just so he has an excuse to leave a long, lasting kiss there.
You think it’s the last you’ll get for now, but he surprises you by bending down even further, hiking your shirt up your torso again. His hand rests on your thigh, keeping himself balanced as he presses a flutter of kisses around your navel, lingering at the exact spot that sits above where he knows his cock hits every time he bottoms out in you.
“One day,” he whispers into your skin before he looks up at you, his eyes shining. “I’ll really make you all mine.”
“Dummy.” Your voice is just as low, and you pull his head up again, enjoying the brush of his hair against your hand, the swoop of his jaw under your palm. “How many times do I have to tell you?”
“Every single day, considering I’ll never get tired of it.”
You hum, not one to deny him of what he asks anyway; you push him back onto his calves, climbing back onto his lap; it’s your favorite way to be near him, you decide, with almost nothing between you, almost everything of yours touching everything of his — like you fit in him perfectly. You rest your cheek against his shoulder, feeling their soft rise and fall as his breathing steadies, and you squirm a bit, if only to make sure his arms are locked securely around you — to make sure he won’t let go. Just like that, in his arms, you say it again — a truth, a fact, and a promise.
“I already am.”
#mark x reader#mark x you#mark smut#mark scenario#mark scenarios#mark imagine#mark imagines#mark drabble#mark drabbles#nct dream x you#nct dream x reader#nct 127 x reader#nct 127 x you#nct x you#nct x reader#nct imagines#nct scenarios#nct imagine#nct scenario#nct drabble#nct drabbles#nct smut#nct dream smut#nct 127 smut#nct dream drabbles#nct dream imagines#nct dream scenarios#nct 127 scenarios#nct 127 drabbles#nct 127 imagines
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A Guide to Faewish Sprite Jobs and Uniforms
EDIT 27/02: Corrections to the Wish Inspection Center segment! I didn't realize Delicious Orb sorters have their own ornament. Also some additional lore here and there.
EDIT 21/03: Based on the "Falling Star" neckwear accessory, the gemstones on the librarians' ornaments are meteorites from the Aurosa Valley.
I went around the Wishing Woods taking note of what colors corresponded to what jobs, as well as the ornaments on their hoods. This is mostly for personal reference so I know where to find specific types of sprites. Due to the nature of this post there are unavoidable spoilers from Chapter 6 and Chapter 7 of the main story.
In general, the uniforms work like this:
higher ranked (i.e. supervisors) or otherwise unique (i.e. shopkeepers, named NPCs) fairies have the long ribbon-like wings, as well as the large ornament on their hood related to their work
generic fairies within a job have the standard tiny wings but in the same color as their uniform and a small version of the corresponding ornament at the end of their hood
fairies also seem to be allowed to add accessories however they like, a few of my screenshots include some who are wearing extra accessories that are not part of their uniform
For simplicity I will be referring to the two types of uniforms as "supervisor" and "standard". I've also tried to be clear about what things here are my assumptions so hopefully I haven't accidentally missed being clear about anything that is.
I will also mention where I feel I am missing information. This post also does not include the unique jobs like Eltinada's or Dorobo's.
Before we start, for comparison, here are what the general, non-uniformed Faewish Sprites looks like:


This is VERY image heavy so I've put the main content under a cut.
Wish Pass Office
Color: black
Ornament: quill feather
Roles: customs, passport issuance

Every interviewer along the Cavern of Wishes uses the supervisor uniform, presumably you have to be highly ranked to be an interviewer.

The standard Wish Pass fairies are only found along the road immediately after you enter the Wishing Woods. Their main role seems to be inspecting goods and taking inventory of items entering the Woods.
During Chigda's rule, they were instructed to reject all applications for a passport, giving them a fairly lax work environment for that time.
Given we can find Aventura in the Wishing Woods after Giroda is elected, Giroda presumably encouraged them to start earnestly reviewing applications again.
Wish Inspection Center
Color: pink
Ornament: pink heart with a white heart outlined in blue inside for the director and other high ranking supervisors, solid pink heart with a broken blue heart on top for bizarre orb supervisor, solid pink heart with a thin orange heart on top for delicious orb supervisor, solid pink heart for everyone else
Roles: handles everything related to all kinds of Wishing Orbs, splits accordingly into departments for Delicious Orbs, Bizarre Orbs, and Desperation Orbs


Note that only Director Boboda and Supervisor Vivibo have the two toned heart ornament.

The above are wish auditors, sorters, and inspectors found in the Wish Inspection Center. They are responsible for ensuring the Wishing Orb pipeline goes smoothly.
They sort wishes by listening to them and identifying the kind of wish from there, which is a natural ability to all Faewish Sprites. However, with the development of an amplifier by the Wishcraft Lab, they can now do this much faster, while also improving their accuracy.
It seems you have to pass a sorting accuracy test to join this office. The record is 99.9% accuracy, held by current Director Boboda who is also the youngest director in history.
Wishing Orb couriers/transporters also use the supervisor uniform (as seen in the cutscene where they take Afubo's doll), but this may more be due to having every important/named Faewish Sprite use the supervisor uniform than not.

As shown here by Afubo (left) and Durida (right), supervisors in charge of Bizarre Orbs and Delicious Orbs respectively get additions to their heart ornaments.
The Desperation Orb Warehouse presumably originally fell under the Wish Inspection Office as well, but was taken over by the Paladins under Chigda's orders. Currently, there are no uniformed supervisors from the Wish Inspection Office on-site.
Due to Wishing Orbs being the Faewish Sprites' primary source of nutrition, the Wish Inspection Center seems to be one of the two largest organizations.
Wish Celebration Center
Color: yellow
Ornament: yellow and orange striped cone hat with confetti ball at the end for supervisors, yellow and white striped cone hat OR a yellow puff ball for everyone else
Roles: coordinating the Coming-of-Age Ceremony, management of confetti cannons, making decorations and gifts, managing and preparing parents for the ceremony



One of the busier areas outside of the Grand Millewish Tree, the Wish Celebration Center is all about the Coming-of-Age Ceremony.
They work with the parents of baby sprites to assist both them and the babies for the ceremony, including helping them choose gifts for their baby and ensuring they have a name and clothes prepared. They provide ready made gifts like balloons and flowers.
They probably work closely with the dye station.
They're also in charge of the confetti cannons we use to launch Momo and Nikki.
Vikda is part of them, but has a unique outfit.
With how important the ceremony is to Faewish Sprite society in general, they are probably the other one of the two largest organizations.
Wishcraft Lab
Color: dark blue
Ornament: light bulb with a four pointed star inside
Roles: all kinds of research, Whimtech development and engineering, equipment maintenance, Wishing Orb study (i.e. studying the properties of Desperation Orbs, developing better methods to handle Bizarre Orbs), Desperation Syndrome study


These guys do a LOT of things and can be found in almost all the other offices as well, usually near equipment. They are in charge of Faewish technology, but also study things related to the mutated vines and Desperation Syndrome.
Many can also be found in the area around the Desperation Orb Warehouse.
Giroda has tasked them with upgrading the electrical system of the entire Wishing Woods within five years.
Research Institute
Since I was kind of confused by this initially, I'm giving this a subsection here. Created by Chigda and Avicinda as a separate office from the Wishcraft Lab, the Research Institute took budget and resources away from the Wishcraft Lab. Publicly, they were stated to be developing Whimtech weapons for the Paladins, but never actually produced anything. In reality, the Research Institute was a prison for human stylists kidnapped by the Paladins. Quick-Wish Bottles were also created here in the process of trying to create a second Aureum Vase.
After Chigda's defeat, fairies who had unwittingly joined the Research Institute have been absorbed into the Wishcraft Lab.
Quick-Flight Firefighters
Color: red
Ornament: splash of water
Roles: firefighting, preparing water balloons, emergency services


They're obviously found at the fire station in the residential area, where they have many water balloons prepared.
Fires were previously more common in the Wishing Woods when the confetti cannons were powered through ignition. Since the switch to compressed air, this doesn't happen as often anymore and the firefighters now mostly work as a general emergency service and also also help out other fairies where they can.
Wish Master's Paladins
Color: orange, may actually be brown
Ornament: feathered plume, supervisors additionally have a metal band with the four pointed star, captain gets a helm with the four pointed star
Roles: Faewish sprite military, bodyguards to the Wish Master, security guards, peacekeeping


Yes, Avicinda's outfit really is yellow compared to the orange/brown of the other Paladins.

Paladins carry wooden swords and use either Whim or some other natural Faewish magic to fight. Most of them can be found around the Grand Millewish Tree, naturally centered at their garrison, but also as guards in key entrances to the different areas of the tree. They are however, also found all over the Wishing Woods, either as guards or patrolling the area.
At the garrison there is also a trio of non-uniformed fairies doing exercises. I assume these are fresh recruits.
Under Chigda and Avicinda's control, they were exceptionally corrupt and abused their power against other Faewish Sprites while also regularly invading the Abandoned District. It would seem no Paladins other than Avicinda were aware of the true purposes of their work, being only given pieces of the truth here and there, just enough to keep them loyal and willing to abuse their power.
Giroda is presently working on reforming them into a better peacekeeping organization and has recruited new Paladins, which he's sent to start peace talks with the Pieceys.
Temple of Wishes Library
Color: light green
Ornament: meteorites from the Aurosa Valley
Roles: maintaining the books in the archive, importing new books, Faewish education

As head librarian, Pokobo's coloration is more yellow-green than her colleagues'.


They seem to be far fewer in number compared to other groups.
Under Chigda's rule, the library was completely closed off to the public as part of his efforts to control history.
Giroda reinstated Pokobo after her firing and has allowed the lending of books. He's also allowed her to start importing new literature to improve Faewish Sprites' critical thinking and general education of the world beyond the Wishing Woods.
Delicious Wish Clinic
Color: standard blue
Ornament: bandage patch on side of hood
Roles: doctors, medical staff, treating Desperation Syndrome, assisting the dye station


We saw them in action when the mutated vines attacked the Wishball field in the story. Not much to say about them IMO, they're doctors and most of them are found in the clinic, which is one level above the residential area. Desperation Syndrome is their biggest concern but it's not as common as in the past due to the improvements to the Wish Inspection Center. Most of their work comes from young Faewish Sprites.
Their predecessor is the Desperation Syndrome Research Center. It would seem they became a more general clinic after treatment with Delicious Orbs became possible.
Interestingly, you can find a lot of them helping at the dye station.
Dye Station/Workshop
Note: I'm unsure if there is an official name for this one
Color: light blue, close to cyan
Ornament: glimmergrass flower
Roles: conversion of glimmergrass into dyes, bottling and storage of dyes, management of dye inventory, several also work for Timis


There does not seem to be any of them with the supervisor outfit that I could find.
They are mostly found at the dye station, reachable via cannon to the right of the Temple of Wishes (I'm noting this because I always get lost trying to find them).
Most of Timis's Beauty Lab staff appear to also be from this group, so they also probably consist of a lot of designers or are more inclined to be interested in makeup due to the nature of their work.
The dyes are mostly used in preparation of clothes for baby Faewish Sprites for the Coming-of-Age Ceremony.
Medical staff can be found assisting them as well. Maybe because a lot of them left to work for Timis...?
Anglers
Note: there's no official name for this if they are a formal organization/group, so I am going by Gooeybo's shop "Angler's Catch"
Color: light(ish) blue
Ornament: fish fin
Roles: they are fishing!

As far as I could find, Gooeybo is the only angler with the supervisor style outfit, but does not seem to use the coloration.

A few can be found diving in the river beside the Beauty Lab's Waterwheel or near Elderwood Riverbank where you first enter the Wishing Woods.
Gardeners/Farmers
Note: this is another one with no official name as far as I've seen and in fact it's not spelled out what they do, but based on the placement of these NPCs and what Bachada sells, I assume they are either of the above
Color: turquoise
Ornament: four pointed star flower with two green leaves for supervisor, two leaves for standard
Roles: appears to largely be in charge of cultivating plants like lampblooms and glimmerglass, harvests sol fruit and stellar fruit, presumably they are the ones who wrap Delicious Orbs in sol fruit leaves

Bachada seems to be the only one with this ornament and the supervisor outfit, but does not use the coloration. I feel like I've seen other NPCs with this ornament, but I'm having trouble finding them.

They can be found in several places, but notably some of them are working in Dorobo's kitchen overseeing the Delicious Orbs and other vegetables.
Ironically, I couldn't find any of them working in the farm that Timis rented.
Minigames
Color: dark orange
Ornament: standard minigame hat
Role: facilitating minigames

I just felt like I had to include them.
#infinity nikki#infinity nikki spoilers#infinity nikki lore#i uhhh this probably wouldve been better as a google doc or smth huh but. i got really far into it before thinking this so i got committed#TIL THERES A 30 IMAGE LIMIT#thankfully I hit it on literally the last image#i think i got everything i wanted to say down#faewish sprite
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more fratadjacent!ellie and adhdhaving!reader and their impulsive nature because why not fuck it. it’s tuesday.
a lil freaky at the end but nun crazy. mentions of drugs and sex lol
—
“You’re back early.”
Yeah, maybe. Your bottle’s been empty for a day and a half and you're knocking on the devil’s door a week in advance, but who could blame you?
Your productivity was at an all time high throughout these last couple weeks. The schedule was the same; pop one of Ellie’s gifted dexies at 7:30am, inhale a concerning amount of coffee, and breeze through every annotation assignment, paper, project, pre-rec review. Everything, everything. Every fucking bothersome pest that you’ve put off for the better part of the term was completed within a two week time frame.
What the fuck was in that bottle?
Sure, your usual supply redirects your priorities, hushes the distracts that make your brain whirlwind—your work gets finished, but this? “Dextro”? It’s not the dex you know and love. You rode an accomplished high for three days straight. You can’t recall the last time you’ve slept or eaten properly but you don’t want to. The ball of meat in the middle of your skull told you you were satisfied, just as long as you’re dex-ed up.
This may be withdrawals. You’re uncharacteristically twitchy; possibly from the thrill of seeing Head Druglord. Or maybe your body’s trying to force a cleanse to filter all the man-made chemicals out of your body.
You hope your body betrays you. Midterm preparations are around the corner.
“Yeah.”
“Glad to see you’re still around.”
Around meaning alive and not drowning in a pool of your own vomit, you suppose. Cute. Funny. You don’t laugh. “Okay.”
Ellie nods down at your sneakers with that same cunning sparkle. “New shoes?”
“No.” It’s almost their five year anniversary. She smiles a bit too brightly, too prettily. Your fingers won’t stop shaking.
“Need that fill?” Condescendingly hushed, a brow arched in questioning despite already knowing the answer. She looks hot but you can’t process it because you’re out. Muscle memory leads you at all times; one swift reach into the water holder of your backpack for the pill bottle, shoved miraculously with thirty bucks. A repayment for last time.
She doesn’t acknowledge your silent indication of restocking the goddamn jar. “You gotta second? I actually wanted to talk to you about something.”
You blink dumbly.
Spidey senses tingle, urge you to freeze or run for your fucking life. Ellie’s a stranger. Albeit weird and hot, but a stranger, the main ones you were trained not to trust. But your best friend trusts her enough to send you her way.
“You can say no, I’ll still stock you.” She snorts.
Temptation is your greatest demon. Your feet answer for you with every step into her apartment.
—
Her residence is surprisingly normal.
Posters. A lot of Greek mythology textbooks. A cracked TV. A ripped squishmallow. There’s a giant star painted on the ceiling. How she managed the lines with such precision is fucking insane. You can barely do the five-lined crossover stars with accuracy, let alone no crosses—
“Do you smoke?” She wisps brightly, interrupting your train of thought.
“Used to. I tweaked once and never touched it again.”
“Shit… maybe I shouldn’t ask you—“
“What is it, Ellie?”
She leans up against her dining table, hands shoved in her hoodie pockets. “I gotta new pack.”
“Congrats.”
She snickers, “I think you’d make a good tester.” She proposes and you squint.
“Do I look like a lab rat?”
She assesses from your head to your busted sneakers with a mischievous glint. “A bit.” She snarks jokingly.
Said stranger is now asking to smoke you out. Free of charge again. The hairs on your arms stand at attention. Freaked the fuck out.
According to filmmakers, the only reason a dealer would ask another stranger to test any product for them is: a vendetta. To kill their ass with no trace, lure them in with white only to shoot them in the face. Or…
Or. Big fucking or.
This may be her flirting. Fucking for free drugs, but you’re not a prostitute. You’re just stupid. And you also haven’t fucked, you hardly know her last name—so maybe not, but it could be. Ellie’s a slut according to everyone that breathes on campus so fucking maybe.
“Are you trying to fuck me?”
You expect an exaggerated reaction—wide eyes, dropped jaw, even a little gasp from the random accusation, but none display. Still a chill pickle.
“No. Are you?”
Your exhale leaves in wobbles. “No.”
“You sound unsure.” She smirks.
“I…”
“Oh?” She hums lowly.
“Shut up.”
“What, you can ask me but I can’t ask you?”
“I-I’m… I—“
She laughs to herself. “If you wanna, we can. Wherever,” she waves a finger around her living room, “just not my room, ‘s messy.”
“This is weird as fuck.”
“You brought it up. Your bottle’s right there...” she lazily points towards the dresser that— oh. Lots of labeled pill bottles, lots of baggies with white shit in them. Lots of green, both smokable and wrapped with rubber bands. How’d you not see that there?
“You can leave that one and go,” she nods towards the one in your hand that holds her cash, “we can fuck, or you can be a tester. Or all three if you’d like, no particular order.”
No fight or flight skills, spidey senses silenced by temptation. Of course this is the outcome.
Your backpack thuds to the floor before you kick your shoes off, eyes locked onto Ellie’s that follow your jerky movements a bit too closely.
“You’re funny.” She mumbles, and your lashes flutter.
“What… what strain?”
A hand leaves her pocket, thumb and index bunched around the corner of a ziploc that holds three pre-rolls, eyes twinkling suggestively.
“Find out.”
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HIIII !!! i have a request for natsuki with a reader gf who’s kinda blunt but sooo in love with him (he loves her too) but many guys on jcc campus try to hit on her but she only has eyes for her dear weapon maker bf
Hiii!!! I love this idea, and I had so much fun writing it! A blunt but totally devoted girlfriend who only cares about Natsuki while the JCC guys keep trying? It’s such a perfect dynamic! I made sure to include plenty of fluff and some jealousy. Hope you enjoy the story! !
The JCC campus was full of idiots.
Every day, it was the same thing—guys hitting on you left and right, acting like they stood a chance. Whether it was in the hallways, the cafeteria, the training grounds, or even during class, someone was always trying to get your attention.
It was exhausting.
“Yo, Y/N!” Some random guy from your combat class jogged up to you as you made your way toward the weapons lab. “How about a friendly spar later?”
“No.”
He blinked at your bluntness, then chuckled. “No need to be so cold. Come on, I’ll go easy on you.”
You turned to him with a deadpan expression. “And I’ll break your arm.”
His smile twitched. “Hah… You’re joking, right?”
You weren’t.
Without waiting for his response, you continued walking. You’d barely made it another ten steps before another voice called out to you.
“Y/N! You free tonight? My friends and I are going out. You should come.”
“No, I shouldn’t.”
He laughed, mistaking your disinterest for playfulness. “Come on, it’ll be fun! I’ll even buy you dinner.”
You didn’t even slow your pace. “I can buy my own food.”
“Playing hard to get, huh?”
You stopped, turned to him, and fixed him with a blank stare. “No. I’m just not interested.”
His grin faltered. Before he could try again, you walked away, sighing.
It wasn’t that you disliked people, but you had zero patience for guys who wouldn’t take a hint. It didn’t matter how many of them tried—your heart was already taken.
By Natsuki Seba.
And you had no intention of looking at anyone else.
|The Weapons Lab|
As expected, you found Natsuki in the weapons lab, surrounded by blueprints, tools, and half-finished prototypes. He was completely absorbed in his work, adjusting a sniper rifle with practiced ease. A streak of oil smudged his cheek
You leaned against the table, arms crossed. “Busy?”
He didn’t look up at first. “Mhm, just a sec—” Then, when your words actually registered, his head snapped up. “Oh, Y/N, Didn’t hear you come in.”
“Obviously.” You glanced at his project. “Another new gun?”
“More like an upgrade. This baby’s gonna have double the accuracy and half the recoil.” He grinned, clearly excited.
You tilted your head. “That’s great. But wouldn’t you have noticed me sooner if you weren’t overworking yourself?”
He blinked, then rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh… maybe.”
You sighed. “Take a break.”
He chuckled. “Bossy today, huh?”
“I’m always like this.”
“True.” He put down his tools and stretched. “So, what’s up?”
You shrugged. “Had to reject three more guys on my way here.”
His hands froze mid-stretch. “Again?”
“Obviously.”
His lips pressed together. “...Do they not get tired of trying?”
“Apparently not.” You crossed your arms. “It’s annoying, but I don’t care. I only have eyes for you.”
Silence.
Then—
“Damn, Y/N.” He groaned, running a hand through his hair as his ears turned red. “You can’t just say stuff like that.”
“I can,” you said matter-of-factly. “Because it’s the truth.”
Natsuki muttered something under his breath, looking away. You caught the words too cute before he sighed and stood up, stepping closer to you.
“Still, it’s crazy,” he said, shaking his head. “So many guys want your attention, and you’re just…” His gaze softened. “Only looking at me.”
“I thought that was obvious?”
He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah. But it still drives me crazy.”
You reached out and wiped the oil off his cheek with your thumb. “I’m all yours, Natsuki.”
His grin widened, and before you could react, he tugged you forward, pressing his forehead against yours.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “And I’m all yours too.”
The next day, you were sitting outside, minding your own business, when yet another JCC guy decided to try his luck.
“Hey, Y/N, got a minute?”
You exhaled slowly. “Unfortunately.”
He smirked, taking that as an invitation to sit beside you. “I’ve been meaning to ask—why don’t you give any of us a chance?”
You glanced at him. “Because I have a boyfriend.”
He blinked, surprised. “Wait, really? Who?”
“Me.”
Both of you turned to see Natsuki Seba standing a few feet away, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.
The guy chuckled awkwardly. “Oh, uh… hey, Seba. Didn’t know she was taken.”
“Well, she is.” Natsuki crossed his arms, his usual carefree tone gone. “So unless you want to be the test subject for my newest weapon, I’d walk away.”
You smirked. Damn, he’s hot when he’s pissed.
The guy paled. “R-right. My bad.” And just like that, he bolted.
You turned to Natsuki, amused. “Didn’t know you got jealous.”
He huffed, plopping down beside you. “I don’t. I just don’t like people bothering you.”
You raised an eyebrow. “So if I started flirting with someone else, you wouldn’t care?”
His expression darkened immediately. “Y/N.”
You laughed. “Relax, I’d never do that.” You leaned in close, lips ghosting his ear. “Because, like I said—I only have eyes for you.”
Natsuki groaned. “You’re gonna kill me one day.”
You smiled. “Yeah. But you’d die happy.”
He sighed, but the corner of his lips twitched up. “Damn right I would.”
And with that, he pulled you in for a kiss, uncaring of who saw.
After all, you were his.
And he was yours.
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in most fics I have read (if not all) the idea goes that only Jason can cook and the rest can't cook at all but bffr they probably all learnt cooking as part of their training because they need to be prepared for any scenario and/or mission where cooking, a basic survival skill, is definitely going to be needed
so for me, the question is not whether they can cook. I headcanon them all as being able to cook, but it's more about what they cook and how they cook ;;
Jason is a feels cook. It comes naturally to him, he doesn't need measurements except just a rough idea of how much and he manages to cook fabulously even without a set recipe. He can taste a dish once and replicate it to 80-90% accuracy.
Tim treats it kind of like chemistry lab time. He needs exact measurements, how many mg and how many tablespoons. He's the type to note down the recipes and scream at "WTF IS ACCORDING TO TASTE" because he needs exact amounts. But because he is super methodical, the food always turns out good. Just, it will always taste the slightest bit different for some reason. He can't figure out why, but no dish ever tastes the same even when he does exactly the same process.
Dick is an experimentor. He can cook and he certainly is good at the usual dishes, but I envision him being someone who's not afraid to mix and match and come up with new combinations. Jason is mildly horrified by some of them. Tim doesn't experiment himself, but he always offers to taste test for Dick because he can stomach anything. Dick has introduced some weird combo to every batfam member that they absolutely love and would have never thought they would like.
Damian is still pretty new to the cooking thing but he's learning from all of them and I imagine he would be a heartfelt cook. His dishes would be ones with history, or culture, or some significance to the person. He cooks with the person eating in mind. He cooks with diligence, with focus, with a way that shows his love silently, but through every bite. He would do any dish, even ones that take a long time, and they all taste so rich and flavorful.
Bruce doesn't cook much, but he knows just enough to survive. Thing is, he doesn't like his own food very much. And he doesn't have to eat his own food because there's usually Alfred, and if not him, all of his children are quite good cooks too.
They all might cook differently, but to him, all of their food tastes like home and warmth. And he wouldn't trade that for the world.
#batman#batfamily#batfam#jason todd#tim drake#dick grayson#damian wayne#bruce wayne#food and cooking#i have an exam tomorrow that i'm gonna flunk#and instead my brain comes up with cooking headcanons for the robins#dcu comics#dc robin#i just think it's not possible that they don't know how to cook#ain't no way batman didn't prepare them for that#basic cooking skills have to be learnt by everyone#this is survival guys#re: self
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I need a stobotnik fic where robotniks called to HR for "fraternizing" with his assistant. Because naturally, robotnik would be confused about it, because he and stone arnt dateing. But then HR come at him with an itemised list of all the freak shit he's done with stone, and i mean ALL of it. So while he does proves he and stone arnt fraternizing, haveing everything him and stone have done laid out like that, he cant help but wonder if he and stone ARE dateing. Or at least have feeling for one another.
Initially he dissmises the thought, blocking it out due to being a stubborn basterd who's terrified of the thought of being able to care for another person in the first placre. But then it starts to keep him up at night. Then he begins to notice the patterns when going throughout his day with stone. How much he relies on the other, how close they are.
Everything that he did mindlessly before: pinning stone to walls, sticking his fingers into stones mouth, putting a tracker watch on stone, how much he touches stone compared to other people, the innate trust he puts in stone every time he drinks one of his coffee's, he now notices it ALL. His brain takeing note of it, and graphing it all with horrible accuracy. And of course robotnik hates it, and tries to go back to the way things were before, but, he cant. He cant stop noticing it now that its been brought to his attention, and its eating him up alive.
So he begins to avoid stone in a vain attempt to stop whatevers going on with him. He doesnt pin stone up to walls anymore, he doesnt call stone in for late night at the lab anymore, he doesnt jab him in the gut anymore, hell he doesnt call stone in for latte's anymore. But to his horror, it makes whatevers happening to him worse. Every soft touch, every adoreing look, it makes him squirm. It makes his gut flutter with a feeling he isnt framilar with and terrifies him.
So he doubles down, going out of his way to push stone away, to get his agent to leave him so that whatever this feeling is will leave him aswell. And yet stone stays, refuses to go until robotnik says resolutely that robotnik says he doesnt want him anymore. And when robotnik does, stone leaves.
And thats what robotniks enemies had been waiting for. Because of him pushing away stone, it creates an opening for anyone who wants to get their hands on him. And so they take it. They shut down his badniks, tie him up, and hull him off to god knows where.
And robotnik begins to genuinlly regret pushing stone away. Of course, he had already regreted it the moment stone had left the lab, the moment he called for stone only for his assistant to never come, but now he's going to die alone and thats more painfull than anything else. Sure, he was content to die alone before, but its hard to have a taste of heaven and want to go back.
Thankfully for him though, he isnt going to die alone, as stone comes back to save him. And seeing stone do so warms something in robotniks cold heart. Because it confirm to him that stone really does care for him, that he likes him enough to put his life on the line for robotnik, and even if ivo has a hard time saying it outloud, that means the world to him.
Additionally, it also makes him unable to deny that stone cares about him. Like sure, stone had shown it before, but ivo was to enwrapped in his own self hatred to notice, too scared to admit that maybe he can be loves, and what that sentiment might imply about his life leading up to now, to ever do anything but dissmiss it. But now he cant dissmiss it, he cant ignore it, he is forced to admit that stone cares about him and that he cares about stone back. And that he hurt the only person who cares about him.. the only person who gave enough of a shit about him to actually look for him when he went missing. The only person who, despite not needing to anymore, went to save him not because he wanted his inteligence or his stature, but because he wanted him... because he wants and cares for ivo. And so its safe to say robotnik starts to feel very guilty about how he treated stone, if he hadnt before.
Oh and he also begins to let himself admit that he may have a slight attraction to stone, because god, watching his scyophant bash his enemies skulls open before carrying him out bridal style does something to him.
What?! He may be a geuise, but he's still a, ugh, PERSON at the end of the day. So as much as he hates to admit it, he has his own weaknesses. And one of them just so happens to be stone manhandling him around while soaked in their enemies blood.
Anyhow, i'd imagine when stone drops robotnik off at the lab and goes to leave again, is when ivo gives him an apology. Of course, its not a good one since this is probobly the firsr apology he's ever given out ever, but the fact that he's giving one out at all is what matters to stone. And so they make up, and stone stays. (Maybe even kiss, not sure. Ivo already had to admit that he cares about someone, and that someone is capable about careing about him, which is already big for him. He might not be ready for the kissing step yet.)
Not sure if they would date after that, but ivo would deffinetly be a lot more open to concider that he might have feelings for stone. So cue a million "how to know if i am in love" google searches, and quizes. Maybe in a fit of desperation he even vaugly asks walters after announceing his un-kidnapping to the old man too, since walters is like, the only person ivo kinda knows enough to feel comfortable asking that. He would still try to make it vauge enough that walters wouldnt suspect that its about himself, or that he might have feelings twards stone.. but, lets be honest, walters reads this man like a book, he knows exactly whats going on.
After a bit of robotnik figureing himself out, i'd imagine him and stone would start dateing. Of course, robotnik would have a time figureing out how to confess. Probobly cycling through and scrapping MANY ideas before he lands on one he's comfortable with. But even then he's still akward as hell trying to go through with it. Talking about emotioms isnt his strong suit, so neither is confessing, thankfully though, atone was thinking of confessing at the same time so ivos burden is lightened. He still cant say "i love you" yet, though he manages to get the message across regardless.
After that, theyre relationship would progress slowly, after all big changes are scary to ivo, aswell as emotional intamacy, but they manage. Getting their way through with light hand holding, gentle touches, and maybe even a forehead kiss or two if theyre lucky.
So yeah, thats all i have, feel free to pitch in any ideas if you want to though.
Also, sorry this is so long, i meant to make this breif but the ideas kept flowing as i wrote lol.
#stobotnik#eggman#jimbotnik#dr. robotnik#ivo robotnik#agent stone#these fucking idiots man.#love em#but jesus chirst are they stupid lol.#also sorry for any spelling mistakes#this is long and im dyslexic so i dont have the time to reread and check for any errors.
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Hey do you happen to know which rapid tests are recommended as safe at the moment?
I'll dig around a bit and see if I can find the latest efficacy study, but cost-wise, you should probably invest in molecular tests like Metrix or Lucria. They have close to 99% accuracy and are meant to be one-and-done, and rapid antigen tests are unreliable unless used for serial testing. It will cost you more money and time to assure a negative with a RAT than with a metrix test: Metrix refills cost ~$15 and are ~95% accurate while each while a two pack of RATs off the shelf at a pharmacy will cost you upwards of $20 and have variable accuracy that seems to be maxing out around 60% in best case scenarios and are prone to false negatives unless used to serial test. Lucria is covid and flu too, so it's worth the cost if you're sick and need to know what you have, but it is single use. The Metrix kit will run you about $50, but its refils are cheaper than other at home covid tests. For serial testing, you'll need at least one test a day, possibly until you're all done being sick, but best practices for catching your most virulent phase of infection is 2 times daily. It adds up quickly, especially if you want/need to test to exit quarantine.
Lucria home test;
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