#The girls at her knitting circle are gonna have a fucking LAUGH

[jtl-fics]

Words cannot express how tempted I am to write a side piece to FF that details GS’ POV from finding out her grandson got stabbed to the reveal.

I want to show her full commitment to the bit. Getting Paul to assist her, listening in as Andrew and Neil talked in the car, her thoughts regarding all of this, Wymack having texted her exactly where she needed to go beforehand, her going up to the receptionist and pretending she doesn’t know English to sell the bit further, the stroke of luck that is dear sweet Nicholas, Squeezing the SHIT out of Wymack’s hand so he doesn’t rat her out because he KNOWS she’s speaks English, and the realization that is “Aw shit, they’re good kids Sara and you’ve already lied to this extent already. Time for the Smith family tradition of ‘COMMIT.’”

[rafesangelita]

Can I please request: Sweet!Pouge!Reader x Rafe. Smut smut smut. Maybe she is sitting with her back against his chest, between his legs and he is teaching her to touch herself, wanting to watch her infront of a mirror but she is super shy, feeling so exposed and tries to close legs, get them to stop etc, he gets super horny just hearing how wet she sounds

warnings: soft!dom!rafe (?), use of the nickname daddy (only one time), slight size kink, finger sucking, fingering, slight praise, voyeurism, squirting, cum eating, teasing

a/n: ty anon for the req <3 i wrote this at seven in the morning.. i’m afraid i might be unhinged.

“i don’t know, rafe..” your brought your thighs together, your boyfriend trailing kisses down the curve of your neck. “just relax, baby, m’gonna show you.” he cooed. rafe currently had you sitting between his legs, your back flushed against his chest. “what’s making you nervous?” you gasped when you felt his large hands snake around your front, cupping you through your bra before rolling your sensitive buds between his fingers.

“i’m the only one without clothes on..” you bit your lip, feeling a sense of relief when rafe slipped his shirt off. “poor thing, feeling exposed huh?” he teased, the warmth of his skin making you relax in his hold. you nodded, glancing at your reflection in the tall mirror in front of rafe’s bed. “see how pretty you look?” he slowly pulled your thighs apart, his eyebrows knitting at the sight of your glistening cunt. “fuck.” you shivered when he cursed under his breath.

“you’re so wet, do you see that?” both of you moaned when he spread your folds, revealing the sensitive bundle of nerves that just ached to be touched. “go ahead, baby, show me what you know.” rafe pressed a wet kiss to your cheek, watching as your fingers found your soaked pussy. you had an idea on how this worked, but you weren’t too sure. instead of starting off soft, you went straight into rubbing your clit, the sensation making you jolt with a gasp.

“woah, go slow pretty girl, there’s no rush.” you did as he said, your heart blooming at the nickname. slowly, you circled your fingers around your entrance, gathering the slick there before stroking upwards where you needed it the most. rafe was going crazy over the fact he could hear just how wet you were, the wet sounds making his cock harden indefinitely. “like this?” you squeaked, your body buzzing with pleasure as he unhooked your bra, squeezing the swells of your breasts.

“shit— yeah, baby. just like that..” he was hypnotized at the sight. there you were, with your pretty pink nails rubbing your pussy for only him to see. “show daddy how you put a finger in.” your eyes widened for a second, the look on rafe’s face giving you all the courage you needed. whimpering, you inserted a finger, feeling pathetic as the sensation didn’t come anywhere near to the way it feels with rafe’s fingers. “it doesn’t feel like yours.” you whined, making rafe huff out a laugh.

“do you want it to?” he prayed you’d say yes to him so he could make you do his favorite thing and have you unravel, shaking and crying out in pure orgasmic bliss. “please, rafe.” you took out your digit, rafe bringing your hand up to his mouth before sucking your succulence off of your finger. “tell you ‘what..” he spoke up, “since this is your first lesson, i’ll go easy and do the hard work for you. but next time? you’re going to give me two orgasms all by yourself.” rafe whispered the last part, sending a shiver down your spine.

“okay..” you agreed. rafe’s hand trailed down your body, his familiar touch making you feel at ease. “i’m gonna fill this cunt up with my fingers and you’re gonna rub that clit for me, you got it?” you smiled, accepting his proposal. rafe was so much bigger than you, his hands being at least three to four times larger than your own. he started out sweet like always, gathering your slick before slowly pushing in a finger until he was knuckle deep. fuck, you felt so full already.

you started circling your clit, the curve of rafe’s finger making you mewl. “you’re so tight, baby, those walls are just squeezing around me.” rafe was sure you could feel his erection poking at your back. your head was resting against his chest now, your eyes screwed shut as you picked up your pace. rafe didn’t dare look away from the mirror, this image forever ingrained in his brain. “feels s’good.” you whined, pulling your plush bottom lip between your teeth.

one thing about rafe; he was going to give you the maximum pleasure experience. with one hand thrusting into you, the other rolling your nipple between his fingers, and his teeth nipping at that sensitive spot on your neck, it wasn’t long before your thighs threatened to shut again. not because you were shy, but because you felt like you were going to make the biggest mess yet. “think you can take one more?” your eyes fluttered open, meeting rafe’s. “yes— oh, my god, yes.”

inserting another finger, rafe started thrusting his digits into you at an unforgiving speed, the pads of his fingers slamming that soft, gummy spot inside of you. you cried out, feeling a stream of wetness before your orgasm hit you full force. “rafe!” you practically screamed, thankful that no one was home to hear your cries. “ah, fuck, give it to me, baby.” rafe kept your legs open as you shook in his arms, your teeth biting down on his bicep. you only bit rafe when you couldn’t take the feeling anymore, your boyfriend picking up on the indication to slow down.

he eased you out of your orgasm, peppering your shoulder with kisses as you went through the aftershocks. rafe was sweet enough to tuck your hair behind your ears, his cock jumping when he met your fucked out gaze. “i think i made a mess-” your voice sounded strained, your legs collapsing once rafe pulled his fingers out, licking the digits once again. “you did. ‘was the hottest thing i’ve ever seen.” he kissed you, making you taste yourself on his lips.

“rafe?” you met his eyes in your shared reflection, “can i make you cum now?”

[bunnyyyuu]

includes: f! reader, aged up! yuuta, noncon/dubcon, rough sex, mean yuuta, dacryphilia

yuuta is kind of tired of being so sweet. he’s always been so nervous and almost too caring during your intimate nights, but he just craves more. especially when he knows how you get when he’s even a little rough.

so, of course, he’s just gonna test the waters. but, poor boy loses control and now he's in the deep end.

he’s got you folded up in the meanest mating press, his hipbones digging into your ass, but, more importantly, his cock bullying your poor cunt. he might've been a little rash—what kinda guy interrupts a relatively slow makout by practically ripping her clothes off? though, he is so obsessed with you like this that he just doesn't care.

you're sobbing. it's not a few tears of pleasure, it's fat blobs streaming down your cheeks, moans replaced with cries. it hurts. he’s slamming into your cervix relentlessly. he thinks you look absolutely beautiful—how’s he supposed to stop?

it's not his fault your salty tears make your pretty puffy cheeks glimmer in the dimness of his bedroom, that they compliment your skin so nicely. and it's certainly not his fault that, the harder you cry, the harder your pussy squeezes his aching dick.

“you're so pretty,” he mumbles.

“it feels so good, right?” he asks with a shaky smile, “so, so good, sweetie.” he’s talking to you like he’s not absolutely wrecking ur insides with an insane stamina.

you shake your head, sniffling. you’d be pushing him off you (or at least trying to get him to slow the fuck down) if he didn't have one hand digging around both your wrists.

“no?” he tilts his head in a faux innocence—now he’s just being a bitch, “your body says otherwise.”

he lets your legs fall on either side of his hips when he moves the hand he was holding them against you with the rub circles on your swollen clit. a moan, for the first time since he forced himself onto you tonight, slips from your mouth and cuts off a choked sob.

“feels awful, huh?” he almost laughs.

you’d never seen your yuuta like this. a sweet, respectful boy. maybe occasionally perverse, though it always seemed to be rooted in love and attraction to you, but this? he’s barely recognizable. he’s dirty and mean.

your clothes were all discarded sans your underwear. the cotton was rubbing against him uncomfortably. naturally he’s gotta get rid of it.

rrrrrriiiiiiiiiipppppppp! he breaks the dampened fabric with no effort at all.

“be quiet, hm?” he says it so sweetly, like yuuta. he shoves the panties into your open mouth with a grin that has to be evil. your cries and half-moans are muffled now, face scrunched up in discomfort at having to taste yourself.

“good,” he praises.

“yuuta, h-hurts,” you barely make out through the ball of fabric in your mouth.

his hips still for a moment, an expression of genuine pondering crossing his features. he knits his brows together and pinches his chin in thought. he lets his eyes wander over your form. face wet and flushed, body covered in his teeth marks and goosebumps, legs shaking like a leaf—he has his answer.

he starts up his movements again, pounding into you somehow harder. you cry out loudly, the broken sound barely even muffled. he smiles so sweetly, that smile thst you love.

“i don't care, pretty girl.”

[softmiso]

honey, i laugh when it sinks in | steve harrington x reader

summary: overcome by her love for steve, reader confesses something monumental.

tags/warnings: smut (18+, mdni!), breeding kink!!!, established relationship, vaginal sex/fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, nipple play, fem!reader

word count: ~600

a/n: regular text size and capitalization under the cut.

cross-posted on ao3

“Fuck–” you moaned as Steve slipped his cock through your folds. He had been teasing you for at least an hour, lapping at you slowly like he had all the time in the world, tweaking at your nipples in the way that only he knew how to do.

“Steve, please,” you pleaded, “stop teasing.” He let out a small chuckle at that, now rubbing his tip on your clit.

“Love when you beg for me, honey.” His next move caught you off guard as he slipped into you with no warning. Your breath hitched at the feeling, at the fullness, and your eyebrows knit together.

He set a slow pace, getting you accustomed to his length, but you wanted more. You tightened your hold on his back, bringing him closer to you.

“Faster, baby.” You moaned wantonly, but rather than doing as you wished, he stopped.

“Where’s that magic word, pretty girl?” You rolled your eyes, amused at his persistence that you use your manners.

“Please, Steve–” and with that, he slammed back into you, now setting the most unrelenting pace. He was hitting your g-spot so well that you were seeing stars and you could have sworn you felt him in your guts.

Almost as if he could read your mind, Steve looked down, pressing his hand on your abdomen.

“Filling you up so well, aren’t I?” He smirked, knowing the effect he had on you. He pressed harder and you let out a loud moan at the stimulation.

In that moment, you looked at him, really looked at him. His chestnut locks fell just perfectly, tiny beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He looked perfect, angelic. Your heart felt full in a way you’d yet to experience, and before you could even process your thoughts, you spoke unrestrictedly.

“Want your babies, Stevie.” His hips stuttered, breaking the pace he had set for a moment, before picking back up.

“That true?” He questioned, and you nodded hesitantly. “Want me to fill you up ‘til you’re round, baby?” At that, he stroked your stomach with the hand that was still pressed there. You moaned, feeling that familiar pressure starting to build at his words.

“Answer me.” He demanded, hand slipping down until his thumb found your clit.

“Want you to fuck me full, Stevie.” You replied, and he started to rub small circles into your bud. You could feel him approaching his peak as well, as his pace had become more erratic.

“Gonna fill you up so good, baby, I promise.” Even as you were both coming undone, he found the chance to be tender with you, tucking your hair back so he could see you properly.

“Wanna–ugh­–wanna cum, Stevie,” you panted, “please can I cum?” His eyes rolled back at your words. He couldn’t believe you were underneath him like this, begging for him. His thumb sped up on your clit and he somehow found a way to thrust into you even deeper.

“Yes, baby, gonna cum with you.” And with that, you felt that release you were yearning for. At the same time, Steve’s hips stuttered to a halt. He filled you to the brim, just as he said he would, and you felt him flooding you.

He collapsed over you, pressing his forehead against yours. You stayed there together for a bit, basking in the aftermath of what had just transpired.

“You serious about that?” He asked, somewhat gingerly now. You nodded, a bit shy as well at this point, and he kissed you tenderly.

“Gonna pull out now, okay?” You immediately felt empty at the loss, but the feeling was short-lived as his fingers replaced his cock. He pushed his cum back into you, lifting his fingers to your mouth for you to clean them off. You did so happily, moaning at the taste of him.

“Put your legs up for me, hon’,” he spoke quietly, “gotta make sure it sticks, right?”

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

[frvnkcastles]

YOU’RE GOOD TO ME ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: When you’ve been working all day, Frank decides to intervene.

Warnings: Stressed reader, feminine nicknames, she/her pronouns, reader wears glasses and is a university student, fluff :)

Word count: 929

Author’s note: I’m very aware I have some requests to get to but honestly I’m so tired because of college lately, so this happened. 😭 I’ve been writing a ton of essays in the past couple of weeks and all I want is Frank to hold me and give me an ”attagirl.” PLEASE. So this is for all my overworked girlies <3

Your neck throbbed with an uncomfortable ache when you craned it to the side, and with a low groan, you reached with your hand to rub the painful spot and averted your eyes from the laptop screen in front of you. Your pained sounds earned an unamused look from Frank who had gone without complaint when you had turned down movie night in favor of your coursework — he always supported his girl and her academic aspirations, of course — but this was where he drew the line.

”Aight, that’s it”, he decided with a grunt, kicking his feet off of the coffee table and reaching for your laptop, only for you to defensively pull back and stop him from stopping you. You knitted your eyebrrows together and glared at him, only for him to chuckle at your protests. ”Sweetheart, it’s been hours. You deserve a break”, Frank insisted, deciding to get up from the couch and circle around the back to drop his face in your neck and his arms around you.

”I know, I know, but I gotta finish this essay by midnight”, you argued through a stifled yawn, and with a grumble against the soft skin of your neck, Frank huffed.

”The fuck? Didn’t ya just write one the other day?” he queried, a frown distorting his handsome face when you tilted your head back to look at him.

”Yes, but that was a scientific text, this is a reflective one”, you explained the difference with a faint smile before leaning up enough to kiss his chin. After that, you looked back at the screen and the jumble of words and shoved your hand underneath your glasses to tiredly rub your eyes.

Humming, Frank kissed the top of your head. ”What a bunch of bullshit”, he muttered under his breath before stealing a glance at the clock on the living room wall and then making his decision for you. ”Hey, it’s barely 10 PM. You’re gonna gimme half an hour without that damn thing between us and then I’ll let ya do your thing, yeah?” he announced, and before you could protest, he was uncurling his strong arms from around your neck to slam your laptop shut and snatch it from your laptop.

”Frankie!” you tried to reason with him, but he shook his head and carried the laptop to the kitchen counter before striding back to the couch and pulling you onto his lap.

”Half an hour, sweetheart”, he emphasized, and as much as you wanted to keep arguing, you couldn’t deny that his warm, firm chest did feel nice against yours, and his big hands drawing soothing circles on your back offered some much-needed relief. As you laid down on top of him, he gently reached for your glasses and folded them on the coffee table before running his thumb across the indents they had left on your face.

”M’pretty girl”, he rasped, and immediately blushing at the praise, you buried your face in his chest and he laughed in a way that was so genuine it made his whole body tremble. ”Still get shy on me, huh?” he teased with a low voice, running his fingers through your hair before taking your hand and placing a kiss on your knuckles, ”don’t ya know I’m sweet on you?”

Chuckling, you nodded and looked back up at him. ”You’re real sweet, Frankie. Kinda think it’d ruin your reputation if people found out what a teddy bear you are with me”, you contemplated out loud, and with a snort, Frank smiled and reeled you in by the jaw, planting a soft kiss on your lips when you were mere inches away.

”As if anyone’d believe that shit”, he pointed out smugly, before kissing you again, slow and sweet.

Sighing, you lowered your head on his chest and listened to the steady beat of his heart as he mindlessly played with your hair. Minutes passed and you started to feel drowsy, even more so when a gentle rain began to tap against the windows and you could just enjoy the moment. You had noticed that with Frank, you didn’t even daydream anymore. What was there to daydream about? You already had the man of your dreams, always there to make you feel good in every sense of the word.

”Half an hour’s up”, Frank mumbled quietly eventually, sooner than you had expected, and with heavy eyelids, you glanced at him only to find him smiling lazily at you. ”You know you’re fuckin’ amazing, right?” he asked, much to your surprise, and with widening eyes, you crossed your hands over his chest and rested against the soft material of his sweater.

”What makes you say that?” you questioned sheepishly, and licking his lips, Frank nodded at the laptop waiting for you once more.

”The way you work. I know you’re tired but you still keep goin’. I fuckin’ adore you, girl. You’re kickin’ ass and it’s so goddamn amazin’ to see. Just know, I’mma always be on your team, yeah?” he praised, and once again, it was hard for you to accept it without getting bashful. But before you could hide, he snuck a thumb beneath your jaw and locked his eyes with you.

”Just really love you, y’know?” he muttered, and with a widening smile, you leaned in to kiss his nose.

”I love you, Frank”, you whispered before reluctantly getting off of him and heading for your laptop where the unfinished work awaited.

”You got this, baby”, he grinned at you from his nook of the couch, ”attagirl.”

[urrockstar-xe]

talk fast - j.m x fem!reader

posted may 14th, 2023 5:25 am

anon asked: hi! i have a request for a jj x fem!reader, i love your writing and i was wondering if you could maybe write something based off the song “talk fast” by 5sos? i feel like it could be very cute🤭 thank you!

i adore this song it's one of my top 10 favs of 5sos, also I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS ty for requesting - xx

contains underage drinking an is kinda totally not following canon at all.

masterlist

wordcount: 1.3k

The orange light from the fire lit up the point in that comforting way that only a firelight can. The smell of beer, sounds of laughter, and music all ignited that familiar buzz in everyone as the nighttime air filled your lungs. 

You were seated against the remains of a tree that had been presumably taken out by one of the more scary storms that tended to overtake the Outer Banks. Sarah was sitting on the log with her legs on either side of you, Kie had been sitting across from you both while you chatted about whatever had been going on with Rafe and that bartender. 

From the corner of your eye, you saw a familiar figure, turning to reveal JJ being pushed around by John B while they both laughed. You smiled before turning your gaze back to Kie, leaning your head against Sarah’s knee. The two girls shared a knowing smile before Sarah gently nudged you with her other leg. “You should go say hi to your boyfriend,” Sarah said in a teasing tone, only causing your smile to grow while you rolled your eyes. “He’s not my boyfriend” you mumbled out, bringing your can to your lips while you spoke. 

“Look at him all bubbly next to Jb, he’s probably talking about how badly he wants to share some old knitted sweater with you,” Kie teased, her eyes not leaving the boys, who had both been too caught up in their own world to realize the three girls looking at them. 

“What the fuck does that even mean?” you asked, not being able to keep your laugh from escaping your lips. “You know like, a really big one you could share,” Kie continued, laughing some herself when Sarah joined you in your fit of giggles. 

“What up, ladies?”  The sound of JJ’s voice caught your attention, looking back in the boys’ direction to see them walking up to where you all sat. You all let out fake groans of protest at the sight. “Here they come, ruining our sacred circle of trust and girlhood,” Sarah joked, causing John B to shoot her a playful glare before responding, “Pretty shit circle,” 

John B took a seat next to Kie, JJ stayed standing, the smile on his face never leaving. “So, what’s the giggles about huh?” John B questioned, nudging Kie and earning a shove in return. 

“Just talking about JJ and Y/n sharing a massive sweater,” Sarah said, shrugging. JJ’s eyebrow quirked up at this as he smirked down at you. “Hey, don’t look at me, this was Kiara’s idea,” You said, putting your hands up in defense. JJ’s eyes shifted to Kie.

John B didn’t even try hiding the confused expression on his face when he asked, “Wait, like one that they’d trade back and forth or one they’d wear at the same time?” 

“One they’d wear at the same time” JJ laughed at Kie’s response. 

“Just an all-around bad idea” You laughed. “Hey, we’d look good in a big sweater together, goddamnit” JJ teased, he smiled as you laughed harder at his words. 

It didn’t take long for JJ to be whisked away by a bet of out-drinking one of the kooks, leaving just you four. “Seriously though you guys should just get together already,” John B said, downing the rest of his beer. You rolled your eyes at this. 

“Probably wouldn’t last,” you said, softly smiling at the boy, looking more so at the hat on his head than at his eyes. 

“You’re joking, right? He’ll take anything he can get from you,” Kie and Sarah both nodded in agreement. You stood up, smiling at your friends before gently shaking your nearly empty beer can. “I’m gonna go get another” and just like that the conversation was over.

You hadn’t kept track of the time all night but now the flames were bigger and you knew it had gotten later because Kie was now walking around picking up any and all of the discarded beer cans and red solo cups.

You felt an arm going around your shoulder, the familiar rings and bracelets revealing who it had been before he could get a word out. You smiled, “hey, J” 

“Hey there, pretty lady” He smiled back at you, “So I’ve been thinking about that sweater-” You threw your head back into his arm, groaning. “We still on this?” 

“Yes, and I think it should say something on the front”

“Oh yeah? Like what? ‘This is our get-along sweater’?” You smiled as JJ laughed. “Nah, somethin’ more unique than that, we can make a list of potentials” You nodded along as he spoke. 

“Yeah we should get right on that,” You teased.

You stood together, in a comfortable silence for a few minutes before you looked up at the blonde. “Hey, can you give me a ride home? JB made Sarah laugh too hard earlier and now there's beer in my hair,” 

You laughed as JJ leaned down and practically inhaled your hair, only to confirm it did indeed smell like beer with a nod. “Yeah, c’mon” “You don’t wanna say bye to everyone?” “Nah, I’m staying with john b tonight so I’ll see him later, and we’ll probably end up hanging out tomorrow night anyway” You nodded in agreement and let the blonde lead you away and towards his dirtbike. 

It didn’t take long for you to be home, hopping off the bike you thanked JJ placing a quick kiss on his cheek. “Hey, wait a sec,” JJ said, getting off his bike and walking the short distance you had walked already. 

You smiled when he put his hands on your cheeks, wrapping your own around his wrists when you looked up at him. “What is it, J?” he didn’t say anything, just softly caressing your face with his thumbs. He really didn’t have to speak at all, all he had to do was look at you the way he was now for you to be melting in his hands. 

Your gaze flicked back and forth from his eyes to his lips before you leaned up and closed the gap. “That what you want, Maybank?” you teased, pecking his lips once more when he smiled. “All I ever want,” You laughed at this, missing the feeling of his touch for a millisecond as he moved his hands to your waist, your arms instinctively moving around his neck. The way he mindlessly leaned toward you sent goosebumps up your arms. 

“This could burn and crash so fast, J” Your smile was less bright as you quietly spoke. JJ nudged his nose against yours, laughing softly when you happily placed another kiss on his mouth before he spoke. “I’d be okay with that” 

“Yeah?” “As long as I got you at some point, yeah. I’m gonna take what I can get, baby” He smiled at you. You laughed remembering what John B had said earlier. 

“You’ve always had me,” you said, ever so slightly shoving his shoulder, making sure his hands would remain on your waist when you did so. 

JJ’s smile only got bigger as he leaned down to kiss you again. “Seriously, J, I have to go wash my hair,” You said, laughing at how he chased your lips when you pulled back. 

“Just one more,” he said, pulling you in closer. You happily gave in to this request, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck as you gave him what he needed before pulling away again. JJ let go this time making his way back to his bike. 

“See you tomorrow, baby” he winked, watching as you walked backward towards your house. “Only if you pick me up from work,” You responded, pointing at him with your keys in hand. 

“Anything for you,”

[gatoplanet]

Prompt: Klaus finds out that due to his meddling in season 2, Dave never came out and lived a miserable life in a loveless marriage, so Klaus goes back in time to before he was married to seduce Dave out of the closet. Dave tried to resist at first but who is he kidding? He hasn’t been able to get this alluring man out of his head since he first stepped foot in the hardware store.

"All right," Klaus says, "I'll admit it. I fucked up."

"I mean," Dave says, "not really. I'm alive."

"Well yeah," Klaus says, flapping the very idea away with his hands, "but I didn't want you alive, baby, I wanted you living."

He's back at the store, but he's not pretending to buy paint this time. He looks - older, maybe? A little less wispy. Feet more firmly on the ground. Still beautiful, Dave can admit that much to himself.

"I'm living," Dave tells him.

"Mm," Klaus says, "right, okay. What're the plans for this evening, Assistant Manager Katz?"

"I'll probably cook something." Dave glances over at the calendar on the wall. "It's Saturday, right? I'll put Lawrence Welk on."

"Oh, c'mon, that's - fair play, actually, I love Lawrence Welk."

"Alice has her knitting circle this evening, so-"

"Hey," Klaus says, poking one of his long fingers right into Dave's chest, "about that. I know you think you're real clever, finding that nice girl to bunker down with, but David. It's the 70s, this is the fun gay decade."

"Fun for who?"

"You, if you're willing to make some lifestyle changes." Klaus waggles an eyebrow, leans his elbow on the counter next to the register. "I can give you a crash course, if you want."

"I - I'm married."

"What exactly," Klaus says, "do you think Alice and Mabel are getting up to at their twice-weekly two-woman knitting circle?"

Dave sighs, closes the cash drawer he'd been counting. "I know, Klaus. It's - it's different."

"Different how?"

"I'm not-"

"Listen," Klaus says. "I've never had earthshattering homosexual sex with you, personally, in this version of reality. But I had a lot of it with someone you have a lot in common with, and I owe it to him to make sure you're looked after. Okay?"

Dave stares at him for a while. It's - it's honestly amazing that he's as beautiful as Dave remembers him being. He's been going over those three meetings with various tints of rose-colored glasses in the years since they happened, and he thought he'd pushed the Klaus in his mind past the point of believable attractiveness sometime during his first tour of duty. Turns out, he was just accounting for aging. The lovely new fine lines around Klaus's eyes.

"Why now?" Dave asks him.

"Oh, you know, things have been hectic-"

"You're a time traveler, aren't you? You could've stopped my wedding, if you wanted."

Klaus sighs. Leans his hip on the counter. "That job you applied for," he says. "The one at the VA in San Francisco?"

"What about it?"

"You're gonna get it. Don't turn it down."

Dave blinks at him.

"Take Alice," Klaus says. "Shit, take Mabel too. Fuckin - get out of here, baby, all of you. Go live your lives."

"I'm." Dave swallows. "I'm gonna get it?"

"You surely are, sweetheart."

"And I - I turned it down?"

Klaus winks at him. "Not yet."

"Why would I do that?"

"Oh, you know, probably the same reason you're doing everything you're doing to yourself. Whatever that reason is."

Dave glances at the calendar again. The notes from his uncle dotted all over the month like ticks.

"It'll be hard, baby," Klaus says. "It's not all gonna be sunshiney days. But god, it's gonna be worth it. You know?"

"I don't know, actually," Dave says. "But you sound like you do."

"Oh, I know enough," Klaus says with a little shrug. "And most important among the things I know is how to locate a prostate - like, trust me, you are gonna thank me the second you step off that plane-"

"Klaus," Dave cuts him off, but he's laughing, and Klaus laughs back. "Klaus, you're - okay, fine."

"Okay fine?"

"Come over," Dave says. "I'll make you dinner. We can watch Lawrence Welk."

"Oh, is that what the kids call it these days?"

Klaus is still smiling, like he does this all the time. Swoops in and out of people's lives and changes them forever. Maybe he does. Or maybe some other Dave just loved him that well.

"You've gotta stick around and meet Alice," Dave says, pulling his apron off to leave behind the till. "She's not gonna believe I finally had a man over if she doesn't see you herself."

"Dinner and breakfast, then," Klaus says, and when he holds out an arm, Dave loops his through it.

[pudimsuki]

Bakugou + pool + nsfw☺️

Pool fingering | Bakugou x reader

Hi, hope you like it ❤

Warnings: NSFW (18+ content), fingering, public place, jealousy, swearing cause it's our blasty boy, haha.

You knew you shouldn't test your luck with your hotheaded boyfriend. Of course you knew. But you did that? Well…

You’ve been teasing him all morning. Class 3-A went for a day off at the pool, planned by Kaminari and Mina, and you decided it would be a great idea to mess with your explosive lover.

First was the too-small bikini you decided to wear. Then you didn't pay much attention to him. Bakugou hates it when you don't pay attention to him. And to complete the package, you were spending way too much time with the other boys, even offering to put sunscreen on them.

Bakugou was fuming. You could tell even with your back turned to him. The way he threw daggers with his gaze at you wasn't the slightest bit subtle. The only reason he still hadn't done anything was his enormous pride, but to say jealousy wasn’t eating him alive would be a big fat lie.

He knew you were doing that on purpose. Oh, he fucking knew.

The way you bowed when talking to Kaminari, or the way you rubbed Kirishima's chest “oh so innocently” when you said he was getting stronger with his new training routine, being especially louder to make sure he would hear it.

He was getting tired of that little game you were playing. But it's when you went to that half and half bastard that he loses his shit.

“Todoroki-san, can you help me put on sunscreen? I can’t reach my lower back.”

The heterochromatic boy blinked at your question, surprised by the sudden request, but as soon as he held the bottle, Mina appeared at your side, whispering in your ear:

"Hope you know what you're doing, cause here comes the bomb."

Before you could react or respond, you felt your arm being gripped by a hand you knew all too well. Bakugou squeezed your arm, pulling you away from a stoic Todoroki who still held the filter in his hands.

“The fuck are you doing?” He growled in your ear.

You turned to face him, battering your eyelashes. “Nothing, Katsu.”

“Don’t play dumb now.” He said, red eyes burning yours. “You’re coming with me.”

You felt a shiver go up your spine, but chose to keep the facade.

“But Katsuki, I wanna swim.”

“I don’t care.”

You pout. “I wanna go to the pool.”

His jaw clenched at your behavior; you were walking on thin ice with him.

“And besides”, you proceed. “Everyone’s here, we can’t just leave now.”

He knit his brows, annoyed, but after a few seconds of deliberation, a mischievous smile came to his lips.

“You wanna go to the pool?”

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously, you knew where that smile came from. “Uh, I guess so.”

“Great, then we go to the pool. You've spent way too much time with these extras.” You blinked, surprised at how easy it was to convince him, but followed him as he led you to one of the corners of the bluish pool.

The cold water was a balm for the hot summer day, and you felt every pore in your body quickly getting used to the change in temperature.

"Hey man, are you going to play?" Kirishima yelled at Bakugou, raising a water polo ball.

"Nah, I'm fine. I’ll play the next round."

Kirishima just shrugged "All right."

"Are you sure you don't want to play?" You asked, knowing your boyfriend's competitive nature.

Bakugou just wrapped an arm around your waist, leaning against the wall of the reservoir, keeping some distance from the others who were already gathering to form teams for the game.

"I have other things in mind." He spoke close to your ear, his voice showing signs of his earlier irritation.

You grinned. "Aw, Katsu. Did you get jealous? That's alright, everyone knows I'm taken."

"Oh, they know. But I think you need a little reminder."

“Yeah? And what are you planning to…” You stop mid sentence, gasping. “Katsuki, what are you doing?” You inquired, feeling him run two fingers up and down your clothed sex.

“Playing with what belongs to me. Got a problem with that?”

He rubbed harder, making you squirm your legs.

“Katsuki, not here.”

“You’re not the one making the rules here, sweetheart.” He growled, holding you in place with his strong arm, your back glued to his chest. “I think you need a little punishment for being such a fucking brat.”

With that said, you felt his hand go inside your bikini panties and moaned at the direct contact. The movement of water making you extra sensitive.

You try to pull away from him, eyes wide at your classmates who are playing absentmindedly not far away.

"Don't you dare leave here. It'll be worse if you try." His voice was angry. Oh boy, you were in serious trouble. "Now this is what's going to happen. You're going to stand here like a good girl while I play with you and you're going to control your fucking voice. Your moans are for my ears only, got it?"

You just nodded quickly, holding his arm for support. You knew there was no escape the moment Bakugou put something in his head.

You stifled a moan as you felt him circling your clit slowly.

"Tell me, how funny it was to tease me, uh?"

Bakugou squeezed your little bundle of nerves between his fingers. Hard. You whimpered, shifting your legs. “Sorry Katsu.”

"Sorry Katsu." He mocks, mimicking the tone of your voice. "I should spank your ass so everyone could see my handprints through that tiny thing you call a bikini."

Any answer you could think of caught in your throat, replaced by a loud moan as Bakugou thrust two of his thick fingers at once into your tight hole.

"Didn't I tell you to control your voice?" He ranted, knuckles deep inside of you. "Or do you want everyone to listen to you, uh? Do you want them to see you purring like a little kitten with just my fingers?"

“N-no, I don’t.” You manage to babble, even with his thrusting starting.

He pulled his fingers out almost completely and thrust them back in tightly. You bite your lip, trying not to make any noise, but he could clearly hear your muffled cries.

“(Y/n)-chan!”

Your eyes widen when you hear Ochaco's voice. For a terrifying second, you think she's aware of your "lewd acts" in the water, but the giant smile she wears makes your worries slip away. In fact, from that little distance, everybody thought he’s just being weirdly affectionate and hugging you, even though he wasn't much of a PDA man. That is, at least for the time being.

You held your boyfriend's wrist, but he pretended not to notice. Instead, he started to thrust with more vigor.

"Answer it." Bakugou ordered in your ear.

"Stop." You mumble, almost desperately.

"If you don't answer her, she'll move closer. You don't want her to see how tight you get around my fingers, do you?"

Your walls contracted involuntarily, causing Bakugou to giggle behind you.

"(Y/n)-chan?" She called again and you noticed with horror that she actually started to approach.

"Ochaco!" You said, too loud to sound normal. "H-hey."

She smiles at you, still oblivious to your boyfriend's steady hand turning you into mud. "Me and the girls are going to buy ice cream. Do you want to come?"

"Uh- I..." That could be an easy way out of the current situation. Bakugou couldn't say no in front of Uraraka, but a slight squeeze on your waist told you better not to test the waters with him. "I pass, s-sorry.”

"Oh okay." She said and you thought she was going to leave, but she frowned at you instead. "Are you okay?"

"Excellent!" Again, too loud. Bakugou chuckled softly. "I'm great."

"Oh, it's just... Your expression looks a little pained."

"Oh" you replied, self moan self surprise. "The... The water! The water is cold."

“Really? I think it’s…”

"Uraraka-san!" Mina yelled from afar. You almost closed your eyes in relief. "Let's go!"

"I’m going!" With that, she said goodbye quickly and left. You breathed, releasing the moan you had been holding back.

"Holy shit,” Bakugou laughed. “I don't know if round face is too slow or if you're just a good actress."

You, on the other hand, were too busy paying attention to the movement of his fingers to laugh.

He fastened his pace, making you close your eyes and lean your head on his shoulder. You whimpered when you felt him hitting a spot that made you see stars. “Katsu, please.”

“What?” He asks above you. “You're gonna cum, princess?”

He could feel you were close, your walls tightening around the double digits. You started to feel a knot form in your stomach.

“Tell me who do you belong to.”

“You, Katsuki. I’m yours.” you cried, not really caring with anything but the feeling of his digits right now. You hoped that the loud laughter and shouts of your friends as they played covered your voice.

“Good girl.” He said, voice deep. You could feel his hard cock pressing your ass behind the fabric of both your bathing suits.

You didn’t last longer. Bakugou was quick to cover your mouth with his hand when you came. The noise you made would definitely have alerted someone closer. You closed your eyes and breathed in as he withdrew his fingers from inside you, your juices mixing with the water.

The boys called Bakugou to play the second round, but he declined by saying he wasn't in the mood. You blinked at him, still coming back from your high, wondering what he would do now, but he just kissed a spot behind your ear before whispering.

“We’re finishing this in the changing room.” He announced. “Guess It’s my turn to be pleased.”

Now, we love a jealous Bakugou, don't we?

Thank u for reading and for the support!

Angie ❤

[any comments will be answered with my main account: @angie-1306]

[twiceinadream]

Twice React- Cockwarming Alpha S/O

Requested: Yup

Request: Can u do omega twice cockwarming for alpha reader 🧑🏾‍🦯

a/u: Hey, everyone! Long time no see, I’ve missed you all so much and I hope you can forgive me for being gone so long. My life has been insanely busy these last few weeks so I hope you enjoy the first thing I’ve written in nearly a month. I love you all and thank you so much for all the love and support! And remember to stream “Alcohol-free”!

Category: NSFW and Fluff

Nayeon

“Here!?”

Nayeon wouldn’t exactly call herself an “exhibitionist”, but then again, she couldn’t say she hated where this was going. You and your girlfriend had agreed to hold Twice’s weekly movie night at your apartment as the two of you spent all evening setting everything up for the girls. And it wasn’t until everyone was nearly ready to start did you pull Nayeon onto your lap and a blanket over her legs. She could feel your hardon through your pants as you snaked a hand between the two of you, pushing your pants and boxers down to let your erection breath. A challenging smile grew on your girlfriend’s lips as she moved her underwear to the side, letting you slip in as she sat back down. Stifling a moan as a jump scare jostled the both of you, making her sink further down onto your cock as she tried to maintain a neutral expression. Doing everything in her power to try and ignore the way your alpha-hood pulsed inside of her as she was forced to endure the next hour and a half filled with you.

Jeongyeon

“Stop moving.”

It had been a few weeks since you and your girlfriend had done anything spontaneous. Your mate just didn’t think it would also involve her members. Jeong bit her lip as the grip she had on your arm tightened even more as you made a show of getting up slightly to fix the blanket you had draped over you and your girlfriend. A playful smirk covered your face as Jeongyeon resisted the urge to hit you as the jostling you caused made her stifle a moan. Your cock nestled nicely inside of her as the rest of her members continued to watch the show playing on the tv. Blissfully unaware of the evil you were conducting on their second eldest Unnie.

Momo

“Y/N.”

Planning trips was hard and you had to commend Momo for all the work she did by herself. So you decided to pay her back the best way you could. A persistent blush covered the eldest Japanese woman’s face as she tried her hardest not to show any indication of what was going on as she moved onto your lap the first half hour into the flight. Ignoring the weird but mysteriously knowing look the flight attendant had given her when the plane had hit a bit of turbulence and she had to bite her finger to stifle the groan that threatened to spill out. You couldn’t help but chuckle lowly as Momo scowled, “Y/N, please.” You just shrugged before continuing to watch the movie that was playing on your phone. But after having you inside of her for the better part of an hour she had finally had enough as you rutted your hips into her. Finally bringing over the edge as she shuddered on top of you, silently releasing all over your lap before she slumped back into you. A cocky smile growing on your face as you whispered into your mate’s ear, “Welcome to the Mile High Club, Momoring.”

Sana

“Oh god…”

Sana couldn’t exactly remember what had caused you two to end up in this position but she found herself on her knees in the middle of the living room with a blindfold over her eyes. She could hear you unzip your pants as the strong scent of your alpha-hood greeted her nose as you placed the tip of your cock to her lips. The corners of her lips curled up into a small smile as you pushed into her mouth. Her tongue rubbed along the underside of your shaft as Sana made a move to bob her head forward, but you stopped her with a hand threaded lightly into her hair, “Not yet, baby.” You could see her eyebrows knit together in confusion as you just kept yourself there, and as time passed you could sense your mate’s neediness as her fists furled and unfurled repeatedly against her thighs. You finally had enough of your own self restraint as you jogged your hips forward. Sana met you halfway as one of her hands came up to play with your balls while she took you down to the root, enjoying the feeling of you shallowly fucking her throat as the hand in her hair tensed as you came.

Jihyo

“Patience Jagiya.”

It wasn’t necessarily Jihyo’s fault she had been so busy these past few weeks, she and her members had a comeback to prepare for and all. But that also didn’t mean you were exactly an angel either. This whole thing started out innocently, it went from your girlfriend sitting next to you on the couch, to her hand on your thigh, then somewhere after that you found yourself buried inside the tight walls of your mate’s heat as she peacefully read a book while perched on top of you. You could feel her clench and unclench around you, testing you, you hated it. Your hands were practically fisting the couch cushions as she continued to rock her hips ever so slowly. You could tell Jihyo was enjoying every second of her sadistic teasing as you whimpered into her ear, “Baby, please.” She just shook her head, “No, you were bad and brats get punished.” You let out a scoff that was cut off by the high pitched moan you let out as she dropped into your lap, making your cock dribble some cum inside of her. “You’re mean.” Jihyo just smiled as she got off you, your hard cock glistening and throbbing in the cool air of the room. “And you’re a brat.”

Mina

“Don’t even think about it.”

Mina was okay with letting you have control. But sometimes when she wanted something, she was gonna get it. Labored breathing filled the bedroom as you collapsed on top of Mina, a satisfied smile on both of your faces as she trailed her fingers along your back. Drawing meaningless circles across your shoulder blades as she felt you soften side of her, you made a move to pull out but your mate stopped you as she suddenly flipped your guy’s positions so that she had you pinned beneath her. A look of surprise on your face as Mina sat up on your lap, “Don't move.” You raised an eyebrow in confusion before she began gyrating her hips, a shocked gasp leaving your mouth as you made a move to stop her. “W..wait.” But the Japanese woman simply ignored you as she could feel you attempt to get hard again, “I said, ‘Don’t move.’.” You whimpered as you could feel yourself growing to a second climax, a pained moan leaving you as you weakly came inside of your girlfriend. A pleased smile grew on her face as she kissed your nose, “Goodnight, Y/N.” She laid back down on top of you, your cock still inside of her as you shrugged, ‘Tomorrow morning should be fun.’

Dahyun

“What if someone sees?”

Going to the beach on a hot summer day was a good idea. Or so Dahyun thought it was. The two of you had arrived early enough to find a small secluded spot on the far side of the beach that was blocked by a small cliff, leaving the two of you in your own little world as you held Dahyun to your front as she peacefully read her book. You spent the last two hours placing kisses along her neck and your hands inching closer to the inside of her thighs, and you could tell your actions were starting to affect her by the way her thighs were rubbing together and her scent was building. A frustrated groan leaving your mate as she threw down her book, “What do you want Y/N!?” You smiled coyly, “I just wanted to see if you wanted to have a little fun?” Your girlfriend’s eyebrow raised in interest, “What did you have in mind?” Dahyun was now filled to the brim with your cock as you had her sit back against your chest, her breath stuck in her throat as she tried to stay as still as possible, “By ‘fun’ I didn’t think you’d mean this.” You smiled coyly, “Well, what did you think I’d suggest?” She shrugged, “I don’t know, Marco Polo?” You let out a laugh that made you bounce slightly, causing Dahyun to rock on your hips as she let out a squeal. “Oh god.” You sat back as your hips finally stilled, “There’s more where that came from. We have all afternoon, Dahyunnie.”

Chaeyoung

“Kinky.” (I slightly apologize for the amount of puns in this)

Chaeyoung was always done for a little exploration. She just wasn’t expecting it on a train to Busan. The two of you were on a midnight train and things were quite monotonous in a train car all alone together, so the two of you decided to spice it up. It didn’t take long for one thing to lead to another as Chaeyoung was lowering herself onto you, her ass stretching to accommodate the small amount of discomfort you caused as she sat flush on your lap. And that’s all the two of you did for the majority of the time until your girlfriend began to get squirmy on top of you, her anal walls clenching around you when you decided it was time to give her what she wanted. Ensuring that no one else was around you bent your girlfriend over the train seat as you railed her into the padding. Your combined moans filling the train car as you bottomed out inside of her and came, your reached a hand around to play with her clit as you felt her walls contract around you again. Content sighs leaving your lips as you sat back into the seats.

Tzuyu

“Hush.”

It was understatement to say that nine people alone wasn’t a lot of people. But it wasn’t enough that Tzuyu had to sit on your lap to “make room” in the jacuzzi. It had happened so fast that you barely registered what your girlfriend had done as she innocently sat onto your lap. Only it wasn’t so innocent since she had freed your alpha-hood from your bathing suit and pushed the bottom of her bathing suit aside and took you inside of her. Your breath caught in your throat as Tzuyu grinded down into you ever so slightly as your hands flew to her hips, trying your best to resist the urge to take her then and there. But you held back as you continued your conversation with Jeongyeon and Momo about new cafés opening up around the city. You almost forgot you were a cock deep inside your mate as she began moving up and down suddenly to splash Nayeon and Chaeyoung who were opposite her, making you grip on her hips tighten as you felt the knot inside your stomach come undone as you suddenly came inside of her. A surprised look took over both of your faces as she turned around to stare at you in disbelief. A dark blush covered your cheeks as you buried your face into the back of her hair, Tzuyu was totally gonna make you pay for that later.

[thegryffindorprincess]

Unforgettable//Draco Malfoy x Reader (SMUT)

A/N: Hi Lovelies! Working through my requests and stuff one at a time and love this one! Draco’s a little OOC, but it’s saucy and smutty and that’s all you Draco whores are here for, also including some platonic hermione x reader, enjoy x

Set: Golden Trio Era

Word Count: 2,002

Warnings: smut, drinking, swearing, choking

“It’s not good enough for me, since I’ve been with you” 

“One fire whiskey on ice for you my love.” Draco grinned, passing Astoria the plastic cup from the table he’d just filled with her favourite drink, producing the ice from the tip of his wand. She giggled and settled into his side, letting his arm fall around her shoulders lazily. He would’ve like to say the way they stood, pressed together felt right, but it didn’t. Her bones didn’t quite slot into his properly and he stood a little awkwardly under her touch. Never the less, Draco placed a kiss to her forehead and observed the scene. Slytherin always held the best parties, that was common knowledge, especially for celebrations like OWLs. The room was decorated in silver, the streamers and balloons glistening in the pale light that always glowed from the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Every student from the fifth and fourth year was attending, not wanting to miss out on a chance to celebrate properly before school and life became much more serious. As Draco and Astoria took their seats on one of the emerald green sofa’s, students began to dance, Blaise tapping his wand to the speaker positioned above the fire place, letting muggle music boom around the room. He attempted to shake off the longing looks coming from some other girls in the room, Pansy attempting to catch his gaze from the dance floor, Sally-Ann twirling her fingers in her hair at the drinks table and Tracy who was trying hard, too hard, to make eye contact with him from the sofa opposite. Draco simply kept his eyes pinned to the entrance way to the common room, as a distraction. Astoria was pining over him at his side, drawing his eyes away from the door to pull him into a kiss. As she did so, he heard the door open and most of the chat that had been filling the room stop suddenly. He glanced up to see Y/N, Hermione, Harry and Ron enter the common room, laughing amungst themselves. Everyone began to whisper or discuss in hushed voices how incredible Y/N Y/L/N looked tonight, as the four of them stepped in confidently, smiling at each other at their impression. 

“Wow.” Tracy Davis exclaimed spinning back round in her seat to face Draco and his gang who were all looking over at her, “she looks incredible.” Draco simply hummed through his lips, face blank. He watched closely as the golden foursome walked over to the drinks table, pouring their chosen beverage into plastic cups, Hermione making the ice swirl into intricate patterns in their drinks. The chat soon returned to normal, giggles errupting from corners of the room every few minutes. Draco sat with his hands pressed together, finger tips resting on his chin, watching Y/N’s every move. You see, the reason all of this was pissing him off, causing his face to knit into a scowl was because it had only been two months since they’d stopped seeing eachother, Y/N spinning him some bullshit about how she needed to focus on the golden trio and not him. And well, nobody rejects Draco Malfoy. He’d tried in the beginning to win her back, leaving her expensive gifts outside her door, persuading some first year minions to send her letters on his behalf, all of which she’d rejected. Then it turned nasty. Draco ended up fucking half of the girls in slytherin, attempting to make her come and talk to him, even if it turned into an argument. But she didn’t, she simply scoffed when Goyle would shout about loud Draco and Pansy’s sex was in their dorm room, roll at eyes at the hickeys adorning Sally-Ann’s neck and laugh with Hermione about his persuit of Tracy. What pissed him off the most though was how completely unbothered Y/N was acting, as if they’d never even spoken before. 

“Draco what’re you staring at?” Astoria asked, Draco suddenly becoming aware that his eyes were burning holes in Y/N, his gaze unbreaking. 

“Nothing.” He responded blankly. “Nothing important at all.”

XXX

Y/N held Hermione’s hands in hers as they danced on the floor together, being some of the only students who recognised the muggle songs that were playing. She loved when Hermione got drunk, her usual up-tight personality disappearing revealing a very care free one instead. Y/N herself could feel the alcohol rushing to her head as she twirled her best friend round in a circle below her, Hermione bursting into a fit of giggles when their hands became twisted and got stuck in an awkward position. 

“I am going to go to the toilet.” Hermione suddenly announced, unlinking her arms from Y/N’s and staggering away towards the stairs.

“Hang on a minute,” Y/N said, following her giggling, “I’ll accompany you.” Hermione nodded quickly, holding Y/N’s hand as they climbed the marble staircase up towards the girls toilets. 

“Such a good friend to me.” Hermione slurred as Y/N opened the toilet door for her, promising to hold it closed from outside for her. She laughed at Hermione’s drunk clinginess, listening to her babbling’s from the hallway. Just as she got comfortable a hand holding the door firmly shut, she heard footsteps coming in her direction.

“Sorry, the toilets occupied, you might have to wait.” She called out. To her slight shock, Draco appeared at the top of the stair case, gaze magnetic, jaw clenched. “Oh.” Y/N murmmered, awkwardly looking down towards her feet, the music from the common room still pounding the walls of the hallway. 

“That’s not a very polite way to greet me Y/L/N” Draco smirked, watching how Y/N still crumbled a little under his stare. “Problem?”

“Not at all, just wondering what you want with me.” Y/N shrugged her shoulders, unbothered. He stepped closer.

“Just wanted a chat.” She swallowed as he moved increasingly closer, his cologne already making her throat close. 

“Thought you were a bit busy for a chat.” Y/N grimaced, moving closer to the wall and further from him. “You know, you look a bit busy chatting with Astoria,” She sent him a warning look “and Pansy and Tracy and Sally-Ann.” Draco chuckled at her feisty tone. 

“Jealous?” He teased, twirling his family ring around on his finger, looking darkly at her through his eyelashes. 

“Hardly.” She scoffed. But he could tell she was lying from the way she couldn’t meet his eyes. 

“Well you might be pleased to know,” Draco began closing the gap between them with a few large strides, one of his pale hands coming up to stroke her cheek, “It’s not good enough for me, since I’ve been with you.” Just as Y/N went to respond, Hermione ermerged from the bathroom. She awkwardly glanced at the situation, mouth opening and closing like a fish before walking back wards towards the stairs. 

“I-I’m gonna go,” She stammered, turning and running down the staircase, “I think I heard Ron calling for me.” Both Draco and Y/N watched her leave, Y/N cursing her best friend for not taking her with her. 

“Where were we?” Draco began again, his hand returning to her cheek. “Oh yes,” He moved his head closer towards hers, her breath getting caught in her throat, “and it’s not going to work for you either, this stupid arrangement.” Y/N scoffed again, this time rolling her eyes.

“Oh yeah? And why’s that?” This time, Draco’s hand trailed it’s way from her cheek to her throat, squeezing just gently enough that she began to squirm. 

“Because nobody can equal me.” Then he closed the gap, his lips pushing against hers, causing her to moan slightly as his teeth bit on her bottom lip. “No more games princess,” he cooed, “tell me what you want.” Y/N grabbed onto his back needily, moving closer to his ear so that she could whisper in it. 

“Just fuck me Malfoy, you know it’s what we both need.” He growled then, attacking her neck with his mouth, carrying her on his front down the hallway to his dorm room, opening the door effortlessly with his free hand. He barged into the room, striding straight to his bed, laying her down roughly, so that her legs were dangling off of the edge and she was on her back. Draco growled again when her dress rode up just high enough so that her panties poked out underneath, his dick hardening with every new inch of flesh he got to see. 

“Fuck.”  He breathed out, watching how she squirmed every time his finger tip touched a new part of her body. He took off her dress, discarding it carelessly to the floor, unbothered about where it went. Then, he hooked his fingers in her thong and yanked it down, watching how she gasped when the cold air from the room hit her. He grinned as he stroked her slit with his fingers, making her let out a string of profantities and his name. “God, say my name again princess.” He hissed as he inserted a finger inside of her, pumping it in and out roughly.

“Draco!” Y/N exclaimed, eyes squished closed as he inserted a second finger into her pussy, She moaned loudly as he sped up, his other hand coming up to her clit, rubbing it in a way that made her hands shoot to his hair, pulling at it. “Don’t stop,” She cooed, making eye contact with him finally, “please don’t let it stop.” He grinned at her pleading but complied, continuing his movements until her shaking legs gave way, her cum wetting his fingers. He pulled them out after her climax before placing them into his mouth, sucking them clean. 

“Sweeter than honey.” He announced, standing up and pulling her so that he was above her. She simply whined as he undid his belt swiftly, pulling out his cock, letting it spring free. “God,” He whispered as he lined himself up with her entrance, “nobody takes this cock like you do.” Draco pushed himself in, making her hiss with pleasure as she took him. He began to thrust into her, the slight curve of his dick hitting the spot inside of her that made her writhe in pure pleasure. “None of those stupid little whores take this cock as good as you princess.” He muttered into her ear as one of his hands came up to snake around her throat, his mouth peppering kisses on her forehead. “Whose my best girl?”

“Me!” Y/N moaned out, feeling his dick reach places that nobody else could, no matter how hard they tried. “I’m yours Draco, I’m yours.” He grunted out at her words, never so pleased to hear the phrase. He continued to hit her G spot over and over again causing her legs to start shaking again. “Dray I’m gonna-”

“I know, I know, let it princess.” He cooed at her gently, moving a strand of hair out of her face as it contorted into an “O” shape. Her legs began to vigorously shake then and Draco could feel her walls tightening around him. “Oh shit, I love you Dray, I love you.” She cried as he felt her cum. He growled into her ear at her tightness, letting his thrusts become sloppy inside of her. 

“I love you too.” He moaned into her ear as she felt his cum release inside of her all at once, causing him to collapse on top of her in exhaustion. Y/N sighed happily as he moved off of her to fall at her side. “Can’t believe you spent two months ignoring me just to tell me you love me.” He smirked, fake gasping when she began swatting his arm. 

“You said it back after fucking half of slytherin.” Y/N replied defensively, melting into his arms as Draco pulled the covers over them, snaking his arms around her waist, pulling her into him, kissing her neck gently. 

“Yes but nobody compares to you Y/N, never will.” Draco whispered gently, feeling any tension in Y/N’s body melt underneath him. “You are absolutely unforgettable.” 

[sweetsbfreex]

a father’s duty

Summary: brought to u by the wholesome picture of Cevans sewing up dodger’s stuffed lion 🤧

Warnings: Talk of trauma (nothing too in depth) and talk of sex

Pairings: Dad, Husband!Ransom x reader

-

You and Ransom were cuddled up together on the couch, some random movie he had chosen that you weren’t paying attention to. You wanted to cuddle, but he insisted on watching this movie so a compromise had to be made. And the feeling of his hand going up and down, inside your shirt, against your arm; Could only make you purr in contentment.

And you were meant to doze off if it wasn’t for the dramatic, high pitched scream of pure agony. You both shot up from your seats, looking at each other wide eyed before dashing up the stairs (Ransom ahead). 

Until you were in the doorway of an overly purple room.

“Mommy! Daddy!”

Ransom let a small, stunned gasp at the feel of a teary eyed four year old, Celeste bolting to his legs. Her small arms had tried to wrap around his legs as she sobbed into his jeans, fists tight as she clutching the denim. 

Confused you had leant down adjacent to her, Ransom peering down from his stance, lifting her arms to softly run circles over her back. 

“What’s wrong baby?” a fake pout on your lips.

“She’s dead!” she had sobbed, her puffy cheek making contact with his expensive jeans to make eye contact with you. 

“What? Who’s dead babe?” Ransom asked, tilting his head downward, eye brows stitched together. 

She propped her chin up against his leg, “Daffy” she blubbered, extending her arm behind her to point at the limp stuffed bunny a few feet away.

“Fucking––” He couldn’t finish his sentence a hearty laugh emitted into the otherwise somber air, still laughing (some tears streaking his face) he had picked up the once blubbering girl so she saddled on his hip. 

“Ransom! It’s not funny and language, god”

“C'mon” he dragged the n, “You gotta admit this is hilarious, she’s so dramatic...I wonder who she gets it from” he smirked, looking at you knowingly. 

“You” you appointed, holding back your smile. 

“As if” he scoffs rolling his eyes. 

“Daffy!” Celeste exclaimed, snapping the two from their loving trance. 

“Right!” you snapped yourself back into mom mode, making way to Daffy and your way back to the two, watching Ransom wipe the tears from Celeste’s face, calming her down in a hushed voice.

You sidle up next to Ransom lifting the stuffed animal, so the both of you could evaluate the state of her favorite buddy. You looked up to him, watching his face scrunch up, almost like disgust, but you knew he was just very confused.

“Jeez leste, what’d you do?” 

The light yellow bunny up front was perfectly fine, but once you had turned it around a tear in the fabric of the it’s “spine” was parted, the thread poking out along the hem. 

“I–– I was just spinning her around”

“Is that really what you did” you prompted.

“No..” she set forward shyly, resting her temple against her father’s shoulder. “There was a string and then I pulled it by accident”

“By accident?” Ransom asked, eyebrows raised. 

“On purpose” she mumbled, eyes tearing up slowly.

Celeste is probably the biggest liar the two of you know. You both have been working on that habit, reassuring her that it was fine and being honest is better most times (minus surprises, safety, etc). You both had even resorted to acting out examples for her. She was getting better, but ever the fibber she still found a way to slip into the habit. And when you had asked her why exactly she loved lying, she only replied with a quib “It’s fun!” giggling to herself. 

“Hey it’s okay, you were curious” he cooed, “Mommy will fix it don’t worry” 

You looked up at him mesmerized, not so surprised at the father he was becoming. Remembering all those nights he had kept the two of you up, even the day you were in labor, he had been worried. How was he ever supposed to love a kid properly–– let alone his–– when he never had that benefit. All these what ifs running through his head in a cycle.

He had even taken it upon himself to sign you both up for those parenting classes. The ones with the fake dolls. Dolls that he held gently as if they were alive.

“I will. You’ve had a long day, love, you wanna go to bed now?” you asked her, smiling. 

She nods silently, reaching her hands out to you. Ready for the familiar night routine to begin.

––––

After Celeste had been put to bed, it was not you and Ransom being the only two up. You were both in your shared bathroom, getting ready for bed. 

You groaned, catching the attention of Ransom. “Sewing that thing is gonna be some work” watching yourself in the mirror as you rub in your lotion. 

“You’re tying that thing together, how hard can that be?”

“I’m sewing it together” 

“Tomato, Tomahto” he responded. 

“Fine, since you think it’s so easy why don’t you fix it for her?” 

“Deal. I’ll take another night of anal as my end” he says this confindently, not expecting another word for you, as he saunters past you briskly but not before placing a kiss to your check and a rough smack to the ass. 

Ransom.

–––––

And god did he take this seriously. Making sure you were up this entire time as he achieved his new level of domesticity. 

And you did, sitting up against the headboard as you watched him sit shirtless across the sized room. 

He sits in the barrel chair. the stuffed animal in his lap, a spool of light pink thread to match the bunny in between his legs, and a packet of needles in his hand. 

“Babe you have to––”

He holds up a hand, stopping you from saying whatever you were about to say.

“I got this babe” he tells you, looking at you wearily as he pulls up a video (‘how to sew stuffed bunny animal together’) on his phone. 

You watch him watch the video,switching the show you were watching to make it seem as if you weren’t watching him too carefully. 

He squints, focused as he listens to the lady in the video.

“You look so cute”

“Thanks” he grumbles, placing a thimble on his pointer finger. 

He was like a cute grandmother. His eyebrows brought together and tongue poking through his cheek, which you teased him endlessly about. There was just something about watching a brawly, grumpy man like him knit. So you pulled your phone out wanting to take a quick picture. 

“Put. it. down.” he tells you, not even looking away from his task.

“Wha–– You’re really creepy, you know that. Smile” you demand of him. “It’d be so cute for the album”

He of course doesn’t smile instead raising the stuffed animal to cover his face from the camera, but you were quick enough to get something before that. Smiling fondly at the adorable photo of his concentrated face. Once you had your fill of serotonin, you closed the device and reached over to set it on your nightstand. 

“You gonna give me a kiss goodnight before you go?” he asks you stoically, head still looking down at his task. 

“Yes Ransom. Just give me a minute’ you respond, shimmying yourself from the soft sheets. You make your way besides Ransom–– naturally he wraps one arm around your waist to bring you–– leaning down and placing a kiss to his cheek (which he smiles at) then his lips. He pulls back first only to return again for a deeper one. Sending you off, finally, with a pinch to your ass. 

“Goodnight, Baby” you tell him over your shoulder on your way back to the bed. 

“Night y/n/n.”

–––––

“y/n” is whispered in your ear and the shaking of your shoulder is what causes you to wake up. You turn your head over your shoulder to see Ransom standing over you gleefully. 

“Ransom?” you rasp, turning your whole body over to face him, looking at the clock on your night stand. “It’s two in the morning!”

“Thanks captain obvious” he mutters, rolling his eyes. Yet, he lifts up the stuffed animal. Both hands on either paws, holding it up to show you. “I finished!”

You instantly noticed the band-aid wrapped around his thumb and the brightest smile on his face. Through it you could see how proud of himself he really was. He really was getting a hand of this dad thing he was still figuring it out. 

Ransom, however, could only think about how tired he was and how strained his eyes felt––probably rimmed red. With the amount of times he had to rewatch the video because he missed or didn’t understand a step. But, for his little girl it was definitely worth it. 

“Well, look at you. You did so good bub” you extend your arm up lazily to then loop it around his neck, bringing him down for a kiss. 

If only his conceited friends could see him now. Thinking about how Danver, one of the many friends he had dropped, would berate him passively. Calling it a women’s role most likely. 

“Thank you” he settles one more kiss, “Let’s go”

“Go where?” you chuckle

“Leste’s room...where else? She’ll need him to sleep the rest of the night comfortably” he explains, removing your arm from his neck. To gently tug your hand.

“You sure?” you ask hesitantly.

“Hundred percent, let’s go”

––––

You open the door slowly, the creaking sound it emitted making you cringe. And when you’re hushed by Ransom, you twist around instantly sending him a stink eye.

And you both stand against the side of her bed, you crouch down. Raising your hand to her shoulder. 

“Lesty” you whisper, your thumb running circles over her shoulder. 

She wakes up slowly, as always. The clear indication that she is awake being when she raises her hand to rub at her eyes.

“Mommy? She stops and gasps, “Are we going to Disney?” asking the question with glee, she sits up, her hands placed over her book patterned pajama pants.

You and Ransom share a short laugh. Remembering how you surprised her just like this months ago. The frown that overtakes her face makes you both want to laugh. 

“I’m going back to sleep” she tells you both, already reaching for her blanket. 

“Wait” you laugh, holding her hand. “There's a surprise for you” 

At your announcement, Ransom steps up holding out the sewed up stuffy. Her tiny hands covered the gasp she let out, muffling it.

“She’s fixed!” she’s astonished, running her fingers  along the stitches. 

Celeste felt like a jumping bean with all this happiness filling her body and she wasn’t sure how to express how happy she felt. So, she jumped onto her mother, arms latched onto her neck. Kissing her cheek incessantly.

“Thank you thank you thank you-”

“Actually––” you start.

“Woah! Woah! Woah!” ever the dramatic, “Momma didn’t do this. I did babe” he tells her, a gobsmacked, playful expression on his face. 

Ransom’s replica quickly unlatched herself from y/n, rocketing herself into his arms. He held onto her tightly. Falling in love with the toothy smile–– albeit it was missing a front one–– she gave him. He was rolling around in her appreciation towards his gesture. This was all he wanted. To be a better man for you to marry and be a better father for his daughter.

He brought her into him a little bit, placing a kiss to her forehead. 

“Anything for you Leste” he tells her in a hush. 

You rise slowly from your crouch, knees a bit sore from how long you were down there. Just in awe of the love they both exerted towards each other. Ransom’s hand lightly flying over the back of her head and Her tiny palm coddling his cheek.

“Time for bed?” you ask the two of them, your hand naturally going to Ransom and Celeste’s shoulder.

“Yeah. I’m tired” she tells you, dragging out the h. Setting her cheek to her dad’s muscled shoulder. Nuzzling her cheek against it lazily. 

“Yeah? Well let’s put you in bed first” Ransom responds. 

You walk behind the two, as Ransom sets her down gently on her bed.

He sets a kiss to her cheek then he pulls back, watching the way her arms tighten around the stuffed animal. 

“You love it?” he asks, a proud smile etched on his face. 

“Yes” she whispers, “Thank you, daddy” her palm caressing the top of it’s head. 

“Anything for you Leste” he reaffirmed. He needed her to know that he’d do anything. Anything. To keep a smile that bright on her precious face. He didn’t want her to doubt if he ever loved her or if she could ever come to him about anything. He especially didn’t want her to think that she’d be second to his work. 

He loved her too much and decided, right when you told him the news, he’d learn from his parents’ mistakes and trauma he had to deal with. 

“Goodnight, honey”

He gets up from his spot watching you lean over placing a kiss to her cheek, tugging the crocheted blanket to Celeste’s chin. 

“Night baby” you tell her sweetly.  

“Night” she replies to the both of you before snuggling into the duck more. 

––––

RIght when you shut the door, you expect to face Ransom’s back walking towards your bedroom. But try not to scream, startled, when your head meets with his chest.

You look up, probably not the smartest thing to do. “You ready for bed?” you ask nervously, each hand landing on his broad shoulders. 

With the way he was looking at you, you would assume you were the last stash of biscoff cookies he always keeps fully stored in the house. Especially, with the other Drysdale in the house, the cookies went by faster when they used to.

“Don’t think so..We made a bet. Remember?” he smiles

“RIght now?!” you hiss lowly. He must have lost his mind. “You woke me up at like three in the morning”

“It was actually two” you whack his arm at his smart mouth, of course he doesn’t react.  “Anyway. A bets a bet. Let’s go baby” he crouches down, lifting you up swiftly into a bride-groom like position.

“Ransom!” you whisper, taken by surprise. 

“A quickie and then we’ll drop her off at your parents tomorrow to get to the real stuff tomorrow” he asserts.

With that, he picks up his speed. Taking you both down the hallway. Once he’s arrived at his destination–– the bedroom–– he throws you on the bed. Laughing to himself with how stricken you look. You should be used to this by now, he tells himself. 

“Ransom!” is the last of his name he hears with a tone of scolding mixed with shock, before he gets to work. When he climbs on top of you quickly––like a lion to prey––biting your neck. 

-

if you enjoyed pls don’t forget to reblog or give feedback if ur up to it <3

[duskamethyst]

possessive.

a/n: i feel like there aren’t a lot of yandere bokuto so i decided to write it myself

word count: 2k

genre: smut, nsfw

warnings: noncon, yandere behavior, overstimulation

pairing: yan!bokuto x f!reader

summary: bokuto isn’t a fan of being the second place in receiving attention, particularly yours. bokuto hates it when you (unintentionally) ignore him, keep him out of the conversation (that doesn’t concern him in the first place) when you talk to his teammates and those seem to be the main problem of the unwanted situation you’re facing going to face. to conclude, even outside the court, bokuto craves for attention.

konoha is your assigned partner for the class assignment but it takes so much more of your time than the other’s since he’s more devoted on his volleyball practices after school than the whole thing. thus, the only time you can manage to talk to him further besides during lunch and class is during his practice.

“okay, so i’ve already finished most of my part so for your part, you’ll need to--” you begin, but only to be cut off by a shout of your name.

“hey, you didn’t even say hi to me?” bokuto runs up to where you and konoha are standing with a frown on his face.

“oh, hi, bokuto.” you smile before turning to the other male beside you. “anyway--”

“what are you guys doing?” he shifts closer, peeking the notebook you’ve been holding to show konoha your progress.

“i’ve told you before, bokuto. we’re partners for our class project!” konoha beams, patting your shoulder and pulls you closer to him in a friendly manner. “you work so fast, i feel bad though.”

bokuto glances at the hand resting on your shoulder but quickly averts his gaze to his friend, “then you better pick up the pace too, huh? so you won’t give her a hard time.”

“yeah,” konoha smiles apologetically. “hey, how about we go to the library tomorrow so we can finish the whole stuff?” you nod and smile at him, the thought that he is not entirely hopeless sends a wave of relief in you.

“can i come?!” bokuto chimes in with puppy eyes. both of you blink at him in confusion.

“nope! it’ll only be the two of us!” konoha laughs, “come on, break time’s over.” he walks away to the center of the court, pushing the sad bokuto along with him.

checking in your bag half-way home, you suddenly realize that you have left some of the materials you need to go through for the assignment tomorrow with konoha. it will be such a drag if you have to stop by school first tomorrow so you lazily walk back to your class and go through under your desk. the door of the class slides open and you turn around to see no other than bokuto.

“oh, hey.” you smile, walking towards the door. “i’m just about to head out. finished practice?”

“oh, yeah-- kinda.” he replies shortly.

“kinda?”

“i told them i wasn’t feeling really well.” he says, sliding back the door close behind him. the thought of bokuto-- this bokuto, is ill is rather absurd to you. you’ve watched him play, and there was not even a single time that this man had gotten any injuries. not even a broken finger from blocking a hard spike from the opponent. he had never even missed a match from being sick. the only time that he seemed “sick” was when he was in those mood swings and he would usually get back up on his feet. nonetheless, he is still human after all.

“you seemed fine earlier.” you exclaim, trying to get to the door but he shifts his body in front of you, blocking the door instead. when you move the left, he moves to the right, vice versa. you look up at him questioningly but you can’t really conclude the expression written on his face and it’s very unusual.

“maybe if you weren’t ogling konoha, you would’ve noticed.” he mutters lowly under his breath but loud enough for you to hear.

“what?” you shake your head. “first of all, i wasn’t. and secondly, if you haven’t noticed, you’re blocking my way.” you reply matter-of-factly, stepping to the side again before he grabs your shoulders and turns you around to pin you against the door. you look at him in horror, realizing that his build is solid and muscular up close and if he wants to hit you, you would definitely get knocked out.

“i really got sick after seeing you and konoha, you know that?” he has the same look on his face and a sly grin comes up across his face afterwards. “of course you don’t. but since we’re alone now.. i can finally have you all to myself.”

he smashes his lips onto yours, the kiss is hasty and rough, his hands begin to wander all over your body before one of them makes its way under your skirt to grab your ass. your trembling hands try to push him away but he doesn’t falter. instead, his grip goes harder.

“don’t even try to resist me.” he warns as his sharp teeth starts to nip on the delicate skin of your neck, leaving harsh purple marks.

“s-stop.” you beg when the hand on your ass moves to rub circles on your clit. it hurts, it’s uncomfortable but as every second passes, even you can feel that you begin to pool under his touch-- let alone the jerk who’s grinning from the results of his work.

“wow, you’re so fucking wet,” he chuckles, rubbing the wetness between his fingers as if feeling it through your panties isn’t enough to convince him. “but i can’t help but to wonder how you taste.”

he easily lifts you up and lays you down on the teacher’s desk before pulling down your panties and puts it inside his pocket. bokuto leans down and pushes your legs up before spreading your slits open with his fingers and sticks his tongue out to lick your clit.

you feel embarrassed when his golden eyes meet yours, watching you as you squirm while his tongue laps up the juices from your sloppy cunt. you recognize the proud look on his face, you’ve seen it when he successfully delivered a cross-court shot over the net during the tournament but never in a million years you’d expect to see the same grin between your thighs.

“you wanna cum don’t you?” he coos as he slides in his finger inside you.

“no..” you whimper, trying to close your legs but his strong hand pushes them further apart.

“well, i’m gonna make you.”

bokuto slides in another finger and starts fingering you continuously, persistent to make sure you’ll cum for him. he curls his fingers and you begin to find a wave of pleasure slowly building up inside you and you hate yourself for it.

“oh? you look like you wanna cum.” he chuckles as he watches your body writhing on the desk. the room is filled with heavy pants and sloshing sounds from your pussy. you start to feel that you’re pushed to edge as bokuto presses down and rubs your clit with his thumb.

“i’m-i’m gonna cum..” you say between breaths.

“it’s okay, baby. cum for me.” he whispers encouragingly as he watches you throw your head back, soft moans slipping out from your pretty lips. bokuto continues with his pace before your body shakes from releasing an orgasm.

“such a good girl.. you wanna make me happy right?” bokuto leans down to kiss all over your face but your mind is too numb to even respond. “say you want me to fuck you.”

you shake your head slowly, you wish for nothing but to end this torture-- but you should’ve known better. bokuto shifts back between your legs and starts to lick your throbbing cunt again. he watches you as your body starts to writhe again, though his gaze is rather intimidating, much different from earlier.

“please, stop.” you plea but fall into deaf ears instead.

“say it.”

seeing how you refuse to “please” him, he continues to lick you while fingering you, overstimulating you while taunting you all at the same time to push you further to edge.

“f-fuck me, bo--” the words are like music to his ears. bokuto quickly stands up and takes out his cock and almost immediately slides into you. a moan of pleasure escapes from his mouth as he starts to thrust his hips and pushes his all of his thick cock inside you.

“you feel so good, baby.” he compliments-- almost too genuinely. he gazes adoringly at how his glistening cock easily slips in and out of your wet hole despite how you denied him earlier and you can feel how he grows impossibly bigger inside you.

you turn your head to the side, not wanting to make unnecessary eye contact with the man violating you, the one making you feel as if you’re nothing more than just a sex doll.

“i’m good aren’t i?” he asks. if it isn’t for the fact that he’s assaulting you, you’d say that the question sounds very innocent.

you refuse to answer as you persistently stare at the wall. your blood boils at how this man has the audacity to shamelessly ask you such a thing. you know how he’s like, you’ve heard it from konoha himself. he tells you how the whole team carries the responsibility to cheer him on while playing in court to ensure that he gets riled up and how he lives off from being praised by them. you thought that it’s ridiculous but who would’ve thought that you’re also experiencing it first hand, only with his cock plowing inside your guts.

the lack of response irritates him. he needs to hear you say that he’s doing a good job, he put so much effort in this. this is what he had always wanted. he would’ve played it nice but seeing how you were all over his friend earlier, how you subconsciously ignored him, made him do this. it’s your fault. you can’t be mad at him. he’s finally alone with you so why can’t you stop staring at the wall and pay more attention to him? you’re making him upset.

bokuto mercilessly picks up his pace and gets rougher, making sure that you know that he is in balls deep. you finally turn to face him, his brows are knitted together, his expression is no longer compassionate as he focuses on making you cum together with him. bokuto knows that he’s giving a brilliant performance when he starts hearing you moan but now he just needs some compliment.

“i never knew you’re this stubborn.”

you bite down on your lips hard and close your eyes as you feel the coil inside you begin to swirl around, threaten to snap but bokuto is quick to pull away and circles your sensitive clit with his thumb. you open your eyes to see him staring back at you as he waits for you to beg for him.

“bokuto, please..” your voice croaked. he slides in his cock again and gives one deep thrust.

“say it.” he pulls out and rams back in once again, the process repeats itself all over until you eventually start to give in.

“y-you make me feel so good.” you whisper. bokuto’s eyes lit up again and a proud smile creeps up to his lips as he starts to fuck you again.

“that wasn’t so hard was it?” he leans down to nibble your neck as your body arches and your legs slowly wraps itself around his waist. “only i can make you cum, right?”

you let out a shaky ‘yes’ to answer his question, though your mind is rather occupied on how his throbbing cock fills every inch of you and your walls wrap so tightly around his.

“so-- fucking tight,” he hisses. “tell me whose cock is making you feel this good right now?”

“yours!” you wail, hands clutching firmly on his shirt. you feel so close and you know that he feels the same from the way he picks up his pace to chase after his high. with a few more “encouraging” whispers slipping from your mouth, bokuto groans as he finally cums inside you and just as what he wishes for, you reach your second orgasm with him. bokuto pants for air while leaning down to the crook of your neck, his cock still twitching inside you to release the last few drops before he’s sure that he’s empty.

“you can only look at me, and only me.” he murmurs and tilts your head to face him before crashing his lips onto yours once again.

deep down you’ve always known and maybe you shouldn’t have underestimated that even outside the court, bokuto craves for attention.

duskamethyst © 2020 • do not modify, translate or repost anywhere.

[rafesangelita]

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!kook!reader

warnings: best friend’s brother, manipulation, slight angst, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, slapping, slight praise, sarah is so fake tbh

word count: 1.3k

a/n: this was supposed to be a blurb but i got a little carried away lmao. all note’s and reblogs mean the world to me <3 mini series masterlist can be found here

“fuck, all i could think about was tasting this pretty pussy again.” rafe draped his arm over you, his hand pressing down onto your stomach. you mewled at his words, your hand coming down to intertwine with his. “ah, fuck.” you whimpered, your back arching off the soft sheets. rafe’s grip on your thigh was bruising, his fingertips digging into your skin as he continuously pushed you towards the edge of euphoria. “look at me.” he delivered a slap to your cunt, the stinging sensation making you jump in his hold.

glancing down at him like he requested, you watched as he inserted two fingers into you, your eyes nearly rolling back in your head at the delicious stretch of his digits. “you see how good you take my fingers? huh, pretty girl, you see that?” you moaned as he brought his soaked fingers to his mouth, sucking off your juices. “i can’t be loud, rafe.” you sucked in a breath when he slapped you once more. “why? because sarah’s downstairs?” he laughed, snaking his way up your body. “because she’d have a bitch fit if she caught you fucking her brother?” he taunted, forcing your thighs open.

without warning, he slid into you, your hand flying to cover your mouth. rafe’s head fell on your shoulder, his noises shooting straight to your core. “holy fuck, y/n.” he started moving slow, your moans muffled by the palm you still had against your lips. rafe looked up, his eyes darkening as he picked up the pace, knowing it’d be impossible for you to keep quiet. finally you moved your hand, gasping for air as rafe hooked both of your legs on top of his shoulders. just when you thought he couldn’t get any deeper, he put you in this position and now you were sure you were seeing stars.

“i can’t!-” you cried when rafe began rubbing tight circles on your clit, his abs flexing with every thrust. “you’re gonna fucking take what i give you.” he grunted, meeting your teary gaze. there was nothing that satisfied rafe more than seeing you all fucked out because of him. your hooded eyes, swollen lips, flushed cheeks, in his opinion you looked the prettiest when he made a mess out of you. “r-rafe,” your thighs started trembling, both of your movements stuttering as you neared your sweet release. you watched as rafe’s adam’s apple bobbed, his eyebrows knitting when he threw his head back.

“cum with me.” he leaned down, taking your lips in a searing kiss as you both tipped over the edge. losing all sense of awareness, your nails dug into his arm as you let out a sound that was between a wail and scream. rafe held you tighter as you felt the warmth of his cum fill you up, his breaths turning into pants as you clenched around him. “you’re so fucking perfect.” he whispered into your neck, your heart pounding in your ears. with a final kiss, he pulled out, collapsing on top of you as your eyes fluttered shut. “fuck.” rafe rolled over, pulling you into his arms.

you wanted nothing more than to stay in rafe’s room, in his bed, smelling his cologne, and falling asleep in your post orgasm bliss, but with sarah waiting for you downstairs you knew you’d have to get up soon. “stay.” you could always leave it to rafe to somehow know what was running through your mind. “i can’t rafe, you know that.” you attempted to move, but rafe didn’t budge, his arms locking you in the way they usually did when you’d tell him you had to leave. “god knows what sarah heard,” you pinched the bridge of your nose, your reailty setting back in.

“she didn’t hear shit, that tv is loud as fuck.” rafe let go of you, the cool air engulfing you instead. “i’m sorry.” you got up, pulling on your underwear, and grabbing your sweatshirt from the corner of the room. rafe watched you get dressed, shaking his head as you did so. “she’s such a shitty friend to you, i don’t know why you care so much.” rafe was mad, you knew that. “she’s my best friend.” you turned, both of you glaring at each other now. “your best friend?” he scoffed, tossing the covers and getting dressed himself. “the same best friend that uses you as a cover up so she can go hang out with pogues instead?” rafe knew he struck a chord when you blinked away tears.

“what kind of ‘best friend’ ditches you on your birthday just to go hang out at some shithole house and do nothing?” rafe kneeled in front of you, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “you’re too good to be her friend,” he kissed you, “fuck her.” rafe wiped your damp cheeks. before you can say anything, sarah yelled. “y/n! pizza’s here!” you and rafe looked at each other, his shoulders falling in defeat when you pushed him away. “i better go.” you quickly ran your fingers through your hair, stealing a glance of yourself in rafe’s mirror. you hated yourself in this moment, knowing rafe was watching you leave him, again.

“what took you so long, you alright?” sarah didn’t look up from her phone, rafe’s words repeating themselves in your head. “yeah, yeah, just had to answer my moms call,” you lied, taking a seat on the couch. sarah paused the movie just in time for you to hear rafe’s door shut from upstairs. “hey, so i was gonna ask you something.” sarah turned towards you. your eyes traveled to rafe, who was already staring you down as he took out two plates from the cabinet. “my dad is literally so annoying, he updated the security system because wheezie snitched me out, but since him, rose, and wheezie are gone, i was thinking maybe you could watch the house for me… like overnight?” and there it was. the entire reason why she asked you to come over in the first place, not because you’re her best friend and she wanted to have a movie night like y’all used too, but because she needed you to cover her ass again.

there was a loud crash in the kitchen, both you and sarah jumping at the noise, “my hand slipped.” rafe looked pissed. you and him both knew the plate crashing on the floor wasn’t an accident. “anyways,” sarah rolled her eyes, “do you think you can do that for me?” she grabbed your shoulders. “pleaseeeee,” you could feel the burn of rafe’s gaze on the side of your face. “uhm.. yeah, okay sure.” you felt so stupid right now. “thank you!” she shot up from the sofa, swinging a backpack over her shoulder as she made her way to the back door. “if my dad calls asking about the back door opening, just tell him we were in the pool.” she waved, running outside.

you stood there, staring at nothing while your ears rung. she knew you were gonna say yes, for fuck’s sake, she already had a bag packed. rafe closed the door, moving the giant curtain to conceal you both. instead of saying ‘i told you so.’ he took you in his embrace, your arms wrapping around him like it was muscle memory. “don’t even be upset.” his hands massaged your lower back. you took in his familiar scent, shaking your head. “i don’t care anymore.” you kissed him, allowing him to lead you to the kitchen island where the pizza was. “you know, i grabbed two plates for a reason.” you accepted the plate with two slices on it. “i knew she was gonna leave, and i knew she was gonna leave us two alone for the night.” he pulled you against him, his erection digging into your back.

“how about round two? and this time you can be as loud as you want?”

[shorkbrian]

Guided

Okay I’m posting on mobile so bear with me

Was gonna do a thanksgiving feeder fic but I’m tired lol

So instead like imagine Kuroo helping Kenma lose his virginity 😳

(Warnings - NSFW! Rape, obvious denial (by Kenma, he knows it’s bad), Kuroo bein a creep, Kenma being a creep. Just general not good vibes)

Like Kenma isn’t exactly anti-social, it’s just he’s a lil shy and prefers to stay in his comfort zone, which involves gaming and little else.

One day the team will not stop bugging leetle Virgin Kenma about getting a girlfriend (“online girlfriends don’t count!”), and he gets a bit self conscious.

Goes to Kuroo, his best friend, his bro, his homie, asks Kuroo what’s the process - how does he get a girlfriend and lose his virginity?

Kuroo is almost taken aback at first, simply cause he assumed Kenma was either gay or just plain not into dating. But after he gets over his shock, he’s so pumped to show his bro the ropes.

Kenna’s expecting like, a talk, or maybe Kuroo will give him tips about how to pick up cute girls, or something like that.

What he was not expecting, was you.

Sitting on the edge of Kuroo’s bed, sniffling, hands balled into fists on top of your skirt.

And Kuroo’s so excited, quickly ushering Kenma into his room to proudly show off his cute little neighbor. You don’t seem happy, but Kuroo ignores that, so Kenma does too.

There’d be no buildup. Just Kuroo pushing Kenma towards you, before taking a seat in his desk chair.

“Go ahead and touch her.” He prompts.

Kenma hesitates, looking at Kuroo with knitted brows.

“Do you not know how?”

Kenma shrugs. He stands in front of you, raises a hand to your shoulder. You flinch when he touches your shirt, when the weight of his hand rests against you. He plays with a piece of your hair, looking at your face, your body, the cute way you’re trembling and shaking like a scared little kid.

“I’ll talk you through it.” Kuroo offers. He’s clearly impatient, but in an excited way, foot tapping against the ground as he leans forward.

Kenma’s glad Kuroo will be giving instructions. He feels a bit awkward like this, and he doesn’t want you to laugh at him.

“You’re sure she’s fine?” Kenma checks. You look scared and you’re crying a bit, which is kinda hot, but Kenma doesn’t want you telling people he assaulted you or something.

“Yeah, she’ll be alright. We had a little chat before you came over - she’s good with this.”

The way you glare at Kuroo through your tears confirms to Kenma that you probably aren’t as okay with this as Kuroo makes it seem. But Kenma kind of doesn’t care, because he’s chubbing up in his pants as he thinks about what’s about to happen.

“Alright, (Y/N), scoot back on the bed so Kenma can sit.”

You promptly obey, and Kenma slides onto the bed in front of you, following Kuroo’s implied suggestion.

“You should always give ‘em a kiss first. You can use tongue if you want, don’t be afraid to really get into it.” Kuroo continues.

Kenma shuffles closer, gingerly grabs your shoulders. He’s starts out with a peck to your lips, the stereotypical sound of kissing is made as he does so.

Kuroo encourages him to do it again, this time for longer.

Kenma indulges, lets himself linger over your lips. He can taste your chapstick, and it’s not unpleasant. Your lips are soft, and your warm, and Kenma quickly decides he likes kissing.

Then Kuroo tells him to use tongue, which Kenma does, and the younger man cringes at the feeling. He doesn’t like using tongue.

But he enjoys kissing, so he goes back to that, almost sucking at your lips, pressing himself close to you. It’s intimate, and it’s kind of exciting, and Kenma finds himself wanting more.

“You can use your hands y’know. Feel her tits, they look nice.”

Kenma does exactly that, and you squeak into his mouth when his hands grab at your chest. Admittedly, he’s probably a bit too excited, cause the second he feels soft flesh under his hands he’s pinching and groping and pulling, and you’re making pained little noises that Kenma discovers he likes.

Kuroo chuckles. “Damn, you’re going pretty hard there. Didn’t take you for a sadist. You can touch other places too, by the way. Anywhere you want.”

Anywhere?

Kenma pulls back from the kiss, his hands abandoning your breasts to roam over your sides, feel the curve of your waist, circle around to palm at your ass. He’s never touched a girl like this, it’s so different from what he knows of his own body.

That goes on for a little bit longer, but Kuroo’s quickly moving him along.

“Okay, you can lay her onto her back now... or I guess you could go doggystyle.” The older man leans back in his chair. “It’s up to you.”

“Okay.” Kenma breathes. He’s fully hard now, and it’s a bit uncomfortable, his cock tenting his pants like that. But he doesn’t know if now was the right time to undress, so he just does what Kuroo says.

He pushes you to lay down on your back - he wants to see your face. It’s a bit puffy and red from the crying, but it makes you look pretty. Plus, Kenma likes your eyes.

He looks over to Kuroo for what he should do next.

“She’s not wearing anything underneath the skirt.” Kuroo grins, and he looks so utterly pleased with himself, but Kenma doesn’t even register that because he’s flipping up your skirt to see for himself.

And fuck, you really aren’t.

He’s seen porn, he knows what he expected to find. But it’s so different in person. He wants to touch, to feel, so he does. Kenma grabs one of your legs, carefully pulling it to the side so he can see a bit more, and you let him, thigh muscles clenching.

Then he’s running a single finger over your folds and holy shit, you’re so warm and pink and his cock is throbbing and he doesn’t know how much longer he can wait.

“You can take your dick out now. She’s all prepped and stuff, so just go for it.”

Kenma pushes his sweatpants just far down enough that his dick can spring free - Kuroo knows how he is about his body, and Kenma doubts you’ll say anything because you’re staring blankly at the ceiling.

It’s a new experience, so it takes him a second to figure out that he has to part your folds with one hand, guide his dripping cock to your home with the other. You keep... fluttering down there and it’s driving him crazy, he can’t even imagine what that’s going to feel like

The second he pushes inside (you’re all wet and hot and tight and - oh you feel so good) he can’t stop the embarrassing noise the tumbles out of his mouth. His cheeks color red, but Kuroo’s quick to reassure him.

“Don’t worry, keep making noise - girls like hearing that you’re feeling good. And you can talk to her you know.”

“You’re-you’re cute.” Kenma blurts, voice shaky. He’s too overwhelmed to do much, he can hardly breathe right now, he can’t think.

“.... how does it feel?” Kuroo prods.

Kenma has to take a second to calm himself before stuttering out “G-good. Really good.”

He was barely a third of the way in, and the way your walls were pulsing around him, sucking him in, trying to milk him was almost too much. He groaned, hands coming to grip your hips, push your legs up and out of the way.

“Kuroo, it feels so good, she’s so tight. H-holy fuck, oh god, this is-“

Kenma gave a little thrust, and whined, almost crumpling over top of you, panting.

“Take your time, there’s no rush.” Kuroo reminds him, and Kenma huffs.

He’s right next to your face like this, and so he moves just a little bit so he can kiss you again. You don’t do much, but Kenma doesn’t know if you’re supposed to. He just hopes that he’s doing an okay job. Maybe you’re a virgin like him, and don’t know what it’s supposed to feel like? Kuroo would be considerate like that, take into account Kenma’s insecurities.

“Yeah, there you go. Move your hips a little.”

Kenma does, gives a few tiny, explorative thrusts. Then a few more, a bit more confident this time. And then he keeps going, and he finds his cock rutting into you steadily, and he doesn’t know how else to describe it other than it feels fucking divine.

He breaks from the kiss with a low moan, looks at your eyes. You’re crying again, cheeks red, avoiding his gaze. That’s okay. Kenma knows eye contact is hard.

Faintly, he registers the sound of Kuroo’s heavy panting, the low curses coming from where his best friend is sitting. He can’t focus on that though, not when his system is short circuiting.

It’s too much stimulation, and his dick has never been this wet and warm and massages like this before, and then Kuroo’s telling him to pull out and jack off over your face, or your skirt, or wherever, and Kenma doesn’t want to because you keep sucking him in hungrily.

But he knows in the back of his mind that pregnancy is a thing, and he’s not thinking straight, wanting to stay inside you forever. That’s why Kuroo’s here, to tell him what to do.

So Kenma pulls out, whimpering at the temperature difference his cock encounters. He’s so sensitive and keyed up that it barely takes a stroke or two (holy shit, your cream is all over his cock and it’s so wet and he’s going to die of pleasure, fuck) before he’s cumming hard.

He hadn’t moved, so his cum shoots onto your skirt, some of it falling onto your bare skin at your hips.

Kenma finishes, and he doesn’t know what to do. Seconds pass, and his breathing evens out, and he can think again. The younger man pats your cheek softly. “Thank you, you uh, did good. Felt nice.”

Kuroo snorts.

Kenma’s incredibly thirsty, and his dick is still out, and he wants to clean it off.

“You have tissues?”

Kuroo scrambles out of the chair, digs in his bedside drawer before a travel size packet of tissues thumps into Kenma’s lap.

“I’ll go get you some water.” He offers. “You did good sweet cheeks, knew you would.” He tells you, before exiting the room.

Kenma clumsily cleans himself off, then tries to wipe his cum out of your skirt. That’s pretty much hopeless, so he quickly gives up. He notices the slick shining over your folds, so he holds up a tissue.

“Do you uh, want me to-“

“Please stop.”

You’re barely loud enough for Kenma to hear. The man shrugs, before tucking his cock back into his sweatpants, pulling them so they’re snug against his hips again.

He clambers off the bed to throw the tissues away, gets met at the door by Kuroo, who’s holding a cup of water.

“So? You feel like a man now?”

Kenma gives a lopsided grin. He feels proud - the other guys can’t tease him about this anymore, he’s fucked a girl.

Kuroo pats him on the shoulder, before handing over the cup of water. “Hell yeah man! Here, I’ll go finish our girl off.”

Finish her off?

Kuroo catches Kenma’s confused look, and he does his best not to chuckle, but Kenma’s known him long enough that he can’t hide his laughter like that.

“She didn’t cum.” Kuroo offers. “Not your fault, it takes a bit more practice. But hey, you can watch how I do it, yeah? Pick up some technique for next time.”

A quick glance to the bed shows you’ve barely moved, just curled up on your side, arms wrapped around your chest.

“Oh, okay.”

Kenma sits in Kuroo’s desk chair, takes a sip of water while he watches Kuroo unbuckle his belt.

He feels good.

[2jaeh]

SESSIONS | LUCAS WONG

genre: fluff, mature themes,

warnings: suggestive grinding, groping

Words: 1,5k

You’re WayVs assistant and you’re incredibly whipped for their charismatic rapper after he stole a steamy kiss from you a year ago.

——————————————————————————

You went through your schedule frantically, realizing that you needed to be somewhere right now. Most of of the staff rooms were empty and you couldn’t find any of the NCT boys anywhere. Being an assistant manager for WayV at SM seemed like a dream job but why have the past couple of months been literal hell ?

SM had hired you to watch over the WayV unit during the resonance promotions seeing as you were the most capable at mandarin than the rest of the assistants, and frankly the only one who hadn’t complained about their recklessness or the farm that was developing at their dorm.

The only issue with being assigned to WayV right now was an attachment to one of the members you wish you’d forgotten. Wong Yukhei, or better known by his stage name Lucas. Ever since you laid eyes on him you felt giddy, like a school girl going through her first crush.

Lucas was so nice to you from the very beginning. He made you comfortable enough to joke around them and always treated you like a friend rather than an employee. The problem though started at SM’s Christmas party a year back.

“Y/n what are you doing here ?” He said, that familiar grin spread across his face as he approached you.

“Hey-y I’m just getting some fresh air” you had responded shyly, leaning against the wall as his huge frame stood in front of you.

“Hey-y I’m just getting some fresh air” you had responded shyly, leaning against the wall as his huge frame stood in front of you.

You couldn’t remember much of how the rest of the conversation went but you do remember at some point Lucas had pinned you against the wall and kissed you. You remembered his large hands grope your thighs as he groaned into the kiss, whispering sweet nothings into your ear. He smelled like tequila and his usual Tom Ford cologne, having him that close was intoxicating. You also remembered when it came to an end, his band mate Yangyang had shouted for him, and Lucas’s last words to you that night was “let me know if you wanna do that again sometime.”

After that night he moved on like nothing happened. It’s not like he didn’t talk to you but he had completely erased that you two had shared an intimate moment together. You hated that after that night your feelings for him had only escalated and unfortunately you couldn’t do anything about that.

You dragged your feet across the floor as you made your way over to the recording studio as that’s where your schedule needed you to be right now. WayV was recording their individual track for the resonance album and you had to make sure all their needs during recording were met.

Opening the door you were greeted by WinWin and Xiaojun, WinWin in the booth and Xiaojun on the couch memorizing his lines.

You playfully nudged him as you took your seat, “you need any snacks or water ?”

“I’m good thanks, the producer just got us drinks too” Xiaojun smiled sweetly.

You nodded and slumped into the couch as he now took his turn and WinWin waved you a goodbye before leaving the studio. Something in you hoped that you missed Lucas’s recording, but a little part of you didn’t.

You got your answer pretty soon when the door flung open and Lucas walked in, sporting a simple black tank top and jeans. His hair was pushed out of his face and he wore clear spectacles. He was effortlessly hot and he knew it.

You had no idea how long you were checking him out but Lucas had noticed and waved his hand in front of your face.

“Hey you” he giggled and awaited a high 5 from you.

You pressed your lips together and hi5ed him, hating that he was still so nice instead of being a dick about the whole situation. Lucas was cocky but not in the way where he would’ve boasted about kissing you or mocked your little crush on him. But it still hurt how normal he was. It hurt so much.

“Alright Lucas we’ll take it from your verse” the producer said as Lucas stepped into the booth and placed the headphones on his head.

He sucked in his lip as his eyebrows knitted together, reading the words before nodding his head to the music that began to fade in.

You knew about their song Nectar. The words, the innuendos, the whole message behind it and it didn’t surprise you that the boys were quite excited to perform this song.

Lucas was his usual playful self, dancing along to the beat and just having fun with the recording. You unconsciously bit down on your lip as Lucas lifted up his shirt in order to feel the cool breeze of the a/c, still dancing along to the beat.

“Great stuff man, hey I’m gonna go meet with the main producers real quick I’ll be back in an hour or so” the producer turned back to you and you nodded.

Suddenly there was an uncomfortable tension in the air as Lucas emerged from the booth and grabbed a bottle of water from the coffee table. You watched as he downed the whole bottle, the veins in his neck became prominent as he swallowed.

You diverted your attention to your phone, hoping he didn’t catch you staring or notice your reddened ears.

“What did you think ?” Lucas asked as he took a seat on the coffee table in front of you, wiping away the small beads of sweat from his forehead.

You looked up at him, “of what...?”

“My recording, stupid” he chuckled and playfully knocked his knee against yours.

“Oh it was good” you replied shyly, his eyes were practically burning into yours as he talked.

Lucas sat back placing his hands behind him for support and spread his legs as he cocked his head to the side.

“I thought you liked me...is it just good?”

“Huh w-what I don’t like you...what” you were a stuttering mess as you tried to compose yourself.

Lucas laughed loud and ran his fingers through his hair, “you’re so cute oh my God it’s insane you know that ?”

You kept quiet, afraid to make yourself look stupid in front of him again when you felt him lean in and place his index finger under your chin, lifting it to meet his gaze once more.

“Those innocent eyes drive me crazy, just like that night we...were together. You remember ?” He licked his bottom lip.

“Y-yeah I do” you murmured placing your hands in your lap and twirled your rings nervously.

“I was waiting for you to let me know when you wanted to do that again and you never did” Lucas pouted and stroked your cheek, “you don’t like me ?”

“No that’s not it!” You blurted and he chuckled. You sighed and swallowed hard, “I do like you Lucas but you just kinda ignored me after so I thought you didn’t like me...”

Lucas’s eyes widened and his lips curled into a smile as he his hands moved to your lap and laced his fingers with yours.

“I clearly remembered telling you to let me know if you wanted to, I thought me kissing you was enough to let you know how I felt about you y/n” Lucas sighed, “when you didn’t respond after I assumed you weren’t into it.”

You groaned loudly and playfully shoved him, “well next time be more clear will you ?!”

Lucas grabbed your face and pulled you into a passionate kiss, quickly dominating it and cheekily bit on your bottom lip before pulling away.

“Is that clear enough for you ?” He said lowly as his hands moved to your sides and drew circles on your hips.

“I meant be more vocal Lucas” you rolled your eyes yet still flushed from his incredible kiss.

Lucas moved from the coffee table to the couch and in one Swift movement he had you on his lap, straddling him.

He laid his head back as he looked at you through hooded eyes and wet his bottom lip with his tongue.

“Vocal huh ?” He mused.

You tried your best not to move on top of him, the last thing you wanted was to get a tiny taste of friction and going all the way in your workplace studio.

“I don’t want to be just a fuck buddy if that’s what you’re into...”

“Now where the hell did I say that damn y/n what do you think of me?” Lucas chuckled and fake cried into his hands.

“I’m sorry I just wanted to put it out there” you bit down on your lip and played with the material of his shirt.

“I want more, Ofcourse I want more” Lucas groaned and pulled you closer, “you know Johnny hyung told me you’re out of my league”

“I-I’m out of y-your league ?”

“I mean he’s kinda right though, you’re perfect I’m sure any of the guys were waiting to get to you” Lucas pouted and placed a soft peck on your neck.

“Well I only want you...” you mumbled not noticing Lucas’s eyes brighten, all you felt was him bear hugging you and placed butterfly kisses all over your face and neck.

“Good!” Lucas grinned before his eyes became dark again, “so now that I’m vocal, I want to hear a different type of vocal from you y/n.”

[marky4l]

Step by Step / Mark Lee

step by step / mkl

pairing: Mark Lee x Reader

From an innocent childhood friendship to a juvenile high school rivalry to a forced pairing for a Psychology paper, it seems you and Mark just can’t avoid each other. But something’s a little different now.

genre: fluff, angst (a little bit), suggestive themes, childhood friends (barely mentioned!) to enemies to lovers, college!au

notes: lia yeonjun chan hyuck jeno all make tiny appearances 

word count: 17.2k 

hi!!! this is my first work nd I’m really excited to put this out I’d looove if you could give it a read :^) hound me on my inbox if u wanna i take anything

“Remember when we were best friends in fifth grade?”

His voice is a little quiet, and there’s a very obvious undertone of boredom, but you hum softly anyway, nodding, as if to question why you would ever forget. Fifth grade was a suburban brew of Star Wars marathons, figuring out the world, and Harry Potter merchandise littering your house. Fifth grade was lemonade and oatmeal, knitted sweaters, and sneaking into your mom’s vanity to swipe her makeup. And fifth grade was Mark—bright eyed, geeky Mark, with his Death Star replica and weird electronica music. 

Mark, who had an affinity with Troy from High School Musical and Spiderman, and wanted to be just like them. Mark, who would show up grinning to your front door everyday, pie dish in his nimble grip. He was the one who had opened a lemonade stand at the corner of your block so he could buy you the Gryffindor scarf you’d been nagging your mom about the entire holiday season. He was the one who learned the chords to your favorite Jonas Brothers song and sang it to you each time you requested it.

“Yes, I do,” you answer instead, clearing your throat. 

You attempt to push down all the memories that just ran through your head and adjust the grip you have on your pen. “Well,” Mark continues, “that was ages ago. Beats me why it ever happened.” 

The timidity is replaced with a tidal wave of teasing, and the annoyance that had disappeared is beginning to crawl all over you. Again. You roll your eyes and pull up the slides your professor had assigned. “Beats me why we even ended up in the same university, let alone the same class,” you jab, “if you thought I forgot about how you outright failed our Spanish classes in high school, I didn’t.”

Your friendship with Mark had reached its unfortunate demise to the hands of middle school, where you had branched out with your interests and began to stick to societal (as societal as school can get) norms. He had joined the geeky, cool kids; you hadn’t joined a specific social circle, but you had a best friend, Lia, and you were generally good with everybody. 

Somehow, despite you both being in good graces with everyone, you had a deep-seated dislike for one another that stemmed from an intense academic rivalry. Specifically, the competition to become school council president. That had ended now, seeing as though you were both in college, but the abrasiveness of your banter had never worn off.

“Oh, because you were so good at Physics?” he says, voice even. His brow is raised. “We all have our strong suits, you know. You’re one to talk.” You decide to pay him no mind, instead jotting down the criteria for your final project in Psychology 1—something about the stages of grief. You’re supposed to relate it to a different human process and show how they fit with one another. 

It’s absolute fucking bullshit, and the fact that Mark Lee became your partner among a hundred students is beyond you. Absolutely beyond you. 

He nears your screen, reading the content of your project, eyes squinted—you’d noticed his lack of decent eyesight years ago, but it seemingly hadn’t improved. “Relate the stages of grief…hold up, what? That’s difficult as hell. What are we supposed to do, lose a loved one?” You roll your eyes, turning to him. “No, Mark. The point is to find another process that happens gradually and relate it to this—denial, bargaining, anger. Get it?”

He stares back at you. “No.”

You groan audibly, turning back to your notebook. “This is impossible. Can we just switch partners so I won’t have to deal with you?” He smirks, kicking his feet up on the library table. Absently, you note how nice his sneakers look. Reclining onto the seat, he shuts his eyes as if to contemplate. 

“I heard through the birdvine our professor’s the type to pair up people she thinks would look good together for shits and giggles. Girls and boys, boys and boys, you name it. Johnny”—he’s referring to a guy who’s a year above yours, studying Biology—“tells me over five couples have been born out of this class. Isn’t that nice?” You scoff, scrolling mindlessly through the slides to keep yourself distracted. 

“It really is. A shame we won’t be adding to that list, because I can’t fucking stand you.” He laughs loudly, the vibration of it remaining in the deadly silent air. “I can stand fucking you, though,” he says, and then, before you can even blush, “All jokes. Don’t get your hopes up, ‘kay?” He’s quick to get up, just as flustered as you are at the uncharacteristic phrase that just left his mouth. He collects his jacket and jogs out of the library with a small, half-assed bye under his breath.

—

Lia’s eyes bore into yours. “He actually said that? I’m telling you, he’s some weird kinky guy under that whole cool geek persona. High school Mark would never have. Oh my god. He’s a furry—he’s a furry!” She flops back onto your bed, laughing. You poke at her waist in protest. 

“It’s because he’s surrounded by too many weird classy fuckboys. You know, those that think that they’re all that because they haven’t roofied a girl.” You’re half-joking, and you’re really only referring to maybe two guys you’ve happened to see Mark with. As if to read your mind, Lia continues. “Hey, I heard some of them are okay. They’re not, like…those ‘nice guys’, if you get me.”

“I do,” you quip. “But I guess I’m just trying to find a way to justify the whole 360 in Mark. I mean, in high school, he was still nerdy—well, you know. Shy. But jump to sophomore year of uni and he’s suddenly some…” You rack your head for a proper term. “Sex god?” your friend asks, holding in a laugh. “Oh, eat shit,” you fire back, “really, eat shit. And while you’re at it, feed me some, too, because I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to turn in at the end of the term. Like, Jes—”

There’s a faint knock at the door, and then. “Lia? It’s—uh, it’s me, Daniel? Er, Daniel Choi.” Your wide eyes can’t possibly match Lia’s as she tugs on a decent-looking pullover and puts it on. As she swings the door open, you manage to sufficiently hide yourself under your duvet and attempt to hear their conversation. 

“You know, it’s okay if you leave out the whole…saying your full name at the door part. Trust me…I know you,” she jokes, and you hear him laugh before you detect the crinkling of a plastic bag. “Chinese. Uh, I bought some extra for your best friend, because I’m not gonna pretend I don’t see the sentient blob on the bed.”

You pull the blanket off and smile sheepishly. “Hey, Daniel,” you say, “thanks for the food. I owe you an empty room next time, I swear by it. It’ll be easy, since I’m gonna be”—you heave yourself off the bed and onto the floor, where they’re both sitting—“holed up at the library for the next few weeks.” 

Lia nods, chewing her chow mein, and then when she’s done, she explains to Daniel your whole huge Psychology end-of-term paper about stages and grief and whatever, oh also she’s partnered with Mark Lee, this guy that we both know from high school, and she dislikes his guts, oh you know him? 

“Wait. You know him?” You repeat, and Daniel nods, ruffling his black mullet. “His room’s, like, three away from mine. He’s studying Theoretical Physics, right? Yeah, he’s always in his room doing school shit, but every weekend he’s out with the upperclassmen. He’s probably out now, ‘cause it’s Friday. How he even charmed them, though, is a mystery.”

Mid-dumpling, you roll your eyes. “Y’know, the hardest part is being partnered with him. But also, even finding what kind of gradual process to relate denial and anger too is weirdly hard. It feels like I could find something, but I haven’t gotten it…quite…” you trail off, your eyes landing on Lia and Daniel across you—they’re smiling softly at each other, and you distinguish their fingers interlocking quietly, as if you wouldn’t notice. 

“…yet. Except maybe I have. How would you want to participate in my end-of-term paper?” Their gazes turn to yours, and you nod frantically. “Oh my god, I’m a genius! Seriously! Falling in love! Yes! It’s denial—anger—whatever, whatever! It makes perfect sense. The end is acceptance, too! Oh god, Li, it’s perfect. I will owe you for life if you help me out.”

“Wait, what? You dove straight into it, what—recap, please,” Lia asks, and you compose yourself before explaining giddily. 

“Falling in love. It happens gradually, and we can compare it to the stages of grief. Seeing as you and Daniel are headed right there, we can use you as some test subjects. It’s not required to have respondents or subjects, really, it’s just an extensive paper, but it might help get the grade up. This is gonna be great, and if you ever wanna back out, you can, because it’s not mandatory.” Lia and Daniel meet eyes briefly, and then slowly, nod. “Okay, that’s pretty smart,” Daniel says, “I’m up for it. Are you?” Lia nods, slowly and hesitantly, and you smile widely. “You two just saved my Psych grade. I’ll be at Giselle’s tonight. Just…not on my bed.” You grab your keys and phone and bound out of your room, straight into the elevator at the end of the hall.

The elevator door nearly closes when a Converse-clad foot steps in, and your eyes rake up the figure, eventually landing on his face. 

“Jesus fuck,” you mumble, “you must be kidding me.” 

Mark enters the elevator with a small, teasing smile, hands tucked into his jacket’s pockets. “Hey, dude, what’s up? Was on your floor on my stop down to get some money Lucas owed me,” he says, “this is actually a godsend, because my genius brain found us a project idea. Relate grief to something else gradual? Easy as pie. Falling in lo—” 

You cut him off before he can finish, “Falling in love, right. I thought of it first, earlier,” you say profusely, absently noting the pettiness in your tone. He whistles. “No need to get all possessive over an idea the previous classes have used before, man.” You continue, ignoring him. “Whatever. Lucky for our grades, I went the extra mile to get us some test subjects. Do you know the two Chois? Lia and Daniel?” 

He nods once, “Yeah, their PDA on Instagram is fucking sickening, but I see your technique, and I like that—we get some extra data from their god awful PDA.” You nod once, and he continues. “It’s nearing 11 on a Friday night. Whose party are you headed to?”

“You’re welcome for the test subjects,” you gripe. “Anyway, I was so giddy about coming up with it, I just left them to…well, fornicate. As a compromise for being lab rats. I texted my…” you realize you’re starting to share too much to a guy you typically dislike talking to, and then there’s a silence in the air that’s painfully awkward. 

“You texted your…?” Mark asks. “My friend, but she’ll be home at 1AM, so I’m out to kill time. No parties, just…I dunno.” He nods again, and then the elevator lets out a blissful ding. You step out simultaneously, and then he faces you. “Look, it’s freezing out, you’re in shorts and a puffer coat, and it’s three hours to 1AM, so I doubt you’ll get far.” You scoff at his words despite feeling your legs shake from the breeze outside. “I’ll be fine, dumbass.”

“Just concerned,” he says, in a tone that sounds more blank than annoyed, but he turns and heads toward the door anyway. He swivels back around briefly. “It’s in Johnny’s apartment. Just a couple people, if you get bored freezing.” He jogs outside then, and you inwardly appreciate the small gesture, but again, annoyance returns just as quickly. You linger a bit before heading out yourself, walking briskly to a local Japanese restaurant. You consider this an opportunity to have some me time, some rest after a shitty week in university. Lasting ’til 1AM alone and entertained would not at all be a problem. 

You last one ramen bowl and head to Johnny’s apartment.

—

When Johnny Suh answers the door, he’s clad in a makeshift shower curtain gown of sorts, and is flushed and very buzzed all over. He hikes up the top to cover his chest and laughs profusely. “Did Mark invite you?” Behind him is a sizeable group of just about twenty people, which looks like forty in a cramped communal space. You’d been here before—Johnny likes to invite just about anyone to get stoned and listen to Kid Cudi on Fridays, and you had pushed Lia to accompany you before. 

You distantly spot the kitchenette, the small living room, and then the two bedroom doors opposing each other. “The rule was to show up wearing something not marketed as clothing, but Mark didn’t follow the rules, so. Anyway, you’re off scot-free, too…” he pauses, “…if you take off the puffer coat. We’ve got heating, anyway. Free booze and weed, too.” You figure being in a flimsy tank top isn’t so bad—you’re sure half the people here are already getting laid or trying to, and nobody would really pay attention to you.

You shrug off the coat as Johnny steps aside to let you in, hugging it close to your body and navigating your way to the kitchen. The granite counters are filled with various bottles of booze, and you also note the cigarettes and blunts lining the island. You peruse the brands before settling on a sealed can of decidedly not-so-cheap-looking beer, and crack it open to take a swig. It’s warm and fucking disgusting, but there’s not much glitz in an “anything but clothing” off-campus college party anyway. 

There are several people scattered among the living area, passing around a blunt—another group is playing suck and blow. You make your way over to the cheap couch on the far end of the room, taking a seat on the arm and stretching out your hand to claim the blunt. It’s Jae who passes it to you—Jaehyun Jung, an upperclassman whose infamy (for wearing nothing but toilet paper and running through campus) greatly surpasses him. “Who are you?” he asks, and you holler your name back over the Kanye West song playing in the background. “Mark invited me,” you tack onto the end as compensation.

He nods in understanding, watching you take a drag and pass it back to him. He only hands it back, saying, “It’s nearly done, just finish it,” and getting up to probably get some booze or another blunt. 

You scan the area for a better place to cherish your weed, because you’re definitely not going to do it on the arm of a couch housing three couples making out to the high heavens. You spot an open window and a fire escape just beside the kitchen and walk over, ducking into the cool night air. It’s not quiet, it never is, and you treasure the peace that comes with the noise, closing your eyes and trying to milk the last few drags. All that is flushed down the drain when somebody kicks you out of your reverie and your last two drags are falling down, through the grills of the fire escape. 

“What the fuck?” You look up to meet, of course, Mark’s gaze, teasing and mischievous. 

“That wasn’t fucking funny, asshat. Get away from me.” You get up instantly, ducking back into the house and searching for your coat. It’s (very unfortunately) buried under a couple who have escalated from making out to borderline public indecency.

“Fuck it,” you mumble, swinging the door open and mentally preparing yourself for the cold once you get to the sidewalk, floors down. Mark follows suit, a laugh gracing the atmosphere around the two of you. “You know, I forgot how fun it is to make you pissed off. I did it all the time in eighth grade when I told our teacher you knew the solution to the Physics problems.” You’re fucking pissed. However petty, you’re fucking annoyed that you couldn’t finish the blunt, and you pay no attention to him. 

He badgers on anyway. “Hey—it was a mistake, I wanted to say hi to you.” You scoff, finally turning—“Why? Because we’re friends? We’re not. We’re Psych partners, we came from the same high school, we share a couple mutual friends. But you and I are not friends, not objectively, anyway. Please, Mark. I only just re-acquainted myself with you today, but, like, you’re already so annoying!” You’re at the elevator now, and when the doors slide open, you step inside and let them close at once. You barely catch the unreadable look on his face in your annoyance, and you lean against the wall, shutting your eyes and breathing heavily. 

How you’d even get to Giselle’s, or how you would wait out the remaining half-hour before she got home, was just up to whichever higher power happened to be witnessing you that night.

—

The door of your professor’s office closes with a saddening click. You stare back at her name, embossed on the wood in bold, in defeat, accepting your fate with a heavy heart. Just fifteen minutes prior, you had entered with a whole spiel prepared on how you just had to swap with somebody from your class so you wouldn’t have to work with Mark. This speech had occurred twice now—with your TA, and then once with your professor. This was your second chance, your redemption: so you prepared notes, you prepared convincing words—you had a point. 

But your professor simply shooed you away, muttering how she didn’t have time for you because she was going to be receiving hundreds of papers in a few weeks’ time from a different class and she, quite honestly, couldn’t be bothered. You bite your lip, thinking back to the previous Friday—it was nearing two weeks since your small outburst at Mark. Since then, you’d expected to build a silent rapport of just working, observing Lia and Daniel, and then parting. And that was almost it. You would show up to your so-called “lab rat sessions”, cup of warm caramel latte in hand, and work. 

Except Mark would constantly make noise, jeer, swipe your pen, and do other things that got on your nerves.

“You’re going to have to stop trying sometime,” Lia says, backhugging you. She’d been waiting outside. You let your head loll back onto her shoulder and whine. “Do you know when you’re so frustrated you want to cry? Yeah? That’s exactly how it is, Li. I can’t keep up with this for another two, three months. It’s like he’s not even, like, fuck, like he’s not even trying, y’know? We’re building the foundation of a pages-long paper. This isn’t some finals essay he can bullshit in three hours.” 

You groan as Lia pulls away from you, whirling you around to face her. “It’ll be fine, I swear to you. I’ll help out, anytime you need it. I promise. If I start hating Daniel, I’ll even pretend like I’m in love with him. Head over heels.” You let yourself laugh and pull out your phone as you two begin to walk towards your dorm.

She tsks. “We’re gonna have a thing tonight, right? Like, a lab rat session?”

You nod, squinting over your calendar app. “Yeah, at around 5:30 to 6. It’ll be quick, but Mark and I are gonna have to stay behind to divide the work for the general paper and then start. Hopefully we can get some outlining done by tonight…so don’t wait up,” you sigh. She smiles apologetically, pinching your waist affectionately. 

“Daniel and I will totally help you. He’s a Mark anti now. I told him about the party outburst thing.” You had sent her a slew of texts that night, and like every other story you had told (save for the most private ones), Daniel had caught wind of it. You’re half sure he was capable of blackmailing you at that point. “Good,” you shoot back, “I’m going to need all the anti-Mark force I can get.”

“Why?” You both turn to see Mark standing idly behind you. There’s a beat, and then: “You look like an inane stalker,” you retort, turning to continue walking. Lia follows suit—with the two of you, the vibe of the atmosphere would always come easy. If one was mad, the other would act mad, too. 

“Hey,” Mark repeats, falling into step beside you, “why do you need an anti-Mark force? Tell me.” At this point, your nerves are on fire and your blood is boiling, and you’re beginning to envision beating him up on the quad. “Mark, it’s been great, but we’re going to our dorm, and in case you don’t want to catch a restraining order, I suggest you get off at your floor instead of following us like a creep,” you say sweetly, quickening your steps until he’s far behind you, smiling. Fucking asshole. 

“I’ll see ya this evening, then,” he teases, and you grumble under your breath.

—

It’s 5:45 when Lia and Daniel leave the library—fifteen minutes early. You and Mark leave ten minutes later, hours before you were supposed to complete your task. You’re fuming, and for once, Mark has the decency to read the room and feel remorse. 

The evening had started off well enough, though—Lia and Daniel had showed up, did their thing, described what was happening, and you and Mark had noted it down. And then, well. Mark spilled water all over your planner, which, in hindsight, was definitely unintentional, but in the spur of the moment, you could do nothing but your natural—everybody’s natural—response to getting something precious ruined. You began to cry. “What the fuck,” you sniffled, “is wrong with you?!” You had shaken the majority of water off your planner, but any and all dates had been smudged and bled, and you couldn’t bring yourself to forgive him. “I know I called you annoying, but this is too far,” you had said, watching his face go from teasing to genuinely sorry. “Dude, it was accidenta—” 

“I don’t give a fuck—!” You quickly cut yourself off and wipe your tears when you see a young library assistant heading towards your table. Everybody composes themselves—Lia and Daniel straighten out the things on the surface and Mark sits up straight. “Hey,” he says. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but two students already came in with a noise complaint. We’re gonna have to ask you to,” he makes a gesture, “leave for now and come back tomorrow. Also, the puddle on the table…yeah. I’m really sorry.” He leaves, as if to make sure you have no other choice but to just go, and you slump back onto your chair in exhaustion. 

“You two can go ahead,” you hear Mark say, “I’m really sorry about this. We’ll clean up and apologize.” Faintly, you hear them get up, and you feel Lia’s hand squeeze yours as she promises a text and food later. You let your eyes remain shut, drinking in the quiet, trying to calm your inner turmoil.

Ten minutes later, when you’re out in the cold November air, Mark finally speaks. You had cleaned up and collected your things in silence. “I’m really sorry,” he says, “it was an accident, for real. I know I tease a lot, but, uh, I’m being serious. I would never have done that on purpose. I see you write shit on that thing a lot, so…I know how much you like it. Treasure it…? I don’t—whatever it is, I’m really sorry. Like, really. T’was an accident. If you need me to pay for it…” You shake your head softly, hugging your damp planner closer to your sweater-clad chest. “It’s okay. Thanks, anyway. For helping. I’ll email you what you have to do. Bye,” you turn and begin walking in the direction of your dorm. The sun is beginning to set, golden orange hues casting a vast array of colors onto the landscape of the city. You sigh softly, heart heavy with annoyance and exhaustion, and speed up before you start having a mini-breakdown.

—

Stage 1: Denial|

Your cursor blinks back at you as you finish typing in your outline for the introduction. It’s early into November, but already, you’ve had to shut your window to shielf yourself from the biting breeze outside. Across you, Lia applies mascara and talks to you. “What are you up to?” she asks, face contorted. 

“This godforsaken paper,” you mumble back, “just finished the introduction outline. I’m trying to give a loose definition for each gradual ‘stage.’” Shoving your Macbook off your lap, you get up to stretch. “Which I’ll probably find on Google Scholar, honestly. If you had to give me a definition—what’s denial?” 

She hums contemplatively, wand on lash, and then pipes up. “I think it’s just a stage where you can’t face the fact that you’re interested in that person. Like, why them? With Daniel, he wasn’t really my type. So the whole denial was denying I liked him, because…well, yeah. But I think it differs. Some people deny it because they’re shy, or ashamed, or weirded out that they even like them.”

You’ve had your fair share of crushes before, and sure enough, you had denied them all. But that was high school—college, though, had only brought short-lived flings and one night stands; you were an overachiever, much too committed to your own prosperity to pay mind to anybody else for too long. (Except Lia.) So you hadn’t really experienced the whole boyfriend-in-university thing—not that you particularly wanted to, but you were just human; you were curious. Lia had gotten it, and it looked wonderful. 

Speaking of—“So, a week without meeting Mark in person, huh? How is that going for you?” You scoff lightly, shaking your head as you pull your hair into a bun. “It’s going just fine. Dandy, actually. We work from our dorms and you and Daniel just update us. It’s a fine arrangement that I regret was not formulated sooner.” Lia nods in understanding, and you watch her pull on a top, mutter I’m out and head outside. For the fifth time this week, you’re alone in the dorm, with nothing but your Alexa playing SZA and your laptop. You pull it onto your lap again, staring at the boldface letters you had typed minutes prior: denial. You had no firsthand experience of being mature and going through denial; not in that way, anyway. You found it stupid that people even denied when it would be less painful to just admit interest.

You blow a raspberry as you research studies related to the term, bored out of your mind.

—

Two days later, you meet Mark again. 

You’d also had the pleasure of, for a minute or two, meeting a friend of his, Donghyuck Lee from Economics. He’s loud and amusing and, from your viewpoint, undeserving of somebody as boring as Mark. (That’s from a minute-long intercation.) 

At Lia’s insistence (and likely Daniel’s, too), you two met up to properly work and collaborate. In fear of being kicked out again, the four of you had chosen to meet somewhere else—a cafe off-campus affectionately named something along the lines of Saltwater Coffee. Naturally, after Donghyuck leaves, you find yourself sitting idly (awkwardly) beside Mark. “They won’t be long,” he says suddenly, “er, Daniel just texted me. They’re near.” You nod, pursing your lips, eyes trained onto your laptop. “We’re almost done formulating the denial stage and we can start outlining anger and bargaining. This’ll take about a week more—maybe mid to late November? Uh, I know it seems justifiable to slack off with the holidays,” you say, “but I really want us to finish this early. The due date’s in mid-February, so we can pass this on the 14th.” You turn to face him. “Get it? ‘Cause it’s Valentine’s Day.”

He nods. “Okay. No slacking. I get it. The Valentine’s is smart, too.” You nod back in silent understanding, turning back to type frantically into your keyboard. 

You hear the door jingle and Lia’s small “hey, guys”, so you look up and offer a smile. “I’m gonna go order everyone some coffee,” Mark says beside you, getting up and shuffling over to the counter. Daniel joins him, and Lia takes a seat across you, her smile knowing and apologetic. “Everything okay?” You blow a raspberry, but smile, anyway. “It’s not so bad. It could be better, but no more banter, just very annoyed auras…? You get it. It’s just been tough trying to divert my focus to this and ignore all the annoyance I feel.”

“Totally, I get that,” she says, “but all the same, I’m glad he’s matured a little bit and lessened all the ribbing.” You smile at that, agreeing, and then the conversation spirals into one about both of your days—“Professor Callahan totally pops a stiffy over Professor Michaelson”, “Daniel tells me Joshua cheated. Yes, on Jess!”, “Mia dropped out the other day and nobody knows why, hope she’s okay”—before Daniel and Mark return, coffee cups in hand. Mark places one next to you, and profusely, you look up at him, who’s just about to sit. 

“Thanks, but I don’t drink brewed coff—”

“It’s a caramel latte, the only thing you drink. Heard you say that to Lia once.” He takes a seat and pulls his laptop open. 

You stare at him, taking the cup and bringing it to your lips. Sure enough, it’s caramel—thick, and foamy, and sweet. You look up at him again, but he’s busy on Google Scholar, perusing through journals and studies. You shake your head before turning to Lia, who’s already looking at you, expression mirroring yours. 

Sweet, she mouths, but you purse your lips and choose not to acknowledge it. “Thanks,” you say quietly, and he hums to say you’re welcome. 

Your eyes flicker to him. He’s wearing a knitted sweater, but he’s pulled it up to his elbows. He’s typing quickly, and he can use all his fingers, too (you fail miserably at that), and his brows are furrowed as if he’s stressed, or in a hurry. You’ve never really noticed this much of Mark before. It’s probably, you think absently, because you’re confused. Puzzled at the gesture that you didn’t expect—at all.

After an hour, he angles his laptop to yours. “Nailed the intro. High five?” You open the Google doc on your own browser, and sure enough, the word count has increased monumentally. You can’t deny his knack for writing. “There are a few discrepancies in grammar,” you say instead. “But…okay. This is good.” You ignore his hand, in mid-air, and continue researching. 

Lia holds in a giggle, but turns back to Daniel, who, after fifteen minutes, turns to you and Mark. “Lia and I are heading out, guys,” he says, and Lia quickly tacks on. “Hey, if you need me to stay, I can,” she says quickly, but you smile and shake your head. 

“This might take a while. Go ahead. See ya at the dorm, Li. Bye, Daniel.” Mark bids his farewells, too, and they leave you alone in the cafe. It’s nearing a three hour crunch when he abruptly gets up to stretch, a low grunt leaving his lips. “I’m exhausted,” he sighs, “but at least we’re nearly done with this whole denial thing.”

“We’re actually only just starting,” you state, “this is going to go through a lot of editing and proofreading.” 

He chuckles and walks back to the counter to order something, and you shut your laptop to rest your eyes. Your glasses rest uncomfortably on the bridge of your nose as you breathe deeply. You lose track of time, and you open your eyes ten minutes later, fumbling to get up properly. There’s a panini beside your laptop, wrapped neatly in a tissue and laid on a plate. Mark’s is empty, save for crumbs, and he says nothing. 

“Get up,” he remarks teasingly after a while, and you groan in exhaustion. “I am, I’m up,” you mutter, straightening your back and flexing your neck. Inwardly, you wonder if you should thank him for the panini that is obviously yours that you obviously did not buy for yourself. 

Then Mark’s hand stretches out to take the panini, and he takes a bite. “Sorry,” he says, “I had to put my second sandwich in your space. This table’s a little small.” You hum back in acknowledgement, nodding once. “It’s, uh…all good,” you respond, voice small as you type into your laptop. Internally, your body fills slowly with humiliation and confusion, but you stay quiet, and that’s how the rest of the night goes: a silent, steady beat of keyboard clicking and the occasional question. 

No banter, no nothing—it’s a godsend, yes, it is, but you can’t help but miss the abrasive, playful conversations the two of you had built up over the previous several weeks. But really—had you truly assumed he had bought you a panini? As if a coffee wasn’t enough? You felt at odds with yourself for even expecting such a gesture from the guy whose main habit was to annoy you to the ends of the Earth.

“It’s late,” he says, as if he’s reading your mind and knowing you’re absolutely mortified inside. “Let’s head home.” You nod, deeming the night’s work satisfactory—maybe even beyond, considering the amount of effort you both put into the output. You shove your laptop and charger into your bag and pocket your phone, lingering awkwardly and waiting for Mark to finish packing up. He’s particular with it—he has little sections in his backpack for the wires and chargers, and even his AirPods, and his laptop. 

“Very organized,” you find yourself commenting offhandedly, your tone taking on a teasing edge. He glares playfully back at you. 

“Sorry I don’t want my wires to break,” he shoots back, eyeing your flimsy tote bag, “unlike some people.” You roll your eyes and, against your strongest wills, a smile appears on your lips, albeit a small one. His eyes linger on your smile for a little bit before he clears his throat and zips up his knapsack. “Let’s, er, go. Thank Jesus we’re in the same building.” When you exit, the air bites at you despite the jacket covering your body, and you quicken your pace. “It’s cold as hell.”

“Ironic,” Mark says. You hide a smile.

—

That’s what November brings you—the next week and a half are composed of just slowly learning to get used to working with Mark again and going home late into the night, crunching to the max. 

Your paper begins to take on more and more structure, and two out of the six days you’ve met, Mark has set down a caramel latte for you to arrive to. The acoustic music slowly phases into holiday guitar, and the coat rack at the entrance is weighed down more and more as the days pass, preparing to welcome December. 

You and Mark work silently, save for the rare banter and eyeroll, and very gradually, the annoyance that had bubbled up within seconds before had sank down. You’re not friends, per se—it’s just that the frustration and exasperation had lessened considerably. 

You were civil. That’s it. You won’t try to deny that you’ve been thinking about this a little too much—about what your “friendship” had become with Mark. You hadn’t snapped at him in days, and he hadn’t tugged at your ballpen in even longer. It wasn’t that you had cowered him into silence by crying over your planner—it may have instigated it, but his behavior was…different. 

More calm, more sure. Less childish. He would still tease you, but not as much. It’s nearing mid-November now, and you’ve successfully done much of your introduction and denial, needing less and less of Lia and Daniel’s presence. (Which you’re sure they’re grateful for.) But being left alone with Mark isn’t as bad as you once thought—

“Hello. Earth to you,” you distantly hear, and you whip your head in the direction of the voice as you pace back to your dorm building. Mark stares blankly back at you. “What,” you mumble back. He quirks a brow before continuing. “I was saying, I think I need to take a rain check tomorrow. The, uh”—he clears his throat—“um, yeah.”

You eye him. “Okay…?”

He nods profusely, “Yeah, all good.” The walk continues in silence, the sun finally setting down behind the Manhattan skyline beyond you and the breeze taking on a chillier temperature. You sigh softly, fatigue overtaking you as you stare at the building nearing you. “If you take a rain check, just make sure you write it within the day or after,” you say, half-sternly and half-tiredly. He mumbles a “got it” and you both jog up the steps to the lobby, where you run into, by some weird twist of the day, a small group of anti-abortion protesters.

“Jesus Christ,” Mark mutters under his breath. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.” You rub the bridge of your nose in your fingers, choosing to tune them out and instead maneuver your way through the door. Before you can even take a step, though, they’re all up in your face with pamphlets and brochures and a guitar. “Excuse me,” you grunt, trying to gently push them aside, but they only come on stronger. “A child is a child,” they say. “If you know anybody who’s—”

“Is this your new initiative? Preying on college students on school grounds, unaccounted for?” Mark asks from behind you. You turn to find he’s filming and stifle a laugh. “I’m surprised nobody’s kicked you out. Won’t be long, now,” he adds with a smile. 

You tune out nearly everything else—it’s really just them telling Mark to stop recording and him retorting with equally snarky phrases. It’s not until maybe after a solid two minutes of back and forth that one of them, a weird middle-aged woman, pulls out a burgundy gummy bear from a bag and pushes it into Mark’s camera. He takes it from her and examines it, puzzled. “That,” she says matter-of-factly, “is the approximate size of a fetus. It’s big. It’s sentient, alive. What, I beg of you, what would you do?”

Mark squints at it. Then he pops it into his mouth, takes your hand, and runs straight to the elevator across the floor. 

“There’s a bunch of anti-abortion people outside, it’s not cool!” He hollers to the receptionist before the doors close with a damning click. 

There’s a beat, and then.

Both of you are doubling over in laughter. “Why the hell would y—why would you do that?! You’re insane!” The response is: “Because they’re not cool! They’re fuckin’ annoying! So I ate their baby!” There are tears in your eyes, your laughter so hard it’s nearing silent—Mark’s, though, is loud and annoying sounding, though you seem to not mind so much. The laughter subsides when the ding of your floor sounds and you straighten yourself up. Getting into a different position reminds you of the very there, very obvious brushing of your hand against Mark’s, which he’d taken just moments earlier, post-baby eating.

You freeze and jerk your hand away. “I’ll, um, go now,” you say, “I’ll see you tomorr—no, the day after.” Against your wills, you meet his eyes, and you’re surprised to find that he’s already looking at you, an unreadable expression on his face. “Okay,” he says, his eyes not leaving yours. Your heart beats faster at a very small increment, but you head out and semi-run to your room, swinging it open and leaning against it. 

You look up to find Lia and Daniel engaged in a heated Monopoly match. You make no noise, mind (and heart, but you can’t tell why) racing fast. You watch them play for a second before they both look up slowly.

“You’re smiling like a goddamn idiot,” Daniel says. Your face falls immediately. “I’m, um, no I’m not,” you say casually, pacing over to your bed and flopping onto it. Lia laughs loudly. 

“That sounded so freaked. Like we’re your mom and you just brought weed home kind of freaked.” Pause. 

“Are you hiding something from me?” She rises from her spot to look at you, head in pillow and all, and you let out a muffled “no!”, probably too defensive for your own good. 

It’s Daniel’s turn to snort. You look up and glare at him, “You’re getting too comfortable for your own good. You need to humble yourself, Daniel. What’s it again? Oh yeah, Yeonjun, right?” He rolls his eyes at the use of his Korean name and turns back to the Monopoly board.

Lia flops atop you, eliciting a grunt from your lips. “Are you okay? Did somebody flirt with you? Did Mark finally fuck off and leave you alone properly?” 

At the mention of Mark, your heart races—you will it to stop, and audibly groan in the process. “What is it, you bitch?” Lia asks, tugging on a section of your hair. “It’s nothing, Li! Nothing, I promise.” She glares at you before walking to Daniel and covering his ears. Instantly, he begins to let out a chorus of Lalala, and deeming the environment safe enough, you let it slip.

“Mark and I held hands. But it—”

“You what?!”

“It really, really doesn’t mean anyth—”

“How can that not mean anything? It’s hand holdi—”

“If you would listen to the backstory you’d know!” She pauses, and then uncovers Daniel’s ears and knees him. 

“Okay, get out. Monopoly postponed, Jun,” she says, pushing him out insistently. He barely collects his phone and keys before he’s out, but you swoon silently when you catch him pressing a short goodbye kiss to her forehead before actually leaving. She turns immediately, fire and curiosity awfully evident in her face. 

She nears you. “Explain.” 

And that’s what sparks the story of the weird protesters, Mark’s power move, and the unintentional hand hold that lasted a few moments too long. She nods the entire time, laughing, and then her face straightens out again. You can almost hear the gears in her head turning as she analyzes the situation, and then she nods once. 

“Okay. Perfectly justifiable to freak out.” Another pause. “But why were you smiling?” You stare blankly back at her, head working impossibly quick to formulate a reply. You’ve taken too long now, judging by the way Lia is looking at you with the most shit-eating grin on her fucking face. You groan.

“You like him, you bitch!” 

You shake your head, facing her. “I don’t, dude. Trust me. I just…it was a fun experience, so naturally I’d be laughing. And smiling. But I’m just not interested in Mark! I’m not,” you fumble, being completely honest. 

You didn’t—not even if you looked in the mirror and asked yourself. But you couldn’t deny the feelings you felt in the ten seconds from the elevator to your room, your heart racing and your fist curling and uncurling. When you look at Lia again, she’s still smiling, flushed. “You like him,” she says into her palm, which she’s slapped over her mouth in disbelief. You stare back at her, your expression baffled. “If I did,” you begin, getting up to discard your shirt, “I’d have told you by now. It’s really not that big of a deal unless you make it out to be.”

After that, you and Mark spend nearly three weeks walking on eggshells around each other. While conversations are no longer avoided, and you could talk without getting exasperated or too embarrassed, finger brushes are frequent, and eye contact only makes you extremely nervous. You had worked until the second stage—anger—already, but you’d still been polishing the denial and introduction. Considering November wasn’t over and the paper was due February, you figured you were moving at an okay pace. Besides, a lot of your friends hadn’t even begun.

—

There are two instances where you rush home, mortified beyond belief.

The first when when you struck up a conversation with the cute, Australian barista. Scrawled in big penmanship on his name tag is Chan. You had brought up, in passing, how often you’re at the cafe and how you probably deserve a free drink. He replied with a low hum, and you dialed down your flirty tone, slightly embarrassed. But not really. You’ve rejected plenty of people before. It’s when you’re already paying for your drink that he replied, handing you your (for a change) iced matcha with a small grin. 

“I’d have flirted with you weeks ago if you didn’t have your boyfriend with you all the time. He’s always buying you your drinks.” You spluttered for a good second, staring at him incredulously. “He’s not my boyfriend,” you finally said. 

He had shrugged, nonchalant. “He sure as hell looks at you a lot for someone you’re not dating. And you do it just as much, if not more. I’m observant, by the way. Not a stalker.” You had taken your cup and paced over to the other end of the cafe, sat across Mark, cheeks heated.

He looked up, brow raised. You shook your head.

The second time was when Donghyuck graced you both with his presence. You quickly found out that he was a magnetic presence and you both shared similar interests. The energy you both created was both amusing and annoying to Mark. 

Although you kept quiet mostly, you enabled Donghyuck’s incessant teasing, which annoyed Mark to the ends of the Earth. “You’re a dork. Isn’t he?” You look up and nod with a smile. Mark rolls his eyes, sending Donghyuck into a laughing frenzy. Mark just grunts and continues typing.

Hyuck had made a joke about how two Physics textbooks discussed why the sad man named Mark owns two of them and didn’t have a life, and you laughed. 

You didn’t usually laugh, not around Mark, at least, since it was safe to say you didn’t have any source of entertainment in such a boring guy. But you laughed at the witty joke, and Donghyuck, without thinking much, had said in passing: “Mark, I guess you’re right about everything about her being pretty.”

Mark said nothing, typing. You said nothing. Nobody said anything, not even a sly Donghyuck or, from the counter, an even slyer Chan.

—

When you see Mark next, it’s three days later, and it’s, for the second time, in Johnny’s apartment. 

Lia had asked if you wanted to tag along, and you found no harm in going. (“You’re going because Mark is” becomes Lia’s favorite phrase of the night, so much it’s spread to Daniel, who you’d succumbed to and spilled everything to hours prior.) The walk there has something boiling low in your gut and you’re quiet, in fear you might end up vomiting in nerves or saying something stupid. Lia teases you, but her hand clasping yours reassures you, and you squeeze it tightly. 

You get there late—it’s past 1AM, and you have a sense of deja vu walking into the cramped space. It’s fuller this time—people are creeping into the bedrooms to smoke in private or do some other things, but suffice to say it’s crowded as fuck.

“Want a drink?” Lia hollers, and you nod over the music. Johnny’s neighbor is another upperclassman named Doyoung, though he’s mainly referred to as Doie by just about everybody around him.

You’ve seen his girlfriend call him bunny a few times, though you’ve long desired to repress that memory. 

Judging by the fact that you can faintly hear a different song from the next room, the party has probably extended to Doyoung’s. There’s quite a gathering this week—the rich freshman who you’d befriended once before, Chenle, and his horde of friends are here; from Lia, who hands you a drink, you learn that Kun and Sicheng, two incredibly attractive juniors, are here, too—in Doie’s, though. The party only intensifies, which is hard, because Johnny’s apartment is very tiny.

Eventually, you find yourself in the bathroom, smoking a joint you’d grabbed out of the clammy hands of a tipsy Chenle and kicking a couple out under the guise that you’re Johnny’s cousin. Chenle had protested but eventually given in, pulling a new one out of his pocket.

The bathroom light is white and harsh, but there’s a very funky lamp at the corner. From your place inside the dry (and thankfully clean…looking) bathtub, you eye it. It’s a tall one in the shape of a glass of margarita. 

You heave yourself up and find the switch, and then when it’s on, you giggle at the green light emitting from it. You have absolutely no idea why Johnny, Jaehyun, or their roommate Jungwoo (3J, as some call them) have a decorative, margarita-shaped green lamp, and in their bathroom nonetheless, but you shut off the main light and return to smoking your blunt. Deciding your ass aches far too much, you lean against the tile wall and cherish the smoke.

The door opens abruptly, and you curse, pushing it back closed. 

“I have explosive diarrhea,” you say robotically, using the same excuse you did for the previous three couples that showed up. 

From the other side, you hear a shrill laugh and sound of confusion. When you peer over the other side and see Mark, you groan and laugh. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I saw you come in. Like, twenty minutes ago.”

“I’m cherishing the party privately.”

Mark ushers himself into the dark space and shuts the door. He makes a show of locking it, as if to show you it’s possible to do so. The sound of it locking sends a wave of nerves up your spine. 

“I didn’t lock it in case a medical emergency happens and they have to rush inside.” 

Mark quirks his brow. “I doubt they would think to go inside the restroom and not panic and call 911, you know.” 

You shrug in indifference and take another drag, reluctantly offering it to him.

He takes it, and you pause for a second to observe him. His hair, dark, and which usually covers his entire forehead like a broom or at least parts in the middle slightly, is now styled differently. 

He’s in a fitting black shirt and blue jeans, and, upon your closer inspection, silver rings adorn his fingers. You will yourself to look down. It’s dark. “What’s that you’re holding?” You ask instead, trying not to extend your stare at his shoulders.

“Your puffer coat,” he says, tossing it to you. “Left it last time.”

“That time when you annoyed the shit out of me, right,” you retort.

“Yes, exactly that time. That was ages ago. Weeks ago. Look at us now.”

“Us now—what, still disliking each other?”

He laughs humorlessly, but doesn’t entertain you further. He turns to the lamp instead. “Do you know I was there when they moved this in,” he begins, gesturing to it, “Jae got it at some weird, awful flea market, and he had to buy some extra wiring to fix it or whatever. I was doing Physics homework. It was at the start of this school year. And I bet you didn’t know…” he bends down and reaches to the base of the lamp, pressing a button, “that it changes color.”

The room is bathed in red now, and you swallow. “Interesting,” you manage to say, despite the racing in your head. “Very,” he responds, taking a step closer to you. You gaze up at him. He’s tall. You breathe softly. You nod in agreement. You don’t know what to do. You want to punch him and kiss him and leave all at once. 

You want to kiss him, oh God, you want to kiss him.

“Oh God,” you say softly, out loud. Oh fuck. Too much weed?

He inches closer, leaving the blunt on the rim of the sink. ���Why?” He smiles a little and you smile back, nervous. He’s so close now, and he smells so good—like cologne and laundry and weed. You shake your head. “Nothing,” you mumble back.

He’s even closer now, eyes boring into yours. You adjust your strap, a nervous habit. He takes your hand and does it for you. “I like this song,” he says casually, like he’s not playing with the strap of your dress. “Do you know what it’s called?” It’s vaguely familiar to you, but you shake your head. 

“It’s Jhene Aiko,” he replies, and you nod. You gravitate closer.

You stare at him. He stares back. “I’m high,” you say. You giggle. “I had a brownie and that blunt.”

“That’s a lot,” he says. “Don’t finish the blunt, ‘kay?” You nod back, and giggle again. In two seconds, your nervous mechanism has kicked in and you’re laughing like a psycho. “I’m high,” you repeat, and then he kisses you, effectively sobering you up.

Huh. He kisses you, effectively sobering you up. He kisses you.

You kiss back, shocked and relieved, deepening it, trying to get as much of him as possible. His hands are big and wide and warm, traveling all over you. You want him. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer, lips molding against yours deliriously. 

“Want you,” you say when his hands play with the hem of your dress, teetering closer and closer to your core. “I said, I want you,” you whine, “now.” Mark only laughs, his hands under your dress and playing with the lace waistband of your underwear. 

“I like how this feels,” he mumbles. “Wanna take a look.” You whimper, hiking your leg up and nodding. “Please, just…touch me,” you say breathlessly. “Please.”

“I will,” he says, voice calm. “You’re being good.” You can’t deny the noise you make at the praise, breathy and loud. You pull him in again, drunk for more, your hands raking through his hair. It’s dark, the both of you basking in the small red light. Mark hikes your dress up, inching it higher, slowly, until he sees the hem of your white lace underwear. He grunts and pulls at it. “I love this,” he says. “So fuckin’, Jesus.” 

You giggle against the smile. He toys with your panties for a bit before finally pulling them down, watching them sink to your ankles. “Hot,” he jokes, and you laugh in disbelief. “Why would you even be joking abou—”

“Mark! Let’s go, it’s 2:30!” Donghyuck’s voice is just as loud and clear as it would be if you weren’t separated by a door. Jolted, you and Mark instinctively break apart and stare at the rattling door. “Maaaark,” he sing-songs, knocking to a beat. You stare at Mark, waiting for him to respond.

“I have explosive diarrhea,” he says. You stifle a guffaw, pulling your panties up.

He pouts, tapping your ass. “Bullshit,” Donghyuck says from outside. “I’m cooomin’ in!”

In the span of a minute, where you realize Donghyuck is not bluffing and in fact has a stolen bathroom key from Jungwoo’s bedside drawer, you manage to shove yourself into the bathtub and hide yourself with the curtain. Mark switches the light back on, much to both of your disappointment, and pretends to smoke the blunt you’d left on the sink fifteen minutes ago. Ergo: pre-kiss.

You find your phone on the bathtub floor and grip it, turning the brightness down. You have a plethora of messages and voicemails from Lia, five calls from Daniel, and an interesting iMessage of Donghyuck’s red, weed-induced eyes from an unknown number. It could be anybody, and that scares you.

The texts are all frantic, and they’re the last things that bring you out of your high and back to reality. Where are u, who u with?, u getting railed??!, Have you seen mark?

“Hyuck, if I actually did have a shitstorm coming out of my ass, you’d be so sorry for breaking in,” you hear Mark say. You sink lower into the bathtub, awaiting Donghyuck’s voice. “You were the one who suggested we go at 2:30, and you’ve been smoking weed for the longest time, dipshit,” he says, “now let’s go. I haven’t seen your Psych girl all night, so you can cry about it at home.” You faintly detect Mark protesting and then, “Let me just freshen up! Just go ahead.”

Reluctantly, you peek out and find Mark alone. You get up and fix your dress.

You’re sober now. The red lights are gone. It’s just you and Mark, plain and simple. Your feelings haven’t gone away, though. You’re fucking fucked. You want him to fuck you. Oh, fuck.

“Go,” you say instead, spluttering. “And I’ll see you. Tuesday.”

You leave first despite yourself, not turning around for even a split second, finding a worried (and then relieved) Lia and taking five consecutive tequila shots to down the nerves and denial bubbling in your system. She raises a brow, but you refuse to even meet her eyes, head and heart pounding impossibly fast. You want to kiss him again. So, so bad. But what the fuck did you just let happen?

—

Stage 2: Anger|

Lia hadn’t pressed, and you were nervous, but it was getting easy to diverge the details of what happened during Johnny’s party. You had instead opted to work alone, too much of a coward to even see Mark’s face. If you were being completely honest with yourself, you feared you might just kiss him if you ever saw him. So you spent days at class working, and then at your dorm working, adjusting your route to avoid, as much as possible, Mark or Hyuck’s buildings and that godforsaken cafe. You did text Mark, though, and the exchanges were brief, not even a “thank you” or “good morning” preceding them. It was awful.

Working alone forced you into a heavy load of retrospection. You would think deeply, like how you are now, spiraling into a series of questions where you studied the play-by-play of what happened in the bathroom, up against the wall. You liked it. A lot. But you couldn’t. You wouldn’t let yourself. Why it even happened…God. You mentally berated yourself for giving into it. Didn’t you hate him? Or at least dislike him? Didn’t you take pleasure in scolding him or fighting with him?

“You’re freaking me out,” Lia says from her bed. She’s been staring at you. “You’ve been lying on your bed staring at the ceiling for twenty straight minutes.” She walks over to you, flopping next to you, her arms winding around your body. “You can tell me anything.”

“I know,” you say, nervous. You gulp.

“Okay. If you’re n—”

“Mark and I kissed.”

She sits up and turns to look at you.

“Made out, more like. We were going to fuck if we didn’t get interrupted.” You’re mortified, refusing to meet her gaze. When you look up, her face is even, but you know she’s bubbling over with giddiness inside. “That is so fucking great, dude,” she replies. “Why are you so embarrassed?”

“Because it’s Mark,” you whine. “He’s not…I don’t know.”

She lies back down. “You’re overthinking this.” You laugh, poking her waist. “I know, but I just…I feel like he might not like me much anymore.” You recount the way you left him hanging, despite the lack of awkward air and the potential to talk and become something. She tsks but justifies it, because she’s so good at that, being a mediator, and you continue with your day quietly. 

Your mind is always on it, though, his hands and his lips, and you’ve scoured Spotify for the song playing that he had commented on.

It’s called Pussy Fairy. You cannot make it up. It’s a weird title, but the song is heavenly, and you can’t deny when it’s full blast on your AirPods and your hand is creeping closer and closer there, trying desperately to replicate what you felt in that moment. When you’re not sated, ashamed and sighing, you resort to working on your paper. There are moments where both you and Mark are working at the same time, and you hate yourself for getting all flustered when it happens. 

—

It’s a Tuesday, in the early afternoon, when you’re out of class and cleaning out the little litter in your dorm, repasting whatever decorations fell off, et cetera. You have the time, anyway, and it wouldn’t hurt to fix the place up a bit. You’re halfway into re-stringing Lia’s fairy lights when someone knocks on the door, jolting you. You curse under your breath, hopping off her bed to swing the door open and reveal—

“What is up?!” Donghyuck grins back at you. His hand is raised in a high-five invitation, which you hesitantly reciprocate. “Mark tells me you’re meeting today, and that I should come remind you, since it seems like you forgot. He says you haven’t texted all day. Since I was on this floor—do you know Jeno Lee? Do you know it’s so amusing how Mark, Jeno, and I all have the same surname? Anyway. I was here on your floor to remind Jeno about an Econ presentation, and Mark texts me and goes, if you’re with Jeno, then remind you—you as in you, you—to come meet me and work.” 

He talks so goddamn fast. “You talk so goddamn fast.”

He just guffaws, high-fiving you again. “Well, you get my point, right? Meet Mark at the cafe and work is all he said to do. If you wanna.” You nod slowly, absorbing his words. “Tell him I’ll be a little late,” you say simply, and as you’re about to shut the door, he talks again, his voice quieter this time. “I know you were hiding behind the curtain.”

You pull the door open again, so fast a minuscule gust of wind washes over both of your faces. “You’re kidding,” you say, “you’re kidding.” You stare at each other for a second before his solem features break into a smile. “I am. Mark spilled everything to me, so I decided to trick you.” Relief and annoyance break over your system as you swat Donghyuck’s shoulder. “You’re a dick,” you spit. “You’re bringing a bad image to Econ majors.”

He merely laughs and closes the door himself, light brown hair fluffing with the severity of his laugh (cackle.) Slightly annoyed, you drag yourself to get dressed, dread building up in your stomach at the prospect of seeing Mark again. Not when your mind conjures up what happened everytime you just see his name. Or the word mark. You’ve been out of it since it happened, not even responding to your usual heated debates with the conservative Trump supporter in class. You suppose the best way to confront it is to simply confront it.

When you get there, though, it’s clear that confrontation would not be an option. Immediately, when you sit, the air shifts into something oddly familiar—the atmosphere between the two of you when you first got partnered up. Except now, Mark won’t even give you a pinch of attention, or banter, instead typing his questions into the document to avoid verbal conversation. (He is a fucking petty bitch, you’ll give him that.)

You stroll over to the counter, pout set on your lips. “Hello,” Chan says politely, and you just smile half-heartedly. “Lover’s quarrel?” He teases, and you roll your eyes. “He’s ignoring me,” you respond, watching him make you a latte. “And we’re not dating. We never were.”

“Mm, right,” he says, finishing and setting your drink in front of you. You laugh a little, taking it. “No. We weren’t. But I’ll update you.”

When you return, Mark’s looking at you, quiet as ever. You break his gaze and continue working, working and working until the sun sets, nestled deep behind the horizon. When you look up again, the sky is already dark, city lights providing solace to the place. You look at Mark quizzically, as if to ask him what time you should both leave, but he just shrugs. “Any time,” he states plainly, and huffing, you get up.

“I’ll go right ahead then,” you say, trying your best to sound annoyed and get your message across. He says nothing, watching you pack up your stuff and sling your bag over your shoulder, and then eventually, leave.

Daniel is the first to see you in your raged, annoyed state—you meet him in the elevator of the lobby, your blood boiling and your fists balled. Knowing you’re headed to the same floor, he presses the button, ruffles his hair, and then lets the silence take over. And then, “What’s going on?” You breathe deeply, turning to him with a tired look on your face. “Mark’s going on,” you mumble, “he was ignoring me the entire time. And to think he was the one who requested my presence! It makes no sense. Why would he ignore me when we can just talk about it?”

“About what?”

It suddenly occurs to you that Daniel knows about your weird feelings for Mark, but not how they culminated. You splutter. “Um, about us. Everything.” Daniel looks amused, but the doors open, and you thank them for the temporary exit from the topic. He stops you right outside, though, and pulls out two ticket, card-looking things. “Wait, um. Listen, Lia and I are going to reach our seven-month…anniversary, I guess, of, y’know, being a thing. I know it seems really small, but I want to give her a little something out of appreciation, so I got us a room at this ski lodge outside the city.”

“That’s so sweet,” you say honestly, “but I must admit, it comes on sort of stalker-y. Like you’re whisking her off out of the city.”

He beams even louder. “That’s why you’re coming. With Mark!”

You gape back at him. “Did you miss the whole I-hate-him thing that happened in there?” You jab your finger towards the closed elevator doors, disbelief written across your face. He laughs. “Sometimes you can’t keep hiding behind”—he begins walking to your room, and you follow suit—“emotions, like anger. When I liked Lia, there was a point where I was just pretending to alienate her so I wouldn’t have to face that I was starting to love her. Like her. And you know, she did it right back.” 

“Oh, quit it,” you scoff, insistent. “You’re lecturing me like you’ve been married a decade.”

“That’s what I want,” he says, and you gag. “The first step to that would be ski lodge trip, so you’re coming!”

You’re in front of your room now, and you pinch his wrist as he reaches for the handle, gaining his full attention. “I’ll gladly go,” you whisper, “if Mark’s out.” Daniel just laughs, shaking his head. “No, no. An overnight trip would delay your paper severely. Plus, they have two beds per room.”

“We’ll be staying in the same roo—hey, Li,” you say, quickly cutting your angry rant off when she opens the door, her face confused (to say the least.) 

“Mm, hey,” she says, ushering the two of you in. “How long were you two out there?” Daniel shrugs, ruffling his hair and then pressing a kiss on Lia’s forehead. You boo from your place on your bed, buried under your duvet. “You both suck,” you holler, “always sexing it up in a sacred space. AKA my room.” Lia just grins and jumps on top of you, drawing grunts from you both. Daniel seats himself on the floor and busies himself with his phone. “How was Mark,” she whispers into your hair, and you groan.

“Bad,” you respond, “I’m so annoyed. We’re back to square one.” She makes an apologetic noise and gets up with a sigh, adjusting the strings of her pullover and then hugging Daniel. You watch them. You want to kiss Mark again. Life sucks that way.

—

Predictably, Mark turns down the offer of the ski lodge. He’s polite about it, too, especially since he and Daniel have grown a little bit closer since the start of your project. Daniel is, by no means, a “Mark anti”, but he would participate in the ribbing sometimes. Still, he’s insistent on the trip, saying it’s the best way to welcome December and that the forecast predicts a nice, thick layer of snow. It takes a week and two coffees everyday for Mark to give in, under the condition that he buy his own room when you get there.

Which, honestly, really, you have no problem with. Really, you think to yourself as you unceremoniously shove a knitted sweater into your bag. Really. Lia, who had graciously accepted the surprise, watches you abuse your bag, shoving sweater and scarf inside like they want to murder you. “Relax,” she says after a while. You laugh, playing it off (not so) casually.

The drive up there, courtesy of Daniel and a borrowed Prius, is fun, and cramped, but still decent, considering it was just an hour long. You’re in the back with Lia, and Mark is in charge of the AUX, which, of course, comes with its own bout of jokes. You even find the heart to participate and laugh in a few, not daring to meet his eyes. But all his songs are so fucking good. Frank Ocean, Jhene Aiko, SZA, and smaller indie artists flow from the speaker under his phone. The car ride has its share of epic karaoke moments—Mark plays ABBA, and Queen, solely to make sure everybody is belting out to the high heavens.

You get there when the sky’s purple and orange and there are some skiiers scattered around, though, since it’s not the proper holiday period, not too much. You trek over to the main lodge and that’s where Daniel pays for his reservations, and he and Lia retire to their room and promise to get up for dinner. You’re, again, alone with Mark in the lobby as you both stare at each other, willing the other to get up first. He does, to buy his own room like he said he would, and you can faintly hear the exchange from your seat on their nice, fluffy couch.

“I’m sorry, sir. We’re renovating a majority of the rooms for the holidays. That’s why reservations were a prerequisite for staying here.”

Mark sighs. “Okay, right. I’m so sorry. Um”—it’s at this point that you go up next to him, polite smile on your face, ready to take the room key and fuck off—“could we just get an extra blanket, please? For one of the beds.” The receptionist gives a curt smile, handing over the keycard and nodding. “That’ll be one queen-sized warm blanket, then,” she hums, typing away. The receptionist beside her goes to the back, presumably to get the blanket. Mark nods, smiling. “For two queen-sized beds, it must be a big room for both of them to fit comfortably,” he comments offhandedly, fiddling with the card.

The receptionist chuckles. “There is only one bed, sir.”

Oh, God. “Oh, God,” you whisper. “One bed?” She nods with an eye-crinkling smile, like her words have not just rained hell upon the two people across her. “One bed and a sofa,” she corrects herself, reading the information on the computer by the desk. Not wanting to risk your last shred of sanity, you smile profusely, walking quickly towards your room which, thankfully, is on the same floor, at the end of the hall. It’s a small, quaint place that would be honest-to-God perfect if not for the fact that—

“There’s one bed,” Mark sighs, the truth clicking into place. “Daniel is a fucking shithead.” You drop your bag onto the carpeted floor, surveying the room with a scrutinizing gaze. It’s sizable—a bed, a couch, a window. There’s a small wooden desk that looks like its legs can barely hold its weight, and then another door, leading to the bathroom. It’s not bad at all. But you’re exhausted, the sun’s long gone, and your resolve is shredding away as the seconds tick by. “Take the couch,” you say dismissively, “or the carpet.” You make a beeline for the bed, but Mark’s arm wraps around your waist, effectively stopping you.

Ohmygodohmygodohmygod “Shut up and let go of me, dick,” you stutter out. Mark loosens his grip and you shove him off, glaring at him. He gazes back down at you, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “We can’t just make up terms without negotiation,” he says matter-of-factly, and you blow a raspberry. “Fine. Let’s negotiate then. I’m a girl and that puts me above you because chivalry isn’t dead, thus, boom, I get the bed.”

“I was in the uncomfortable passenger seat all day and my lower back hurts,” he counters.

“My legs are wobbly.”

“Bullshit. My back aches.”

“You already said that, it’s invalid.”

The back and forth only intensifies, your arguments growing more and more bizarre, until finally, your volume is so high Lia says she can hear it faintly, four doors down. 

“The couch looks comfy,” you try, but Mark stands firm. 

“Do you know what? The bed is big. It’s a big bed. And we’re not going to take up much space. If we divide the bed with the sofa pillows…” you pick up the cushions and line them up neatly along the middle, “…then we can sleep beside each other without having to make contact with each other.” He seems convinced, stepping closer to the bed and nodding. “Okay. I get first dibs on the shower.”

“Asshole,” you mutter, but you let him anyway. You’ve unpacked nearly all your things and he isn’t done yet, so you’ve resorted to scrolling mindlessly through Tiktok and laughing at just about everyone that pops up on screen. Mark finally exits after what feels like forever, and you keep your eyes trained on your screen to avoid looking at him. From your peripheral vision, he is very much shirtless. There are no words exchanged, the thickness in the air only building bit by bit.

—

Three hours later, post-dinner, post-abandoning the thought of working on your paper, you’re stumbling into your room after helping the very tipsy couple of the night into theirs. You’re beyond tired now, and you can tell Mark is, too, despite the lack of eye contact or communication between you. You don’t even look at him, brushing your teeth and removing your makeup and clipping your hair up into a bun. It’s when he does the same, and you’re both in bed, using your phones, that he finally breaks the silence.

“I’m not mad,” he says. His voice is even and calm, and you quickly shut your phone off and sit up, peering over the pillow boundary you had created. You look at him expectantly before he sighs and continues. “Why did you leave?”

You stand up, getting out, trying to increase distance. You’ve never really liked confrontation. “I was weirded out,” you spill, “and scared…? I guess with the nearness of being caught, and with all the lights on, I was just shocked back to reality.”

He sits up. “What’s reality?”

“I don’t—know,” you splutter, getting back on the bed. “Not kissing you?”

He laughs, and then it becomes silent. “Right. Let’s sleep, then.” Without another word, he pulls his lamp off, and only the white moonlight is left illuminating the both of you. Shucking yourself under the covers, feeling your heart practically thump out of your chest. You honestly think he can hear it, or at least feel it. Suddenly the boundary doesn’t do much. You turn away from him, nervous, and you can faintly hear his breathing even out. You shut your eyes for a second. When you open them again, he’s looking right at you. “Just checking to see if you’re asleep,” he says quietly. You nod. And then you lean upwards, just a touch, so your lips nearly brush slightly. “Night,” you say, before turning to sleep for real.

You’re not sure when. And how. Sure, you faintly remember digging your legs sleepily through the sheets to find warmth and tangling Mark’s in your own. But still—when you’re up, the pillow fort is at your feet, hanging precariously off the four post bed, and your back is against Mark’s chest. His breath fans lightly over your hair and you blearily register what happened overnight. His arm is slung over your middle, it’s quiet, and oh Christ, he is hard.

It’s fairly late. He’s hard. The antique clock mounted up on the wall tells you it’s around nine, which essentially gave you seven hours of sleep. He’s hard. You bask in the warmth of Mark for a while before your resolve solidifies and you gently push his arm off from its position on your hips. He only comes on stronger, wrapping fully around your waist, mumbling incoherence into your hair. He’s hard. You squeeze your eyes shut, summoning sleep to overcome you quickly, but it never does. Dread overcomes you as you feel your underwear grow damp.

“Mm,” Mark grunts, his hand around your waist loosening. You move away but his head suddenly lolls into the crook of your neck, his lips touching the side of it. You whimper. He’s a fucking asshole, even when he’s asleep. You pinch his arm, jolting him to half-awakeness, and you roll away, despite your body’s protests.

He blinks his eyes open. “Sorry, shit,” he says, voice deep and ridden with sleep. You’re fucked.

“It’s okay,” you splutter instead. “Just go back to sleep.” You faintly register that you sound just as exhausted as he does, and you bury your head back into the covers. Everything, plus the sound of his voice, has you dripping, and you breathe in deeply to poorly disguise a whimper. He chuckles, already half-asleep, from where he is, and it’s quiet for a few minutes before you realize he’s fallen asleep. Knowing Lia and Daniel will be busy for a while, you pull a spare pillow over your head and chant to yourself before falling back asleep, too.

When you awaken, the bed is cold and empty, and the shower’s running. You check the time to find only an hour has passed, but you’re much more awake now, getting up and knocking incessantly on the bathroom door. “Hurry,” you demand hoarsely, “I want to go skiing.” You hear a muffled okay and scurry over to your bag to find the pair of leggings you had packed for this. You also find your parka, and you pull off your shirt to clasp on a bra.

“Not that I don’t mind,” Mark says, eliciting a yelp from you as you tug a sweater on at record speed, “but generally, that kind of thing only goes unnoticed in nudist colonies. I could research some for you, if you’d—ow! I was joking, God!” You bonk him twice over the head with the Bible on the bedside table, your brows furrowed angrily. “You looked, asshat,” you say, collecting your things and locking yourself in the bathroom.

When it becomes increasingly evident that Lia and Daniel have no plans of exiting their room, you grumble and resort to skiing alone. But as you’re shuffling out, bundled up, you spot Mark leaning against the exit waiting for you. He looks up and tsks. “About fucking time,” he says, holding the door open for you. It’s not that cold out—maybe you’re just used to having snow and chilly weather, and so is Mark—so you barely shiver, walking around and looking for a good place to ski.

“Forget skiing,” Mark says after a few rounds. “Let’s go sledding. I have a thing.”

“A toboggan, you mean.”

“A funny word. Really, just say sled.”

You let up, anyway, the bright sky and cold ground sending serotonin right into you. Sure enough, Mark does have a nice, blue sled that he lets you on, and then the two of you are bolting down the hill at breakneck speed, laughing all the way. It’s quite a long ride, and you’re smiling and yelping so much the cloth you’ve used to cover your neck has ridden down, the cold air hitting your face harshly.

You land very ungracefully—the toboggan hits a small tree and sends you and Mark catapulting in the same direction, your hands clawing at the air for expense. You find Mark’s arm and cling onto it in the split second you’re in the air, landing on a clearing of thick snow. The arm you’ve clung onto pulls you closer, Mark grunting “be careful,” and when the whole fiasco’s over, you’re smiling like an idiot, and you’re right on top of Mark.

You’re not straddling him or anything, but you’ve just happened to land with your face a little above his. You can’t stop laughing, your face flushed and red with the cold air hitting your face. So you laugh. Why wouldn’t you laugh? It was a good day. A good ride down the hill. So you keep laughing until they’re reduced to giggles, Mark laughing right along as you pull down the covering of his mouth and tug his beanie off, ruffling your hands in his hair and dipping down to kiss him.

He kisses you right back, his lips cold but quickly growing warm with the friction. You smile into the kiss, your hands roaming all over his pink face. The kiss is giggly and light, your hands all over each other as the sunlight filters in through the thick trees overhead.

You pull away after a while. “I hate you,” you whisper. He presses a kiss to your jawline and lets it linger there. “You think I don’t?”

—

Stage 3: Bargaining, Depression|

You’ve begun to type the structure out when Lia tugs on your pajamas, her tone insistent and curious. “What’s up with you and Mark?” she presses, her cheek pressed to your stomach. You fervently hope she doesnt notice how your breathing quickens, and, keeping your voice even, you answer. “We’re…thinking about things.”

Which—you were thinking about things, to be fair. There were things to be thought and you had to think about them. It was a broad half-truth. It had been two weeks since the ski lodge thing, and you and Mark had decided it was probably best to shut the fuck up about everything you had done. (Everything meaning a few kisses here and there, and maybe a little more under the covers.) You’d hated yourself for hiding it from Lia, but you and Mark were actually feeling hesitant about moving forward with whatever you were. There was a lot of ambiguity and questions, and until you could clear it up yourself, you knew you weren’t ready to tell anybody else. You had talked about it already—clearly, the two of you were beyond jumping straight into a relationship after not liking each other that much and then becoming hesitant friends.

But it was, if you had to admit it to yourself, nice having that little secret.

“I’d want to tell Lia soon,” you tease, walking steadily beside Mark. The afternoon sun is warm on your heads, the snow falling intermittently. He turns with a small smile. “I’d want to tell Hyuck, too.” You scoff, burying your head in his chest. You probably look fucking disgusting. Around you, Washington Square Park is full of natives and tourists, and college students like you, all scurrying around and giving you that very much holiday feel.

He buys you a hot cocoa and hands it to you. “Are you heading home soon?”

You take a sip, your tongue hot. “If my ratty dorm counts as home, then yes.”

“Home is a feeling, not a place. Does your ratty dorm feel like home?”

“Kind of. Lia’s there. And so is the rat infestation in the ceiling.”

Mark nearly chokes on his cocoa. “You’re gross as fuck.”

You let out a loud laugh, your beanie nearly falling off with the bounciness of it. Mark reaches behind you to catch it, pressing a kiss to your lips in the process, soft and light and God, you like it. A lot. “Clumsy,” he remarks, pulling it back on and dragging a generous amount of your hair in front of your eyes as he does it. “It’s gonna be Christmas soon, and thank God we’re nearly done with this paper.”

“It was my genius idea to combine bargaining and depression,” you quip. “That’s my gift to you. Merry Christmas, Mark Lee.” He laughs at that. His laugh, you’ve noticed, is goddamn loud, and it’s a literal cackle, but he always looks so happy when he laughs. And buoyant. “You look stupid,” you say, but the smile on your face is undeniable. He glares playfully at you, taking your hand and walking you both in the direction of your building.

“New York in the snow,” he hums. “Always a great place.”

“It’s full of tourists,” you counter. Always disagreeing.

He chuckles and then, like clockwork—like how you’ve done it for the past six dates—you separate when you’re just shy of a meter away from the lobby entrance. Your fingers curl in search of his, and you jog up the steps, eager to get into the warmth of the building. The lobby’s pretty empty, save for a couple of students. Mark’s ahead of you, already pressing the elevator button and waiting impatiently. 

“We’re alone,” he sing-songs, his eyebrows wiggling. The doors open right as you take Mark’s hand, and you look up to meet Daniel’s wide eyes. Then you look to the right to meet Lia’s.

Despite your inner turmoil, you remain nonchalant, pinching Mark’s wrist instead of holding it like you’d planned. “That’s why our professor fucking hates you,” you say, narrowing your eyes. Your heart is beating a mile a minute, but you muster a neutral expression, shoving your hands back into your pockets. Lia knows you, though, and her furrowed eyebrows and parted lips say everything—but you just shrug, playing off what they could have caught you doing. “Hey,” you say, walking into the elevator with Mark. It all blows over.

AKA: Daniel has to drag a curious Lia away from you, with a promise that you would converse later. You and Mark are alone again, in the elevator, your hands barely touching, laughs loud. It’s all blurry after that. You’re high on a laugh and the thought of a kiss—you drag him over to your room, hands in his hair, breathless, loose kisses. You’re both so exhausted, though, that all you manage to extend your energy to is taking your tops off and making out lazily to the songs you’d recommended to each other.

“Mm,” he says when one of your songs starts playing. “It’s a nice song.” You nod with a smile. “I know it is, it’s one of my recommendations. It’s called Softly.” He plays with the strap of your bra. “I’ll give it more of a listen, then. Also, a red bra to school? Whatever will the professors think,” he jokes lightly, pressing insistent, but soft kisses on your shoulder. You laugh, pinching the inner part of his arm and eliciting a swear from him. “I was joking! I know you wore this for me, stupid.” The wind whistles outside, barely audible from the half-open window across the room, overlapping with the music.

This all feels too real, now.

You pout lazily against his bare chest. “Get off before Lia gets in,” you mumble, your heart beginning to race. He does, for what it’s worth, rolling off your bed with a loud thump and tugging his shirt and sweater back on. You watch him (fondly) annoyedly, your hair draping over you as you get up to properly shove him out. “Out, out,” you chant, laughing, and he giggles, turning abruptly to poke at your waist.

“Shut up,” you groan, a smile on your face. There’s a beat, then he pulls you close and kisses you, running outside right after with a literal guffaw. You watch him, wrapping your fleece blanket around your frame as he runs to the elevator, sweater backwards and hair messy.

—

Doubts are normal. This you’re assured of, but your head pounds with the sheer amount of things you’re cramming into it. You squint impossibly harder, trying to get the nail polish into the crook of Lia’s nail. You’ve probably overdone it, judging by the way she jabs her knuckle in between your eyebrows, her face contorted in worry. “Are you…okay?”

You narrow your eyes, the inner debate of telling her raging on and on. The nail polish drips onto her fingernail, rolling onto her pant leg, and she yelps, but her eyes are still on you. “You can tell me anything,” she says, softer this time. You know she’s serious—you know you can. You always have. You told her about every fling, one night stand, pregnancy scare, bad grade, hot professor, and spoiled deli food you’d encountered since you ever became friends. She knew you. And you were so sure she knew what you were about to say.

Except you didn’t know what you wanted to say. Your feelings were a mess, and you wanted one thing as much as you wanted the other. You couldn’t place what you wanted, and if you had to narrow it down, you’d realize that you were scared of what you wanted. You were never really one for commitment, or a relationship, or really anything, for that matter. And the fact that you were so hung up on thinking about what you and Mark would become—Mark? It all seemed so dystopian, almost. Like you’d never expected it. Your friendship was a childhood bubble that popped in the span of your first high school semester, and that was that. But just two days ago you were being kissed all over by the same guy you’d had a cutthroat student council president competition with.

It seemed so absurd? Crazy? Those adjectives were a little over the top. Deep down, if you dug deep enough into the parts you didn’t even tell yourself, you knew what you were. And if anybody else were to know, it would be Lia.

“I’m scared,” you choke out, your voice shaky. “I’m scared and sad, and happy and angry, and I want this but I don’t.” You cover the nail polish, shaking your head. “This is all so new to me. I hate how much I feel, especially because it feels so wrong. You know me—relationships are just not cut out for me. They’re scary and new. And people in relationships turn all gooey. I’m scared that this won’t last, but I’m scared that it will, and I’ll be doomed to an eternity of bland, padlocked relationships. It’s weird. I could be feeling this way for anyone, but it had to be Mark? If only I didn’t hate him, then maybe we could’ve gone off on a better foot. If only this whole thing never fucking happened, right?”

“It’s okay,” Lia cuts in. “Being scared is okay. It’s part of the whole process. And nobody said you had to get along like conjoined twins in a relationship. They just go when they go and end when they end. Not every relationship starts as a high school sweetheart thing and ends with three kids and a picket fence. And I’m so sure Mark would be so understanding if you didn’t like him or if you chose not to continue.”

“You knew?”

She laughs. “Of course I knew. I know a post-sex glow when I see one, and I was blinded that morning at the ski lodge.” You groan, pinching her indignantly, hiding your face in your hands as she laughs out of view. “Okay. Take some time and think about it, but for now, I want to get my nails done, so.” 

—

It’ll be a week before you come up with what you want, and the whole time you generally avoid talking about solemn topics with him in person. 

It’ll be another few days before you finally talk to him personally—with your paper nearly finished, you suggest a meeting at the library. It’s just two days before Christmas Eve, and you know Mark’s going to be driving to Canada, so you want to snatch him away for your own personal time for just a second. The snow has all but thickened as you meet outside the building, the silence deafening.

“Hi,” he says, smiling. You know he’s probably picked up on your erratic, quieter behavior in the past several days, but you gulp and lead him inside anyways, to your favorite section. “It’s almost Christmas Eve,” he says, watching you stall, surrounded by Philosophy books from just about every century. “I know,” you say, hoping you don’t sound too nervous.

“You sound nervous,” he says.

“Do I?” you ask shakily, your voice taking on an unnaturally high pitch. “I mean, er. I guess I sort of am. I guess I’ve been thinking about everything lately—about you and me and everything that just happened so suddenly. Because—because it did happen so suddenly. I just…needed time? Yeah, time. To think about everything. Because it all happened so quickly, I…” you stutter. “I’m scared of these things. I’m not used to them. Relationships? Things that last longer than a couple weeks? I don’t like these. 

I have something bigger I want to focus on and anybody who gets in the way just isn’t worth it. And it’s so weird how it was you out of all people I started thinking about it with. Usually I just have the rare fling and then they’re gone, and I’m not even mad. But you’re different. And I like it. 

But I just needed time to find out if I really liked it. If I really wanted to try. I know it’s only been a few weeks, and I probably sound really fucking stupid, but you get me—you get me, right? And that’s how I realized—if it happens, it happens. If it doesn’t, it doesn’t. I don’t know why I overthought it. I mean, it’s a good thing and a bad thing that I did. Like, on one hand, I got to really think about how this would play out, and on the other, I’d just end up spiraling. And it’s just weird. I hope you don’t know I hated you. Hate you? Hated you. I was just—it was all so juvenile. Everything just stemmed from that one awfully dumb high school rivalry. But other than that, you were always a cool…see what I mean? I’m kind of rambling—even if I thought I had planned this out. And. Yeah. I dunno. I fucking…I hate you, stop laughing.”

Mark smiles down at you—you’re busy pretending to read a Sartre book to look unfazed, but your flickering gaze says it all. 

“Okay, stupid,” he says, bordering onto a laugh. “If that’s your way of saying you’re willing to give this a try, then I graciously accept. Should I be saying something equally long? I—is that how this works?”

You roll your eyes and kiss him instead, pulling him close, Sartre’s postulates dropping to the floor alongside your tiptoes.

—

Stage 4: Acceptance|

“Acceptance is just that. Just accepting that you love that person after weeks or months of all the other stages. With her, it was. Like. It’s the whole sitting down after silence, having some time for the revelation to set in before you realize you love them. Or like them? Well, love them, I guess. But I don’t know why you would be asking me this.”

You bury your head further into Mark’s shoulder, your eyes strained from how long they’d been trained onto your screen. You smile up at Daniel, thanking him for the input and beginning to type it in, watching Lia doze off on his shoulder. “We’re asking because we’re not quite there yet,” Mark hums, “it’s just February. It’s barely been two months.” You nod, watching Mark type where you left off on the document. Daniel snorts from across you. “You’re just about, I guess.” Mark chuckles, shrugging so your head bounces off his shoulder unceremoniously.

“Like I’d ever fall in love with that shitstorm,” he says pointedly.

“Oh, and I’d fall in love with this dickwad?”

“You’re perfect for each other. Bullying, but we all know Mark brought back gifts from Canada and that you stitched an initial onto his sweater.”

“To practice my embroidery. Also, I stitched Mark’s initial. M. Asshole.”

“Okay,” whistles Daniel, his hand unconsciously coming up to make sure Lia doesn’t fall off his shoulder. “But hey, you’re just about to submit this paper and I’m fondly remembering all the times you despised each other. And when you”—he points at you, devilish grin on his face—“started gushing to Lia about how he”—he then turns to Mark—“kissed you at Johnny’s party.”

“God, it’s not the time for that yet, we’re still a fresh couple,” you groan, burying your head in your hands. “You have so much dirt on me, Choi.” Mark just laughs, though, loudly, bringing the other cafe-goers’ attention to yours. He bites your shoulder to stifle it, eliciting a laugh from you. “I agree, there should be a certain time requirement for pre-relationship embarrassing stories,” Mark says, closing his laptop. Lia gets up at that point, already half-awake from the ruckus (AKA Mark’s laugh), pulling on Daniel’s sleeve. “Alright, and that’s my cue to get this girl some more coffee and then go.”

“Mm, I’ll come with,” you say, “I need a refresher before we leave soon, anyway.”

You walk in between them, your fingers laced in Lia’s as she squeezes them sleepily. They order first and then they’re off with a smile and a polite goodbye, leaving you to order your drink. You gaze up at the menu, and then down at—

“Long time no see,” Chan says with a knowing beam. “How is your not boyfriend boyfriend?”

“Well, he’s my boyfriend now.”

“See, I always know. What do you want?”

“An iced ca—how did you know?” You ask, tempted.

“It’s just…the energy? It was a hit or miss, but I kinda got that feeling that something was going to happen.”

“Hmm,” you hum. “An iced caramel then.”

“And a black coffee for her best friend!” Hollers a new voice that you could never miss, turning slowly towards the entrance to meet Donghyuck’s crazy eyes. He’s in a suit, which isn’t unusual given the sheer amount of presentations he’s had to do since the new year started. You roll your eyes but put in the extra cash anyway, much to Chan’s amusement. Hyuck nears you with a sly grin. “I hear you’ll be submitting your paper soon. I just want my name in there so I’m in your professor’s good graces.”

“She’s not even going to be your professor, Hyuck,” you say, taking your drink and smiling at Chan. You and Donghyuck both walk back to where Mark’s sitting, you beside him and Hyuck across the both of you. “Yes, but it pays to be in somebody’s good graces, I swear. See what happened? I got you two together. I orchestrated your entire love st—”

“Okay, now you’re just lying, Hyuck,” Mark says with a laugh, finishing up the first few paragraphs and closing his laptop. “We’re not even in love.” But his friend lets out a teasing smile, his eyes narrowed, and he gets up with a loud farewell and alibi about “being needed by my better friends.” You assume he’s talking about Jeno.

—

You walk to Mark’s room alongside him, thanks to the promise of his roommate, Jaemin, sleeping at a friend’s. Your fingers are intertwined loosely. The sun’s setting and Mark’s room is sheathed in beautiful shades of orange and pink, a vast array of dusk settling over the space. It happens quietly, but full of laughs, which is how it happens when you’re both tired and/or shitfaced. You do this a lot—a routine of sharing new songs or books you’d picked up over the week and then making out while they play in the background or while one of you read. It’s awfully, horribly, terribly fucking intimate. 

“Your bra sucks,” he jokes.

You love it.

“Get better abs and we can talk about it,” you counter, poking his toned stomach. He really, fully guffaws at that, pulling you onto his lap and then tugging his guitar out from where it stands at the corner. You flop back onto his bed, watching him play—and then registering the familiar opening of the Jonas Brothers song you used to request nearly everyday. “Lovebug,” you muse with a smile, singing along to his voice, carried away. You’re sleepy and light, and you know deep down—in that space of yourself where you’re all but honest—that you were going to fall in love with him someday.

Later, when all you’re doing is hugging him as he reads your latest Philosophy requirement to you, he pauses.

“Is this the 21st century idea of love?” He asks idly, unclasping your bra and connecting the moles on your shoulder. You hum. 

“It’s the Gen Z idea,” you say, connecting the ones on his bare back. “And this isn’t love.”

“Corny.” he smiles against your collarbones. You kiss his neck. It’s all very gradual.

—

hope you liked it :) drop an ask! I absolutely love all types of feedback