#and six times as long as the fic it's based on

[annebd]

winter warmers, day 17: public sex/hot cocoa ~2700 words. this fic is based loosely off the pics and my tags on this post.

“Final grades are already submitted, mate. The time for bribery has come and gone.”

“Very funny, Daniel.” Max places the cup of hot cocoa on Daniel’s desk. A little bit of the whipped cream has sputtered out of the hole at the top. He swipes at it and licks the foam off his finger. He watches Daniel watching him. “Extra whipped cream and a sprinkle of cinnamon, like you like it. And anyway, it’s not a bribe because you are not my teacher anymore. That’s the point."

Max slouches off his backpack and dumps it in a heap on the floor in front of the threadbare armchair next to Daniel’s desk. He throws off his jacket, too- slings it over the back of the chair- before slumping to sit, his legs spread wide. He’s spent the better part of the semester in this exact position, big blue eyes staring raptly at Daniel across the desk, counting down the minutes until this moment. Now it’s Daniel’s turn to stare.

“Max…” he warns.

The door to Daniel’s tiny, cramped office is wide open, but it’s quiet. It’s late into the evening on the last day of the semester. The university is almost entirely deserted by now. All of the students abandoned campus the moment they finished their last exams over the week, and the professors have all gone home for the day, leaving their TAs to put together the final touches on grading for the end of the semester.

Daniel’s office is at the end of a long corridor in the dingy, mostly unused section of the English department. There’s a janitor’s closet next door that contains nothing more than a single mop and a broken plastic bucket. The empty office across the hall has a bigger desk than his and an actually functioning window, but when Daniel asked if he could move over there instead, his advisor had thrown around words like “seniority” and “tenure” and “paying his dues.” So he’s been stuck in this shoe closet for the past two years, while a perfectly good office lies empty just a few steps away. He likes to complain to Max about it when he’s feeling particularly resentful about some university bullshit or other. Max just likes to listen to him talk.

The office is, as usual, empty. As is the janitor’s closet. As is every other office or storage room down the hallway, all the way to the elevator bank, where the lone lightbulb is flickering intermittently, casting dancing shadows along the wall. They’re alone in the building for now. No one else is around.

Max tells Daniel this.

“No one else, huh?” Daniel leans back in his own chair, matches Max’s slouching posture. He takes a sip of the cocoa. Savors it. Takes another. “And what exactly am I supposed to do with that information?”

“You know what, Daniel. You are not my teacher anymore. This stupid class is over. No more Beowulf, thank god. And now I can have you. You said.”

“You can have me?” Daniel cuts himself off. “Jesus, Max. That’s definitely one way to phrase it.”

“Always you and your phrasing. I still am upset about when you took points off my essay for that, by the way.”

Daniel laughs.

Max doesn’t. He glances at the open door, which offers a clear view down the hallway. Still empty. Not so much as a faint footstep click-clacking in the distance.

He stands and turns Daniel’s swivel chair outwards a little so that he has enough space to kneel down in front of him. 

“Max,” Daniel warns him again, but his voice is softer this time. He’s not protesting. He’s looking down at Max, who’s already sliding his hands up and down the soft, worn denim encasing Daniel’s thighs.

“You have to say yes. You already said we could, but you have to say you want this now.” Max sits back onto his heels, and immediately feels colder being even six inches further away from Daniel. “Will you say yes, for me? Say that I can have you?”

Daniel runs a hand across his stubbled cheek, lets it cover his mouth for a moment. Max watches the light catch on his gold rings and dance across the wall. Daniel pulls off his glasses (an affectation, he’d once told Max. His prescription is so weak that he can get by fine without them, but they help sell the look. PhD student in English Lit, rather than tatted bogan) and looks at Max with wide eyes. Max looks back.

“Yes,” he says. “All right? I’m saying yes. You can have me.”

“Okay,” Max agrees and pushes Daniel’s grey sweater up so that he can lean in and suck a bruise into the center of his chest. He pulls back to look at it. His own mark on Daniel’s skin. Daniel has told him about some of his tattoos, and he’s seen some, of course, but he knows that there are others yet to be discovered. He’ll find every last one with his eyes and then his tongue. For now, he’ll add a few more of his own.

Daniel groans when Max sets his teeth against Daniel’s nipple. “Fuck, babe. Not even a kiss first? Right to the nipple play, huh?”

Max pulls back. Daniel’s right: they should kiss. He lets the sweater fall out of his hands and pulls Daniel by the back of the knees so that he slides lower in the chair. Max pushes into the space between Daniel’s spread legs so that they’re chest to chest.

Daniel looks soft like this, vulnerable, as he looks up to where Max hovers slightly taller than him. Max is used to Daniel taking up so much space: big laugh, big personality, big hair. But here, underneath Max’s hands, he’s small. His baggy sweaters hide a narrow waist, tapering to bony hips- delicate wrists extending to long, nail-bitten fingers. Max wants to cover him completely, hide him from the world, keep him for himself. That wouldn’t be fair, though. The world would be so much smaller without Daniel in it.

He cups his hand around Daniel’s cheek, his beard prickling ticklishly against Max’s palm.

“Hi,” Daniel says, quietly.

“Hello, Daniel,” Max says and then leans in for a kiss. It’s softer than he’s expecting, given the stubble situation. Daniel’s lips are warm against his, and they press together for just a moment before Max pulls away to look at him. He never gets tired of looking at Daniel.

He moves back in, harder this time, Daniel’s mouth opening for his, and he licks his way inside. He sucks on Daniel’s tongue, where the taste of cocoa and cinnamon is still lingering. Daniel kisses back- biting, bruising kisses that send a shock of pleasure direct to Max’s cock. He could spend hours here, days, years, just feeling the pressure of Daniel’s mouth on his.

But he has plans that extend beyond just a few heated kisses.

He has wanted this since the very first day of the semester, when he walked into that stupid Brit Lit classroom with his stupid copy of Beowulf and saw the hottest person he’s ever seen in his life sitting cross legged on the desk upfront, waving him in and telling him to grab a seat, that they’re just getting started.

He’d sat in the closest seat to the front, dead center, and spent the next three months contributing minimally to the in-class discussions that Daniel led, and instead, daydreamed about bending him over the lectern and fucking him until he cried. He did fine on exams, wrote marginally passable essays (phrasing issues aside), but couldn’t be bothered to contribute to the inanity of the conversations around him when he could spend that time imagining the taste of Daniel’s golden honey skin if he licked him all the way from his collarbone to his cock.

Soon enough, he’d started showing up to Daniel’s office hours twice a week, and then inviting himself to sit in the office whenever he knew Daniel would be there. He’d plop himself in the armchair and tap away at his homework for other classes (“the ones that matter, Daniel”) while Daniel worked on grading essays and occasionally tapped away at the doc that will eventually become his thesis.

And in that time, Max’s fantasies turned from the desk in the lecture hall to the desk right here in this cramped office. He’s spent many an afternoon sitting in the ratty armchair and watching Daniel work, while picturing doing exactly what he’s doing now: pressing his lips against Daniel’s and sliding his hand underneath his sweater to pinch a nipple, drawing out a low moan.

Daniel had always said no. Not until the semester was over; not while he was still in a position of power over Max.

And now they’re here. The semester is done, Daniel is no longer his TA, and Max can live out every last one of his fantasies.

Without breaking the kiss, he grabs Daniel around the waist and levers him up and out of the chair so that he can spin him around to sit on the edge of his desk. He leans around Daniel’s side to close the lid of his laptop and set it on the chair, which frees up the space he needs to lay him out flat on his back and start pulling at his clothes.

“Off,” he says, and shoves the hem of the sweater up so that Daniel will remove it completely. He reaches down to take off Daniel’s boots and then unzips his jeans and pulls them off. Between the two of them it’s quick work until Daniel is naked, save for his socks and the gold chain around his neck. He’s on his back with his ass at the edge of the desk and his thighs already falling open for Max to fit perfectly between.

Max takes a moment to appreciate the sight in front of him. Daniel’s tan is still a perfect golden, even now in the startling cold of mid-December. He’s lithe, deceptively muscled for how slender he is, further camouflaged by the baggy sweaters and hoodies he’s usually draped in. But like this, all of him on full display for Max’s pleasure, he’s a perfect specimen of toned muscle.

There are more tattoos even than Max expected- his thighs especially are a quilt of color. Max ignores them for now. There will be plenty of time for them to become more intimately acquainted later. For now, Max has other issues to attend to- like licking that stripe across Daniel’s torso. Collarbone to cock, and then back again.

He must stare for a hair too long, because Daniel starts to curl in on himself, shy in a way that Max has never seen him before. That can’t stand. Max leans down to kiss him again, pressing his hardening cock, still trapped inside his jeans, against Daniel’s, which forces his legs wide again. He wraps them around Max’s back and tugs him in closer.

They kiss lazily for a while until Max is so hard that the press of his cock against his zipper is a physical ache. He unzips and pulls himself out, immediately thrusting into the hollow where Daniel’s hip meets his thigh, precome slicking the way.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” he says, no beating around the bush.

He makes quick work of sliding on a condom and then slicking his cock and Daniel’s hole with a tiny packet of lube, both of which he’d tucked into his pocket earlier this evening.

He pushes in and feels the warmth of Daniel surrounding his cock. Daniel’s eyes widen and he gasps when Max bottoms out. He’s not huge, but his cock is thick, and he can feel Daniel’s hole fluttering around him to accommodate his girth. He moves slowly, letting him get used to the stretch.

“Fuck, Max,” Daniel chokes out as Max thrusts in to the hilt again. “More, please.”

“So polite for me. Of course, Daniel. I’ll give you everything you want.” And he does. For long minutes, he focuses on nothing more than the connection between their bodies, Daniel’s entirely naked and Max’s still fully clothed. He’s insane with the sensation, the knowledge that Daniel is giving himself over to Max so completely, letting Max take care of him.

He’s on the verge of coming when Max feels Daniel still beneath him for a moment, his gaze focused over Max’s shoulder. “Max, the door.”

“Yes. It’s still open. Anyone could walk past and see us. They could see you all spread out for me. For my cock. They could hear you, too, of course. Because you’re being very loud with your moans, Daniel.” He pushes in deep, makes sure to stroke firmly across Daniel’s prostate. He waits for him to moan and then does it again. “Just like that.”

Daniel shudders and clenches down around Max’s cock. It’s Max’s turn to moan out loud. He can feel Daniel starting to tremble beneath him. He reaches for Daniel’s cock and starts jerking him roughly.

“Now, Daniel,” he says. “Come for me now. Please.”

Daniel closes his eyes and pulls Max down over him, presses their mouths together. He licks across Max’s teeth as he comes. Max follows immediately behind, filling the condom and wishing they could do this bare. Imagines the feeling of filling Daniel instead, spurting deep inside him. He groans again as his hips kick up reflexively. He adds that to the mental tally for next time. There will absolutely need to be a next time.

They take their time cleaning up. Max grabbed a stack of napkins when he brought Daniel’s hot cocoa earlier. They don’t make for the most glamorous post-fuck clean up, but they’ll do.

When their clothes are back in place and they look mostly presentable again, Max tugs teasingly at the chain around Daniel’s neck, pulls him in for a kiss.

“Thank you for waiting for me,” Daniel tells him softly.

Then, he grins big for a second. “Oh, and for the cocoa, too. Delish, mate.”

Max just rolls his eyes. “You’re welcome. For both. Now, come. I need to take you home and fuck you some more. On a big bed, where I can take my time.”

He waits for Daniel to gather his things and turn out the lights in the office. He’ll finish his last bit of grading over the weekend, he tells Max.

They walk down the hall to the elevator, Max with one hand wrapped around Daniel’s hip and a thumb tucked through his belt loop.

As they near the elevator bank, they both freeze. Just a few doors down from Daniel’s office, they see light streaming out from Dr. Lambiase’s office, light that definitely hadn’t been there when Max showed up earlier.

They turn to look at each other, their eyes huge. Slowly, they walk towards the open door and freeze again when a familiar voice calls out from a familiar face. “Evening, boys. I thought I was already done for the day, but I had to come all the way back to campus to grab a couple of folders before break. You two all done for the evening?”

Neither of them says anything. Dr. Lambiase raises an eyebrow at them.

Max nudges Daniel to answer; he’s the TA. Not Dr. Lambiase’s TA, of course, but still. Max is just a student.

Daniel hurries to spit out, “Yeah, yep, we’re all done. Max just had a couple questions from the final exam, but we’re all good now, so we’re gonna go, have a good night, see you later.” He waves, prompts Max to do the same, and then speedwalks them down the rest of the hallway, where they wait in silence for the elevator to arrive.

“Oh my god,” Daniel says as soon as the elevator doors close. “Oh my god!”

“Well,” Max intones. “I guess we can check that one off the fantasy list, then?”

They look at each other silently for a second and then collapse into each other in a pile of giggles. Yeah, Max is definitely going to cross that one off the list.

[leithillustration]

Six Sentence Sunday

Thank you @theimpossibledemon for the tag like two weeks ago, I get so happy being tagged XD I’m sorry it’s taken this long to reciprocate!

I had planned on getting the second chapter of Snow On Ice out before this weekend, but my adhd and the general chaos of this time of year had other plans. Rest assured, a new chapter is coming and it is a chonk.

For now, here is Baz introducing himself to the rest of the contestants and skaters:

“Hello, my name is Baz. I’m a singles figure skater. My fact is that I have known Simon Snow since we were children, and his fun fact is that he can drink three cherry slushies then do a spin with 22 rotations without being sick.” The corner of my mouth twitches upwards as everyone around the table chuckles. Snow looks at me like I’ve just told everyone he’s not wearing any underwear. Personally, I thought I was being kind. I could’ve added it was the 23rd rotation that made him spew bright blue vomit all over the ice.

Want to read more? This is my original post summarising Snow On Ice, a fic I'm writing based on gorgeous artwork by @iamamythologicalcreature for this year's @carryon-reverse-bang✨ The first chapter is up on Ao3.

If you’d like to be tagged in future updates, let me know❤️

Tags under the cut

@youarenevertooold @iamamythologicalcreature @alexalexinii @cattocavo @that-disabled-princess

@orange-peony @cutestkilla @rimeswithpurple @larkral @best--dress

@scribble-tier @theimpossibledemon @artsyunderstudy @raenestee @thewholelemon

@nightimedreamersworld @itriednottothinkaboutit @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @angelsfalling16

@the-beard-of-edward-teach @monbons

[becasbelt]

i used to hate you (i never could)

Summary: Caitlyn huffs a breath and turns more fully towards the stranger. “I said I don’t want to dance with you,” she repeats, loud and clear. The girl tilts her head, smirk sliding into something even more cocky. “How convenient,” she drawls, reaching out and slipping the drink from Caitlyn’s hand. “I don’t wanna dance with you, either.” - A look into Caitlyn and Vi's relationship, long before Vi cleans up Caitlyn's mess. OR, Vi is a walking red flag, and Caitlyn is a little more than into that. Words: 12.2k Rating: E Notes: a while back @thehomelybadger wrote a twisted little fic about ex-lovers covering up a murder (link), and I've been obsessed with it ever since. SO HERE'S A PREQUEL TO IT.

From the moment she first saw her, Caitlyn knew she would hate Vi.

They meet at a party that Mel drags her to – some friend’s friend of her brother who apparently knows everyone within a 20-mile radius based on how crowded the small house is when they arrive. They’re not on campus, and Caitlyn doesn’t think the host is a law student, but she still sees half of her class getting wasted and grinding together from her place by the drinks table.

It’s not necessarily a scene she would have chosen herself. She’s a week into her first year of law school and can already feel permanent bags forming under her eyes.

Mel ditches her almost as soon as they walk through the door, of course. The second she locks eyes with Jayce Talis, she squeezes Caitlyn’s arm with a vague excuse and disappears, leaving Caitlyn to fend for herself. Two drinks, three aborted conversations, and one headache later, Caitlyn is wondering if she can get away with leaving the party without finding Mel first when she feels it.

The eyes on her.

It’s like a sixth sense, the way Caitlyn is able to know exactly where to look. Her eyes sift through the dancing crowd until they land on a pair of icy blue eyes watching her from across the room.

It’s a moment that Caitlyn knows will live forever in her memory.

Read the rest on AO3!

[biteyoubiteme]

black cherry flavored

ot5 txt x fem!reader

synopsis: how many ghostfaces are there again?

warnings: 🔞!!! gangbang, mentions of drinking, getting scared, fearplay? reader gets chased through house and doesnt know who it is, knifeplay (only used to cut off underwear), clit play, mean dom moments, filming during sex, slight breeding kink, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms (f!), creampie(s), marking, subspace, fingering, oral (m! rec), hair pulling!, overstim (f!rec), she/her used prob forgot some

wc: 9.2k (this one got away from me)

an: this is not proofread at all im so so so sorry forgive me sweet angel ily but I cannot believe october is over and this event has come to an end ;-; I hope you guys like this one! im a HUGE horror movie fan so I was excited to do this and hopefully it turned out well. I went with a different approach for a scream fic that was kinda based on different aspects from the movies and I hope you like it! feedback is appreciated :)) [m.list]

this is apart of my mini kinktober event check out the rest of the fics! [dumdum m.list]

"whats your favorite scary movie?"

You roll your eyes, hand coming up to cover the screen of your laptop. “Aren't you supposed to be doing your own work not pestering me about mine?” 

It was late in the night, the library dead silent besides the hum of the heater and faint typing on stiff keyboards. The door to the study space was cracked just enough to hear the elevator if it dinged, the indicator the floor would soon be closing for the cleaning staff. The clock on the wall told you it was close to one in the morning, only an hour away from the library being cleared and closed.  

“I'm avoiding the rest of my essay,” beomgyu shrugs, clicking his pen as a signal for an end to the line of questioning. “Annoying you just seemed like a better plan,” 

“Annoying all of us, I needed this done an hour ago,” yeonjun doesn't even look up from his laptop, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose, lenses glossed over with the light from his screen, fingers speeding over the keys only to pause and jam the delete button. “Fuck, i lost my train of thought,” 

“It's already late, just turn it in tomorrow morning,” huening suggests, slouched back in his chair, thumbs nibbly swiveling on the joystick of his switch. “The syllabus said it was ten points off no matter how late after twelve you submit it,” 

“Don't talk to me right now, you got yours in on time. And I'm getting this done tonight whether I like it or not. I won't be able to handle looking at it tomorrow morning. the paper just won't get turned in at all if that happens,” yeonjuns back to typing furiously squinting at his laptop not noticing kais grin. 

“You should have listened to me about meeting up at nine, but nooo-” 

“Huening,” yeonjun warns. 

“I'm just saying…” 

Yeonjun picks up one of Soobin's scattered pens from the table, tossing it at Kai hitting him in the lap. And when Kai just laughs, Yeonjun picks up a few more to throw, the showering of pens making Kai yelp. 

“Shhh,” soobin doesn't even lift his head to see what's going on. He and tae had been trying to sleep for the better part of two hours, Taehyun having found success, sliding two chairs together to prop his legs up. He pulled his hat down over his eyes and hasn't said anything since closing them. Soobin only crossed his arms and laid his head down, leg bouncing showing he was still struggling to actually find it in him to sleep without his bed. 

The six of you usually booked the room on Friday nights from nine to two, blocking the time to try and catch up on work before the weekend. It was either the time you got the most work done or none at all. You're surprised it took beomgyu this long to finally turn away from his assignment at this point he's usually at the whiteboard doodling or trying to get everyone to play dirty hangman. 

It was easier to get all of you together here instead of one of your small dorms, the space hardly big enough for three people let alone six. In the library you didn't have to worry about cramming together, the fourth floors study spaces equipped with long tables and eight chairs. Out of the two libraries on campus this one didn't have many people visit often, especially not when the walk from any of the dorms was twice as long. The fourth floor was empty and quiet except for the group's laughter on nights you didn't worry about work. 

“You didn't answer that question,” beomgyu points out again, pointer finger pushing away your hand blocking the screen, “what's your favorite scary movie?” 

“I didn't answer it because I can't choose,” you confess, scrolling through the paper you're writing for class. 

“Is your homework twenty questions?” soobins voice is muffled, annoyed and sleep-ridden. 

“No-” 

beomgyu cuts you off before you could explain, brows scrunching as he reads. “Looks like it, this one is ‘what are the rules around sex’ there is no way this actually for your class,” 

“What?” this pulls soobins head up, the messy strands of his dark hair sticking up around his forehead. 

“Of course you wake up when you hear the word sex,” yeonjun quips, pursing his lips reading over his work on his screen. 

“No need to wake up you type so loud i couldn't fall asleep,” soobin says brushing his long fingers through his hair, you always noticed the later it got the grumpier he became, pouting lips and half lidded eyes always making an appearance after midnight. 

“It's for my film studies class. We’re learning about the rules of horror,” its clarification enough for soobin who nods but beomgyu lets his head tilt to the side, the vision of a question mark. 

“Rules? You can't just send a killer in, have them spill some blood, and call it a day?” 

“You could, but i'm sure it would follow a pattern, even without you realizing it,” scrolling through your work you pause on the first option. “First you have to think about the time period when the movie was filmed. Most of the popular ones ranged from the 80’s to the early 2000’s. A huge push in most cultures is the topics of sex, drugs, and money. It's the three things people try to control the most. Throw a bunch of badly behaving teens in with a psycho killer playing god and you can tell the masses how wrong something is. Like having sex,” 

“So wrong it would get you killed?” 

“Yup, in most, if not all, horror movies the people who have sex on screen or are known for sleeping around get killed off, leaving the poor virgin alive. Main characters who live to the end also don't drink, or do drugs. Rich people aren't safe, especially if you have a big empty house with lots of stairs, doors, and windows. The more for you to make the wrong decision not to exit from,” 

“Then who does live?” Kai asks, game paused in hand. 

“The girl next door lead, never her boyfriend, the camera man, unless you see him leave the group because you should never leave the group under any circumstances. But everyone else is fair game. Oh and if you say ‘i'll be right back,’ the lines a killer in and of itself,” 

“So I'd die because I like to have a good time?” yeonjun asks, fingers paused on his keys as he looks over at you. Everyone but tae is turned in your direction, listening intently. 

“Unless you're the killer, or lucky because you weren't in line of the camera when you decided it was smart enough to leave the house. It's very kill or be killed. Another rule is to never trust anyone,” 

“The list just gets longer and longer,” soobin sits back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head as he stretches, “you know i saw this one post on twitter that some people like the whole masked killer thing, gets them off,” 

“Of course you would be on twitter looking at stuff like that,” gyu fakes disappointment, shaking his head, “this is exactly why you wouldn't survive, you're a closeted perv,” 

“I don't know about closeted perv, he was openly scrolling past hentai the other day in the dorm,” yeonjun is back to typing, soobin kicking the foot of his chair. 

“Past it, i didn't pause on it,” 

“It was on your for you page! Clearly you have a habit of liking things akin to it,” 

“I don't know, I think it's kinda hot, the mask thing. or i guess more so the build up of fear, it's almost like foreplay, your pulse starts going, you get all flushed. And I did see this clip of these two guys dressed up…” this wouldn't be the first time any of you confessed to watching something that turned you on. All of you had been friends for years, growing up nothing had ever been an off limits topic. You can see the video in your head, the way they held the girl between them; how they manhandled her down onto the bed. 

“So you and soobin are both freaks,” beomgyu grins, the need to tease showing right in his eyes. 

“A threesome is not freaky,” Taehyun states, breaking his silence, hat still over his eyes, fully relaxed and laid back. If you hadn't known the sound of his voice you would have assumed he was still asleep, if he had even been asleep in the first place. 

“Agreed, anything over three is a little freaky,” soobin shrugs, bending over halfway out of his chair to pick up his fallen pens. 

“So would you? Sleep with more than two people at once?” gyu asks, the tilt back to his head, “this is the true test if you're freaky or not,” he chuckles. 

“I mean yeah… would you?” The question is directed at the room and you watch the question lay over them like fog, each of them thinking for a second, blank expressions all the way around.

Taehyun was the first to respond, shrugging his shoulders before nodding briefly, “I wouldn't let the opportunity slip by if it was offered,” It was a unanimous yes from all of them, the hummed agreement not too surprising. 

“Done!” yeonjun smashes one last key before stretching big, “finally fucking submitted, and right before we have to leave, im surprised the staff hasnt gotten around to our room yet to kick us out,”

Taehyun pulls his hat from his face, sitting up with a yawn, “good, i needed my bed two hours ago,” 

It always felt so good to sleep in on a saturday after a study session like this, you could already feel how cozy it would be to wrap up in your blanket. And even if the mattress was shit with or without the foam topper, it was better than laying out in the chairs like taehyun just was.  

All of you cleaned up the space, making sure to tuck in the chairs, pick up the discarded cups of late night bad decision coffee. Squishing in the elevator together, bags bumping into one another before you filed out; passing all the empty desks and empty aisles of books to make it out the front door. 

As soon as the outside air hits your cheeks you know it’s going to feel like a long walk back to the dorms. the boys tucking their ears into hoodies, zipping their jackets up, you and kai lived in the dorms on the opposite side of campus from the rest of them, their walk shorter by only a few minutes. 

“Okay we’re still on for dinner tomorrow right?” Kai asks the group. 

beomgyu’s jumping on the balls of his feet to try to generate some warmth. “literally just text us, I cannot think about tomorrow when i’m this cold and sleepy,”

“Yes, we’re still on, I've been craving anything other than dining hall food for the past week,” yeonjun adds, shivering as he pulls the straps of his bag closer to his chest. “We'll still meet up back here like usual,” he was walking backwards as he said it, already a few steps behind the others, “but see you guys tomorrow or should I say ‘i’ll be right back!’” he jokingly yells while the others wave goodbye. 

“don’t play jjunie, you might be next! don’t trust anyone!” He gives you a silent salute in response as you and Kai head out for your walk. 

Instinctively the two of you are shoulder to shoulder, bumping into one another every other step. Silence following each muffled step on the pavement. Sometimes the two of you didn't say anything until you split on the elevators. a quick ‘goodnight’ or ‘see you tomorrow’ thrown out as you step out on your floor, waving as the doors closed back up so he could go up one more level. Other nights it was the two of you giggling trying to keep it down as you walked under the moonlight, too late to be loud. 

You wrap your arms around yourself, shivering as the wind hits the treeline. spots of orange light from the spaced out street lights are rare, casting the two of you in darkness every time the moon is behind the clouds; every several feet the hash light is back in your path. 

“So you'd live? In a horror movie?” Kai asks, hands shoved deep into his pockets, shoulders to his ears from the cold. The wind is hitting him right in the face, tossing his hair from his eyes where he liked to keep it. He asks it so softly, the question highlighted in the divot of his brow, nose pink, face washed in the glow from the moon. 

“I'm not really a virgin so…,” it's not an embarrassing confession but when it's this late with his eyes trained solely on you it's like a spilled glass of red wine on white sheets. Impossible to look away from. 

“You wouldn't live for knowing how people survive?” 

“The smart ones usually die from bad luck, they know to head for the car waiting in the lot but forget the keys or if the keys are still in the ignition they never check the back seat. They know if you run into the woods to escape you can hide, but how unlucky for a rusty forgotten bare trap to be waiting for your next step. or if you miss that one here's a log to trip over, only to tumble down a hill and break your neck. Call the police? You're in the one movie a phone works only for you to forget never trust anyone because the police work for the killer,” 

“So none of us make it?” It's such an open question the way he asks it, the hopeful twinge hitting the ending, twisting it into something it shouldn't be. Written right over his features the soft words unsaid, can't we? There has to be a way.

“This isn't a movie kai, we’re fine,” 

“I know, it's only a question,” he's so easily flustered when alone, second guessing everything he says, as if one slip up will make you hate him. Now he's blushing, both of you falling back into comfortable silence. You can tell he's thinking by the way he's biting at his cheek, eyes watching his feet, making sure not to miss one step. You assume it's the end of what he has to say, his silence following you all the way back to your floor. The elevator doors opened finally giving him the courage to speak up. “Do you…” 

“Hum?” you lift your arm to hold the doors open, turned to see him struggling to get the words out. 

“Do you want to come with me to my parents cabin,” he says it all in a rush, avoiding looking you in the eyes just in case you reject him. “I mean you don't have to, the guys won't be there and if it makes you uncomfortable-” he cuts himself off, hand at the back of his neck, trying to rub away his embarrassment, “forget it- forget i said anything,” 

“It's okay, I'd love to go. where is it?” 

“Um it's like two hours from campus, my parents need me to check on it just cause and i thought, why not make a weekend of it? I mean, you can finally sleep on a real mattress, not whatever was issued here,” 

A weekend away did sound good, perfect after the semester you were having. And Kai is as sweet as they come, spending time with him wouldn't be bad at all. “Sure, when are you thinking?” 

“Next week?” 

It was all so very innocent, a sweet boy asking a girl to join him on a weekend getaway. He even packed you snacks for the drive, let you pick all the music, and made sure to carry your bag in when you arrived. 

You weren't stupid enough not to realize why you were here and the other boys didn't get an invite. The whole week you thought it over, pushing around the idea of being with him. And you could tell he was tossing it around all throughout the drive, periodically blushing without saying a thing to you, hands tightening on the steering wheel; knuckles turning white from the pressure. 

Halfway through the drive you realized exactly what he meant by cabin. Not the kind sitting near the edge of a trail, but one hidden deep into the woods for perfect seclusion. Kai had a late class to make up for and the two of you didn't get started on the drive until the sun was already setting behind the trees. Every shadow thrown across the road drew longer and longer as the car kept on. 

The gravel driveway leading up to the cabin was a stretch, but when you finally broke past the winding path the gleaming two story was not very cabin like. The windows reflecting the cars headlights back at you expanded most of the first level. Wraparound porch dotted with chairs, and a swinging bench. As soon as kai killed the engine the silence stumbled in, darkness spilling over the scene as you climbed out of your seat. 

“This place is huge,” you whisper, as if anything louder would disrupt the peace of the outdoors. You held your phone's flash up in front of you, huening fumbling to put the key into the lock on the first try. Each attempt from his shaking hand failed.

“Here,” you took the key into your own hand, twisting the knob and pushing the door open. 

“Sorry,” his voice wavering as he flips on the light switch, “i'm just- you know-,” he cuts himself off not wanting any more embarrassment to follow him. 

As soon as the lights come on you can't see anything outside, the windows a reflection of the room. A tv hanging over a huge stone fireplace, welcoming couches spaced out in a semi circle around a wooden coffee table, a bar topped with dusty glasses pushed in the corner. Kai kicks off his shoes by the door, walking further in you notice the dark hallway leading deeper into the first floor, a staircase waiting right by the entrance. But kai ignores it all while walking towards the kitchen. 

“I mostly have to check the doors and windows to make sure no one broke in,” he's trying to fill the silence, rambling to kill his nerves,”one year we had someone steal the tv, we don't really leave much now just incase, so that's why it looks so empty,” 

“People actually drive all the way out here and break in? The last time i saw a turn off the road before this one was an hour ago,” 

“You never know, it's best to just check and fill out a report sooner rather than later,” in the kitchen the backdoor is made of two foggy planes of glass, only the outline of kai seen in the weavering shape. He twists the knob and to your surprise it gives way and opens, “damn one of my sisters must have forgotten to lock it last they were here,” You lean your hip against the kitchen island, taking his explanation as is. 

“They come out here to check too?”

“Rarely they mostly come with their friends but stopped when they realized there is zero phone service this far out,” 

“There isn't?” you hadn't even checked to see if your phone was working, “what if someone had broken in? You have no phone to make a call from,” 

He chuckles pointing past your shoulder, right on the end of the counter a sleek black cordless landline rests in its holder, the blinking red light showing one waiting voicemail. “Sometimes it can be spotty but for the most part its a solid line of communication,” 

Hand still on the knob of the backdoor he locks the door before walking over to the pantry, finding only a crate of dusty wine and a stack of old jiffy pop popcorn. 

“Wait, I didn't think they made these anymore,” you reach out for the thin metal handle attached to the panshapped popcorn container. Shaking it you hear the rattle of the kernels, “when i was younger i thought it was just something people had in movies,” 

“My sisters and i love the stuff, it's also easy to pop outside over the fire,” 

“So all you leave is popcorn and wine when you're not staying here?” you tap the crate of wine with your foot, his grin boyish and shy. 

“It's a good thing for us now i guess,” 

It's what leads you to sharing the bottle, passing it by the neck as he gives you a tour of the house. His lips right at the spout, nerves loosening up with each sip he takes, creaking steps leading up the second floor. “And here is my room,” 

It’s right at the end of the hall, bed neatly made with a single stuffed penguin sitting against the pillows. “You left him here all alone?” You ask, picking up the plushie, Kai's standing in front of the closet, the slatted doors making up most of the wall behind him facing the bed. 

He shrugs placing the half full wine bottle down on his dresser, “someone needed to protect my prize possession,” he falls right onto the mattress, head thrown back, hair spilling against the pillows, “i always sleep so good in this bed,” cheeks flushed from the wine, half lidded eyes watching you from under his lashes. It's an invitation you don't pass up. 

You climb in after him, feeling relaxed from drinking even if it was only a little bit, you can tell it's helped him too, his lazy smile so blissful. “I'm sure this bed is good for other things too,” you don't even care about being bold, not alone with him under you as you dip your head, nose brushing his. 

The first kiss is so soft, a brush of lips together lasting no longer than a second. Kai whines in the back of his throat, an ache for more hidden in the desperate sound. It's addicting to have someone seem so needy for your attention, his legs instinctively tangling with yours, hand at the back of your neck pulling you back down for another kiss.

The two of you fumbling to feel at each other, your hand sliding up under his shirt to touch his warm skin, his stomach flexing at the brush of your cold fingertips. His hand at your waist pulling you closer to him, needing you as close as he can get you. The kiss is sloppy in seconds, his tongue sliding against yours, noses bumping as you breath in each other.  You can feel that he's semi-hard, pressed against your thigh between his legs. 

He's a mess, whimpering when you pull away to take off your sweater, leaving you braless in a tank top. greedy hands back on you, pulling you back down on top of him, he’s grinding onto you desperately, fully hard from only kissing. 

every little noise he makes is caught in your mouth, his fingers fumbling for the button on your jeans. you have to pull away after his failed attempt, giggling as you brush his hair back, “it’s okay to take it a little bit slow huening we have all night,” you remind him, “I don’t want you cumming in your jeans when it could be in or on me,” he's looking up at you with total devotion, with an expression that lets you know he'd let you do anything if you asked. 

“Please?” and it doesn't even matter what he's begging for, you would let him do just about anything in return for looking at you like that. 

You're quick to rid yourself of your pants, falling back to the bed and letting him roll on top of you. Hands in his hair as he presses into you, one hand holding himself up while the other snakes down between you two. The soft gasp you let out eggs him on, drawing soft circles over your clothed clit like he knows exactly what to do. You twist your fingers into his hair, his lips tracing down your neck, hips back to grinding into your thigh. At first you don't notice the smell of popcorn. It's faint upstairs, wafting in through the vents, buttery and warm as kai slips his fingers into you. Your hips rolling on his hand, meeting every thrust, heel of his palm pressed to your clit. 

It isn't until the popcorn starts to burn that you say something, the tang in the air subtle as kai sucks hickeys on your sensitive skin. “Is something on fire?” 

Kai pulls away from the crook of your neck, “what the fuck?” breathing deeply to catch the scent. It's clear in the air now, hanging around like a question. “Stay here,” 

it's so unceremonious when he pulls his hand from your panties, fingers dropping onto his tongue to clear them, “i'll be right back, okay?” 

“O-okay,” you're confused more than anything, knees pulling in feeling overly exposed all of a sudden. It's silent in the house, the soundtrack of your kissing dimmed to nothing, before it's replaced with the creaking of his dissipating steps down the stairs. 

You feel a little foolish sitting in his bed, the crumpled sheets and discarded plushie a reminder that this is not normal for a hook up at all. Letting out a long breath you push out of the bed, all relaxation felt before now gone as you reach for the wine bottle on the dresser. You take a heavy swig from the bottle, needing your courage back. It felt silly to worry over burnt popcorn. 

Your stomach turns, sickening realization settling in. the two of you had only picked up the wine, neither of you even put the jiffy pop close to the stove's burners. You're quick to look for your phone, checking in the pile of your clothes on the floor, and finding nothing. Your bag was by the door downstairs, right next to the shoes, if your phone wasnt up here it was bound to be in your bag. 

You didn't say anything as you made it to the top of the stairs, not until the phone rang. Not the familiar song that came through your speakers but the deft echo of a warning siren. The kind of ringtone that was played in a movie when someone was receiving bad news, and it didn't stop, traveling up the stairs, playing once, twice, until nothing but silence. 

“Huening?” your voice wasn't as strong as you wished, faulting at the end as you took your first step down the stairs. 

No response. 

The last step creaks under your weight, the sound triggering the phone, that chilling ringtone back in the air. All the lights are on, nothing outside the windows visible as you watch your reflection walk past. You look right at the front door as you walk past, all of your things still in place, even Kai's shoes are still right where he left them. 

In the kitchen you find the ringing phone, the little screen bright green as it shows the incoming call. The skins faucet turned on, the pelting water beating down on the thin aluminum foil of the jiffy pop, hastily tossed into the basin. Thin rivulets of smoke still curling from the singed popcorn. The stove's gas burner still lit with a blue flame. 

The ringing continues as you turn everything off, feeling suddenly too cold and alone standing under the golden lights. It doesn't help that you're only dressed in your panties and tanktop, bare feet padding across the tile to pick you the phone. 

Unknown caller. Read the directory, not even the number shown underneath. You hit answer before you could think better of it. 

“Hello?” your pulse was in your ears, washing down your neck, but you're stunned to recognize the voice over the phone. 

“What's your favorite scary movie?” 

You can't help but laugh, the sound bubbling up before you respond, “kai, are you using the ghostface voice on me right now? You already had your hand down my pants no need for the theatrics,” 

You can't even pick up a trace of his real voice over the filter, the soft chuckle on the other line trickling down your spine. “You didn't answer my question, you have to have a favorite, what comes to mind?”

“So we’re quoting the movie now?” you ask, looking around the kitchen, leaning back against the countertop. “Should i go all in and start asking to make it to the sequel?” 

He chuckles, so soft and sensual, unlike his usual boisterous laugh. “Maybe…but a little birdie told me that you're not a virgin and you know what happens to those who sleep around right?” 

“Enlighten me,” you cross your arms smiling at your reflection in the window. It's a bit silly to be here roleplaying in the first place but it's not like you're against it. What gets you is that it's coming from kai of all people. So soft and sweet, giggling and shyly walking you home. But you truly never know what a persons into until you're faced first with it. 

“They don't last very long,” so smug as he says it. 

“They don't?” 

“Nope, and you have a list of things that you've already done wrong. I don't know if you truly deserve to make it to the sequel,” 

“Oh? What did I do wrong?” you smile, checking out your nails, thumb running along the bed of your cuticles as you listen. 

“Humm, let me see. First you're all alone in that big old house, did anyone ever tell you never to go into the dark and scary woods all alone?” 

“I'm not alone, i have you,” 

He ignores the last half of your statement, “Aren't you? hum, funny how i don't see the boytoy around anymore,” 

“I can't believe you planned all of this, who knew you would be so freaky? I can't say that it doesn't turn me on though,” 

“Oh? How cute that you still think I'm your little boyfriend. I mean didn't you see the signs? The door was unlocked in the back, popcorn on the stove when you didn't put it there, and now a missing boy toy. It's a shame you seem to have forgotten everything you've learned in class, or maybe it was the wine,” 

“A few sips won't make me stupid, seriously huening come out, i want to get back into your bed,” you push off the counter, walking back toward the living room until you're stopped dead in your tracks. The sound isn't coming from the phone but just up ahead around the corner.

Your laugh echoes in the empty house, followed by your own words, “it’s okay to take it a little bit slow huening, we have all night, I don’t want you cumming in your jeans when it could be in or on me,” 

You follow each line into the living room, the tv on and showing a video of only minutes ago. 

“Please?” kais weavering voice seems so loud here instead of between you two. 

You can see yourself push down your pants, watch the way the two of you fall right back into each other. Only now you're seeing it from the perspective of the closet, it's the only place you could think of that he would have placed the camera. The slats of the wood even in frame. It's like someone dropped a bucket of ice water on top of you. Standing in front of the tv as if you're Carrie from the prom and someones set up a cruel joke. 

“Cute huh?” the voice over the phone asks, that little laugh following right after, “i sure think it is. Look at the way your body reacts to his fingers, you’ll be that pretty for me won't you?” 

You feel the hair on the back of your neck rise, the house too big for this kind of game. Even just standing there now alone it felt like you were a fish in a bowl, stuck to be watched from all sides. And not from the video but from the figure standing right on the outside of the window. 

He was dressed in all black, nothing like what kai had been wearing before. And covering his face the dripping white mask of ghostface. You only catch a glimpse because the lights are on but it's enough to remind you that maybe this isn't a joke. “Are you outside?” 

“I don't know? Am i?” but as he says it you see down the hallway a dark figure step out of a doorway. 

Everything in you freezes, your heart rate plummeting, a cold sweat breaking out across your skin. You hadn't even noticed your fingers had been trembling before, not until your deathgrip on the phone starts to hurt. “Don't hang up on me,” he warns over the line, but the person down the hall doesnt even have a phone in sight, his slow prowl reminding you to move. 

You take off back towards the kitchen, the back door playing in your head as the best possible exit but as soon as you're in front of it, tugging on a door knob needs to be unlocked you see the haze reflection of two more figures waiting right against the glass. You can hear the laugh of the person on the phone even if it's not to your ear as you rush to pull open any drawer that might have something in it to protect you. But every pull leads you to find nothing at all, “what the fuck!” 

The door shakes as they try to pull it open, the glass rattling as you lift the phone back to your ear, “okay huening, that's enough, i get it, ha ha, funny, but seriously-” 

“Were you looking for a knife?” he cuts you off, voice so calm when you're falling apart. 

“What?” you're exasperated, huffing the question like it's a slap in the face. 

“I know where one is, if you want it,” 

It's then that the masked man from the hall comes into the kitchen, the steel knife in his hands glinting in the light. “You have to be fucking kidding me right now,” youre desprate to find an explanation for this. The island is between the two of you, his head tilting to the side, the open mouth of the mask mocking you as he takes slow steps around the marble. You're matching his every move, both of you circling the kitchen like two fighters waiting for the ding of a bell. 

The door rattles again, the sound making you yelp, hand pressed to your racing heart. It's the distraction you need to bolt right through the kitchens arch way and run to the front door. 

You're moving so fast you have little time to slow down, partially slamming into the door, fingers fast to twist the locks. 

As soon as it's opened you're standing face to face with another ghostface mask, his black clad outfit sticking to his figure as he towers over you, phone hovering right over the mask's gaping mouth. “Hum not out the front door i guess,” 

You try to slam the door shut but his boot clad foot moves fast catching it right before it could close completely. Spinning you run towards the stairs, the sound of their following footsteps close behind. The door to the bedroom is still wide open as you barrel through turning around and throwing the door closed and twisting the lock. 

But it's only a moment of relief when you feel a hand clasp around your mouth. Your scream is muffled from their fingers, your eyes closing as if that would fix the situation, the phone in your hand falling to the floor, “Shhh it's okay,” Kai whispers, a strong arm wrapping around your middle pulling you closer to him. 

The weight is lifted off your shoulders hearing his voice, hands wrapping around the one covering your mouth to tug it away. “What is going on?” you ask, pulling yourself away from him. your back is to the door and he steps closer backing you right up against it. 

“Didn't you say you found it kinda hot, the whole fear thing?” he asks, leaning close enough to kiss, “i wanted to make it extra special for you, and you don't mind if we all share you, right?” his knuckle lifts your chin up so you’re eye to eye, nose to nose, his normal shy smile turned devilish. “All you have to do is say no,” 

It was crazy to say yes. your heart still pounding, breathing only just starting to regulate, and yet you want him, you want them. “I-I don’t- I don’t want to say no,” 

“Then don’t,” he pushed his whole body against yours, engulfing you in his warmth, taking you for another kiss like you hadn’t left the room at all. You don't even notice him unlocking the door, not until the knob is shaking against your back. 

Kai pulls you towards the bed, the closet doors behind him open showing the empty space with a lone camera on a tripod. The red light looking back at you like a warning, you looked right down the barrel of the lens wondering if you would ever see this again, and praying that you did. Kai fit his fingers over you eyes, “don't look at it, don’t think about its there,” 

You hear a chuckle, so similar to the one over the phone, only without the filter. Now so easily recognizable as yeonjun, you can picture the way his mouth looks as he does it, his canines on display as he smirks. You don't even have to see him to know, you've known all of them so long you're sure one touch and you could guess who was who. And with both of kais hands on your eyes the brush of someone's fingers on your cheek lets you know exactly who it is. Soobins hands are the softest of the bunch and your face tilts in his direction. “Soobin?”

he lets out a huff of a laugh, “you caught me. And you know it's kind of rude not to open the back door when we come knocking,” 

“You scared me,” it's a soft confession that they all chuckle at. 

“Did we?” beomgyu teases, so much closer than you expected, the ghost of his touch going up your arm, goosebumps popping up along the trail. 

Your senses are on overdrive, pulse loud enough to be heard if one listens close enough, every little thing heightened by your fading fear and covered eyes. You feel a hand slip down your stomach stopping right before your panty line, a single finger sliding under the waistline to pull it and let it snap back against your skin. You jolt from the contact, body flush with kai’s, his hard cock pressed to your back. 

You hear rustling from the closet, and kai lets you go, letting you see yeonjun taking the camera in hand. He's adjusting the viewfinder, the others standing in a circle around you, it should be intimidating, the masks off now, looking at you like you're something to eat. It's taehyun that steps forward first, thumb reaching out to drag across your bottom lip. You open your mouth letting him press the digit flat against your tongue. 

“You’ll be good for us, won't you?” he asks, and you close your mouth sucking his finger as you nod. He smirks, “i want first,” 

It's all he says before he's pushing you down on the bed. It's so quick the air is almost knocked right out of you, your hands scrambling to find purchase on the beds duvet cover. It's almost a shame how wet you already are, the way your panties are cut away, the cold knife in taehyuns free hand only just brushing your skin. The fabric tossed around from person to person. “I did most of the work,” kai adds as you bury your face into the sheets, “she wouldn't be this prepped if i didn't start early,” 

“And that's why you have to wait,” “You didn't even get her off,” they talk over each other.  

“You guys didn't give me time!” kai tries but they ignore him when you give a sharp whine. 

Taehyun shoves his fingers right into you, your body so willing to take him in. but you hear his belt being undone with one hand, and it's a shame you cant see the way his cock looks from this angle, because as he pressed the tip right at your entrance, slick fingers helping to lude up his veiny shaft, you can tell he's going to be the perfect stretch. 

Your moan as he sinks into your warm heat is echoed by the rest of them, a choir of the perfect voices turned husky and wanting. “Holy shit,” teahyun breathes his hand pressed right to your lower back, your feet dangling right off the edge of the bed, toes only just barely touching the ground. 

“Doesn't she feel amazing?” kai asks, “fuck i bet she fits like a fucking dream,” gyu adds as he walks over to the other side of the bed climbing in to lay against the headboard. His zipper was already undone, pants low on his hips as he watched you get pounded into. 

Because tae was not holding back anymore, it felt like he had been waiting all night for this exact moment, to chase his high without question. And your pussy was so welcoming, sucking him in, practically begging for his cum. 

Yeonjun walked around the bed, zeroing the camera in on you as your legs bend, heel of your feet pushing on taes thighs. Taehyun wraps his hands in your hair, tugging your head back, extending your throat to the camera, arching your back just right, “i want to be able to watch back how you looked while i fucked you okay?” 

“Oh, look at that, huening marked up our toy already,” soobin reaches out a finger, tracing over the hickey kai had left on your skin, your eyes were wide and begging as you watched him, mouth caught open in a moan as taes thrusts turned sloppy. “Fuck, look at that mouth,” 

yeonjun bent down to catch the image. “I think someone needs to fill it,” 

Soobin didn't need to be told twice. He was tugging his cock out of his jeans, leaking precum already dotting the tip as he gave it long languid strokes. Your mouth was already watering at the sight, knowing taking him down your throat would be a task but one you wouldn't back away from. 

But taehyun was already cumming, orgasm cresting as he slammed his hips into your ass, cock twitching as he let out a deep rumbling moan. He let go of your hair, head falling forward into the duvet as he stilled inside you pressing as close as he could get, the tip of his cock hitting you just right as he spilled inside you. 

“I want next!” gyu calls out, raising his hand like he knows the answer to a question. 

“No-” soobin starts but beomgyu is already moving from his stop on the bed as taehyun pulls out, the gush of warmth leaving your cunt dripping down your thighs. Yeonjun is quick to catch the sight on film. 

“Look at that,” it sounds so endearing coming from him, a true sight to behold as you whine from the feeling of being empty. You feel like a ragdoll as soobin pulls on you, tugging you further up the bed so that you're on your hands and knees in front of him. 

“Open,” his tip is already prodding at your lips. You feel the bed dip behind you, gyu finding his place as he drags his fingers through the leaking cum traveling down your legs, he does his best to shove it right back into you, fingers dragging over your clit, circling it as soobin shoves his cock right into your mouth. 

You give a muffled yelp, tongue flattening to make it easier for him to slide in and out of. His head is rolling back, hair spilling around his ears as he moans. He twists his fingers in your hair, both hands wrapping around your head to bob you up and down on his dick like his own personal toy. You're nails dig into the sheets, the sloppy sounds of him fucking your throat taking up the most sound. 

Beomgyu keeps one hand on your clit and the other guides his cock into you, he's quick to snap his hips forward sending you forward on soobin, until you're choking for air. Moans sending vibrations up along soobins shaft. His eyes tighten, needing to pull away before he cums too quickly, face flushed red as rivulets of your saliva still connect you to him. 

The constant pressure put on your clit from beomgyus fingers has your stomach tightening in knots. Now that you're not taking soobin in beomgyu picks up his pace, the skin on skin slapping sounds melding with your whines. “I want you to cum for me, i want to be the first one to make you cum, please,” he sounds so desperate, not matching the way he drills into you, tip hitting your cervix in a mix of painful pleasure. He can feel your fluttering walls, every particularly hard thrust making your cunt react just right. And when you cum hes a blubbering mess, “fuck fuck fuck-” not expecting to cum so fast, but youre drawing it out of him, with each little sound you make. He's almost embarrassed by how long he cums for, head falling forward to rest on your shoulder blade, his dick pulsing inside you, curses turning to nonsense, the drawn out, “fuuu- ahh, ah,”  

“Look at how pretty she looks when she cums,” yeonjun smiles, bringing the camera close to catch the way you are trying to blink the spots from your vision, “soobin next? Or maybe kai? Both of them seem to have waited so long for you,” 

Kai leans back against the dresser, arms crossed as he watches you, expressionless as he follows the shape of your body. Only one of your tank tops straps are on, your breasts already spilling out from the thin fabric, soobins eyes caught on your peaked nipples as he strokes himself. But you look back over to huening, the way he's standing there like he's unaffected at all. But you know it's not true, not when he's straining in his pants, the bulge itself drives you insane. “Hyuka?” 

The shyness in your voice is what does it for him, beomgyu only just pulling out of you with a hiss. More cum dribbling out as he pushes his hair back looking at his handiwork. Yeonjun is right next to him too, getting the perfect shot. 

Taehyun languidly lounges back against the headboard, cock still hard as it rests against his stomach, hand wrapped around the base as he watches you. It distracts you enough not to see kai moving replacing gyus spot. 

Kai wraps his hand in your hair but unlike taehyun he forcefully pushes your head down into the mattress. The whole mit of his hand cups your skull, your whimper making him chuckle. His free hands traced up your side, slipping under your tank top as he feels along your skin. “You know I was thinking about this the whole walk back after our study night?” his hand dips down fingers sliding along your wetness, “i kept thinking about how perfect it would be to absolutely ruin you,” 

You're already sensitive from finishing already and kai can tell as your thighs tremble but it wont stop him from pinching your clit. Your hips push back against him, yelping as he goes on to rub circles over the bundle of nerves. “Seeing it happen- watching you get used as a little cum dump is so much better than I ever imagined,” he works your clit, building up his speed until your back is arching, nails biting into your palm as you feel your orgasm building too quickly. You're trying to rock back into his hand but the way he has you bent helps very little. Your cries heighten until he pulls it all away. 

“No huening please!” 

“Aww how cute, she's begging,” beomgyu laughs and you're whimpering in response. 

“Kai…please!” 

“You're already doing so well because i want you begging to be filled with my cum, crying from how badly you want it,” his hand goes back to your cunt, pressing into your clit rubbing at a pace that has you seeing stars, your hands scratch out for looking for anything to hold onto. Yeonjun takes your hand in his keeping the camera facing your reaction as your eyes roll back. Its in the middle of your climax that kai pushes his cock into you, finding a punishing rhythm as he fucks you into the matterss. 

“Beg for it,” he growls, hand in your hair twisting in the strands. You can feel him all the way to your throat, stretched out so good, he presses right into your gspot like he was made for you. 

“P-please- hyuka i need it- i-” you cant even get the words out anymore, the squeaking of the bed building as he increases his speed. You can hear the wet sounds of the other boys jerking off, “i want your c-cum, i need it,” 

“Louder,” yeonjun mutters in front of you, your death grip on his hand not loosening anytime soon. 

“I want it! I need your cum, please!” But Huenings is so lost chasing his own high that he drops his hand from your clit to grab your hip, his bruising hold and brutal thrusts making you cry out. 

Beomgyu reaches down under you, fingers finding just the right rhythm to send you over the edge at the same time kai cums. His faltering thrusts and throaty moans makes you feel weak. Your cunt is strangling his cock, his release pushed as deep as he could get it into you. When he pulls out you collapse onto the bed, completely used up. 

It feels never ending body too tired already when you feel soobin climb into the bed. He lays right behind your exhausted form, both of you on your sides facing yeonjun, “look who's next, do you think you could get another one out of her? I hear you're only a freak in theory and not practice,” 

But soobin doesn't take the bait, one hand sliding under you and wrapping around your chest, hand coming up to cup your breast, fingers twisting your hard nipple, and the other lifting your leg to get better access to your leaking cunt. Your thighs are so sticky soobins fingers slip on his hold, having to tighten his grip to make sure he can keep you open. He's been ready since the start, his cock aching as it prods your now puffy swollen cunt, so used you're sure you would be sore for days. 

When he sinks in your whimpers are so soft they are hardly heard. Yeonjun is kneeling on the floor, arm holding the camera resting on the bed. He captures the way soobins dick slides in with ease, no resistance now with how much slick is coming out of you. Every drag of soobins cock comes away stained in white. A ring of the combined cum circling the base, balls sticking to your skin with every thrust. 

His breathy moans are lost against your neck, pitiful little sounds before he's muttering, “im sorry, oh god- im-” 

“Don't you dare cum yet,” yeonjun warns soobin, who pauses his thrusts trying to listen but can't find it in him to restrain. Yeonjuns fingers pinch at your clit, your whole body reacting to the feeling, jolting you back to life as you cum. soobin unable to handle the pressure and is a complete mess, whimpering as he pulls you closer, hugging you as if he could merge bodies. 

It took him a while to finally pull out, a much needed break for only a few breaths before yeonjun passes the camera to taehyun to keep the filming going. You can feel the weakness all the way down to your bones, sure if you stand you could collapse to the floor, legs too weak to hold you up. But yeonjun is looking at you like you're being served on a silver platter, all done up with all the best fixings. 

“Best for last huh?” he grins climbing over you brushing under your eye to catch a single tear that's fallen from your overstimulation. “Its so fun to see you so dumb on cock, so unlike how we usually see you,” 

You hum in response as he pushes your legs open, hands at the back of your knees pushing them to your chest. When he puts them over his shoulders you whimper, reaching out to wrap your arms around his neck as he sinks into your wet heat. Bent in half you feel your toes curling, sure that if you came one more time you would be better off sleeping for the next year. “I think this is good practice, don't you?” he asks like you'll respond to him with anything other than a string of muffled whimpers. Your body is coated in a thin layer of sweat, sticking to his skin as he takes a slow pace. It's like he's apologizing, lips peppering across your cheek, down your neck. “We’ll keep you so happy, stuffed full like you deserve. Would you like that?” 

You're nodding, eyes closing as he uses you. You don't even notice the way your body is reacting, that slow rise of your next orgasm building up, “i-” you can’t think about cumming again already feeling so dumbed out. 

“Hum? Are you going to cum, pretty?” he picks up his pace, sinking his hips and hitting you right against your g spot. Your head rolls back as it washes over you, body tightening until you feel like you’ve combusted into little particles. “Oh look at that, so perfect for me, your pussy feels so good when it's squeezing me like this,” it's all he says before he’s trembling, a guttural moan taking over as he cums, you swear you can feel its warmth spreading throughout you. And when he pulls out he takes the camera back from taehyun focusing it in on the sight of all the combined release staining your folds. 

“Look at how she pushes it out,” beomgyu says, mesmerized by the way you look leaking so much cum. But it's Kai who leans down, fingers collecting anything he can before shoving all the cream right back into you. “Its almost like she wants us to fuck it right back in,” 

🏷taglist: @kissmekissykissme @bts-txt-ateez @apeachty @stwq2349 @isa942572 @tomorrowxforever r @beestvng @soobingf-blog @lovinjjong @lola-horore-553 @cypher-03 @midnight-mochii i @hueningwhy @choibeomning @soobinbunnie5 @yunjinswifee @cupidtaehyun @bamgeutsz @prince-jjae @nessaassen02 @iluvhyukaa @mrsjohnnysuh @wand3rlustm3

thank you so much to @beomiracles @prince-jjae and @thetxtdevil for beta/proofreading the first part of this fic!

[robo-writing]

Okay, now I need a fic based on the session the reader and Logan has when he was slapped. Like the thought of her passing out and he still continued to fuck her? And her coming too and he’s just pumping her full of his come? Lord have mercy 😩🤤

me getting this anon while i was knee-deep in writing angst is something so funny to me, crying my eyes out then opening my inbox to see this gave me mental whiplash like you can’t believe He barely sounds human, more man than beast. The weight of him pins you into the bed, unable to move. The creaking of the bed, your weak cries, his downright animalistic grunts of pleasure as he thrusts into your tired, achy cunt—you two sound like a cheap porno, and not in a good way.

You have no one else to blame for the six foot wall of muscle that pins you to the bed, holds your hands behind your back and fucks you like he’s got something to prove. His hips meet your backside again, and again, and again—each thrust leaving your ass raw.

You don’t know how long it’s been since he’s put you on your stomach, and you don’t care to know; all you want is for him to keep going. Hell, you’re not sure Logan would stop even if you begged him.

Reduced to his animal instincts, if he’s not panting in your ear like a bitch in heat he’s mumbling the filthiest fucking words into your skin, tongue lapping at the salt that clings to it.

“Mine, mine, mine,” he groans, each word emphasized by the sound of skin slapping on skin. “My girl, mine to fuck, mine to breed.”

It genuinely hurts to breathe, but all you scratching at his arms does is spur him even further. Eventually you give up, lie back like a good little whore and let him fuck you until either you pass out or he runs out of energy.

Unsurprisingly, option A seems to happen first.

A few spots in your vision, a ringing in your ears, then nothing. An unknown time passes, and you wake up in the same spot as before, spread open and speared on Logan’s magnificent dick.

At least from what you can gather he’s a bit more put together now, still pumping himself inside your warm walls, but much less violent than he was before. You feel the familiar thrum of orgasm on the horizon, an odd sort of pleasure-pain that keeps you aware long enough to listen to your boyfriend speak.

“‘M sorry baby, fuck, just couldn’t stop,” he says, kissing up and down your spine in apology, still chasing after his own high with each word. “Feel too good, so, so good, goddamn—“

He’s stuttering, cutting himself off, unable to string together a full sentence. You chance a glance at him and fuck, he’s a goddamn mess. Sweat dripping from his brow, muscles flexing so hard you could count each vein, a rosey blush running from his face to his chest—he looks like he’s just came from hell and back. Damn near incoherent, whispering sweet nothings into your shoulder—

“Lemme come in you baby, just one more time, one more fuckin’ time—“

It’s a rhetorical question at this point; like you ever had a choice with the way his cum drips from your cunt. So full of him that each thrust pulls more out of you, only to be replaced. He’s had to have cum inside of you multiple times, the sloppy sound of it mixing with the sound of his balls slapping against your ass.

And yet, he keeps on going.

An urge to control, to keep, a need to stuff his cock inside of you and have you know exactly who it is that has your pussy creaming for him.

[luvmahae]

where you are ‣ lee haechan smau

summary: what the absolute fuck is up baby! fall semester marks the peak of greek life at ncu. the campus quad is filled with tents representing various fraternities and sororities with their letters proudly presented in front of each booth, all eager to recruit new members. as students return to campus, they are met with a flood of fliers and invitations to parties, mixers, and rush events. while you were walking through the crowd of eager freshmen to join these organizations, you bumped into someone very unexpected...

what do you do when you bump into the guy you hooked up with after a music festival during summer break? instead of the royal blue basketball jersey you first met him in, it was replaced by a varsity jacket with the letters reading "ΝΧΘ".

"haechan?"

pairing: fratboy!haechan x fem!reader

genre: smau, non-idol au, college au, fluff, nsfw/suggestive (mdni!) comedy, humor, slight slowburn, strangers to lovers, rave bae core? (am i in love with you or is it just the drugs?)

warnings: mentions of alcohol/substance usage (marijuana, mdma/ecstasy, lsd, cocaine), profanity, jokes about sex and death thrown around, both groups are out of pocket and tmi doesn't exist apparently... no ones safe! the boys gc is kinda questionable (this is where i say men deserve no rights!), haechan x reader met at an edm festival (the term rave bae will be said here and there. rave bae is someone you meet unexpectedly while raving, kinda like your temporary s/o for the duration of the rave or festival... smth like that!) disclaimer notice: these portrayals are fictional and are not intended to encourage or glamorize substance use.

playlist: where you are - john summit | club classics - charli xcx | intimidated - kaytranada, h.e.r. | high and i like it - it's murph, evalyn | what a life - john summit, stevie appleton | saving up - dom dolla | talk talk - charli xcx, troye sivan | mr useless - shygirl, sg lewis, club shy | atmosphere - fisher, kita alexander | thinking about you - calvin harris, ayah marar | gas pedal remix - john summit, subtronics, tape b, sage the gemini

notes: omg!!! my first post ever... honestly i've been debating to do this for a long time... now here i am :D ngl i lowkey based this off a personal experience (i am a changed woman now okay... spare me! 😭) my first lil fic dedicated to haechan!!! the playlist is highly edm biased with a sprinkle of brat. i just think it fits the vibe so well hehe. open to feedback and enjoy!!! ♡

status: ongoing!

taglist: closed!

profiles: live laugh love y/n (1), john summit fanboys (2)

intro: so.... edc next year?

one: comedown

two: wtf is college

three: boutta fuckin jump (written)

four: y/n’s eras tour

five: is my brain braining?

six: heyyyyyy 👀

seven: i know what u are…

eight: tequila ftw (written)

nine: ot3 timeout

ten: i want u 😩

eleven: drunk olympics

twelve: stuDYING

thirteen: agram 🙏😭

fourteen: gn haechan (written)

fifteen: team y/n

sixteen: options

seventeen: u did ur big one 😞

eighteen: h for harry styles

nineteen: kms postponed! (written)

twenty: haechan x y/n crumbs

coming soon!

twenty-one:

twenty-two:

twenty-three:

twenty-four:

twenty-five:

twenty-six:

twenty-seven:

twenty-eight:

twenty-nine:

thirty:

[sturnsdarling]

I don't know how to forget you

matt and y/n have been best friends their whole life, but after a drunken kiss and a night of tangled limbs, everything is changing.

vibe check: smut throughout (pretty equal sex dynamic, softdombutneedy!matt / subbutdeviant!reader), fluff, (resolved) angst, childhood best friends to idiots to idiots in love, y/n is scared of love (aren't we all), soft!matt, depressed!matt/reader, soppy confessions of love

this is a long one, kids: 12k words.

A/N: I LOVE THEM!! anyways this whole thing is based on one of my favourite songs of all time so if you don't know then get to know. I had so much fun writing this so I hope you love it as much as I do. IDIOTS IN LOVE SUPREMACY🗣 also tysm for over 200 followers you guys are insane

moodboards for this fic

love and cigs, merc

You burst into the house back first, Matts hands clawing at your waist and his lips moving against yours in a clash of teeth and tongues, your arms draped over his shoulders as your hands desperately clung to his messy brown hair.

He kicked the door shut with his foot, one hand coming to your jaw to pull you into him deeper. You both clumsily walked towards his bedroom, Matt leading you backwards with closed eyes, just about missing the couch. Your hands left his hair and found the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it up over his head with vigour, breaking the kiss for a brief moment before crashing back into each other. Heavy breathing and small moans were the only sound in his house as he attempted to unbutton your shirt, not yet breaking the kiss and fumbling at the tiny circles that kept your body from him. He groaned into the kiss in frustration, biting your lip slightly before tearing your shirt open in one fowl rip. You chuckled into the kiss, Matt followed suit and your back hit the hard wood of his bedroom door, your arm frantically finding the door handle behind you.

When you finally gained entrance, still locked in an all consuming make out session with Matt, you slipped your hands between your bodies and began to untie the knot in his joggers, his whole body twitching at the sensation. Matt broke the kiss, panting, his forehead leaning on yours. 

“I thought you said we weren’t gonna do this anymore” He said through frantic breaths, his lips still brushing yours. 

“I know what I said” you muttered, finally undoing the bow that acted as the gatekeeper between your hand and his aching length, the swift insertion of your cold hand into his warm boxers acting as a mic drop to your statement as you pulled him into you once more. 

“So” Matt pulled away for a brief moment, missing the heat from your plump lips and kissing you before he spoke again, “what’re we doin” he panted. 

“Just shut up and kiss me, Matt” you shook your head, wrapping your hand round the back of his head, nearly giving him whiplash at the speed you pull his lips back to yours. 

One month earlier 

You and Matt had been seeing each other for about six months, it all started as an innocent drunken kiss at a birthday party, that same night ending with you underneath him on his satin sheets, getting pounded into at a rapid rate. You had both decided that, as two consenting adults (your exact words when you propositioned him the idea) you should start sleeping with each other on a regular basis. What was the harm right? The sex was good, you knew each other inside and out, having been friends for basically your whole lives, and you knew that no matter what happened, you’d always love each other unconditionally. 

At first it was amazing, the sex was obviously incredible and, outside of the bedroom, basically nothing changed. No one had even noticed a difference between you two, your dynamic already being touchy and somewhat flirty prior to your decision to hook up every so often.

Despite the occasional stolen glance and white knuckled night out from being forced to watch one another get hit on by random strangers at bars, it was honestly really normal, at least it felt that way.

Being with Matt was easy, he was kind and caring, being around him was like being with yourself, there was no bullshit and no expectations. You just, saw each other, truly and completely. 

As time went on, the sex became something more, it stopped being about simply acting on an urge and started being about the closeness. The intimacy of it all. You craved him, and he was addicted to you. He stopped flirting back with the girls that pushed themselves against him at bars, and you stopped entertaining the boys that bent over backwards to get your attention. Neither of you had noticed it at first but, no one was interesting anymore. No one understood you like the two of you did, no one even came close. No one could make you laugh like he did, and no one could bring him out of his own head like you could. No one knew your body like him, and vice versa, and soon enough, the sex started to change the way you saw each other. 

Instead of seeing Matt, your childhood best friend and the kid that accidentally broke your arm by landing on you at the bottom of a snowy hill when you were kids; you saw Matt, a lingering presence of safety in a crowed room and a blissful night of endless orgasms. Instead of seeing you, the fourth wheel in his little family and the girl that bullied him for being five foot nothing until he was sixteen, he saw you, a beaming ray of light in his life and the sexiest woman he’d ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on. 

The shift didn’t seem to matter, as far as you were both aware, nothing had changed. That was until one night when you were hanging out with Matt as you always did:

You and Matt were half naked, tangled up in one another on his bed, watching gravity falls for the billionth time and enjoying each others company.

You were rested against his headboard, clad in his t-shirt and your underwear, and he was rested in-between your legs, his bare back comfortably wedged between your thighs as his long, plaid pyjama pant covered legs spread over the length of his bed. Matt turned his head to the side, peppering a small kiss on the side of your leg before shifting to lift himself up off his bed, the loss of his warm pressure against you almost painful. 

“m’gonna go get a drink, baby, y’want anything?” He said, standing up and hovering next to the bed. 

You shook your head, looking up at him, “I’m good, thank you”. 

“Okay” he leant down, the weight of his arms making the bed shift under you as he placed a tender kiss on your lips, your mouths slotting together effortlessly. 

He walked out the room and the door clicked shut. In your momentary solitude, the game changing realisation infiltrated your brain.

He just called you baby, and not when you were fucking, he called you baby like, like it was your name, like it was the easiest thing to call you in that moment, like it felt right to him so he did it, or even worse, that he didn’t even think about it, like that’s who you are to him.

A sudden wave of panic came over you, the events of the last however many months flashing through your brain. The longing looks, the small jealous comments that went over your head, the lingering touches when you were with your friends, his desperation for you after being apart for any longer than a couple days. All of it started to come together in your mind as one big puzzle of ‘holy fucking shit he has feelings for me, and not just I care about you as a friend but I also wanna fuck you feelings, real feelings’. That wasn’t the scary part though, the scary part was how effortless it felt, to you. How it all just made sense with him, how it was never weird or awkward, how you felt completely safe with him, how you felt genuinely and utterly, loved by him. 

Your rapid mind was interrupted by Matt walking back into the room. 

“Chris drank all the fuckin’ soda already, kids an addict I swear to god” he said, holding a glass of lemonade.

You chuckled slightly at his remark, your eyes fixated on your fingers as you picked and pulled at the skin of your thumb. Matt fell backwards onto the bed, half his weight on your legs. The pressure suddenly made you uncomfortable and, without really thinking about it, you pulled your legs from under him and tucked them under yourself. The movement made Matt turn up to look at you, finally noticing your weird demeanour. You never pulled away from him, if anything you did the opposite, especially when you were alone. Matts brows furrowed as he turned to lay on his stomach. 

“Hey, you okay?” He asked softly, rubbing a gentle finger on your leg.

You shifted under his touch again, which worried him, a lot. He shifted and raised himself up to sit in front of you. He hooked a finger under your chin and lifted your head up. 

“What’s the matter?” He questioned, his voice thick with concern. 

You shook your head, his baring blue eyes making you feel claustrophobic in your own skin.

“m’fine” you said, attempting to look away from him. 

Your energy was jarring, and Matt was utterly confused, what the fuck had happened in the maybe twenty-seconds he had been gone and why were you suddenly acting like you didn’t even want to look at him? 

“Y/n/n, I know when you’re lying, what’s wrong?” He said, trying to find your eyes again. 

You didn’t reply, only returned to picking at your thumbs. Matt simply stared at you, unable to understand why you were suddenly a tense and anxious ball of energy. 

After what felt like an eternity, you broke the silence, your voice coming out in a choked strain. 

“I don’t think I can do this anymore, Matt” your eyes didn’t leave your skin. 

Those nine words hit matt like a bus, knocking the wind out of him as his mouth parted in a feeling he could only describe as agony. 

“Do what? As in, do this” he said, gesturing to himself and then to you. 

You finally raised your head to look at him, a deep sadness hiding behind your emotionless face. “I don’t think it's a good idea, it’s gone on for way longer than either of us expected, and—“ you huffed, “I just can’t do it anymore” you tore your gaze from him, incapable of the decency it took to look him in the eye as you tore his heart from his chest. 

“wh—“ Matt muttered, “where the fuck has this come from?” He shook his head, eyes squinting and brows scrunching together. 

You didn’t reply, only shifted in your own skin. Your aloofness was like sand paper against Matts skin, he barely recognised you. His mind raced with the endless mind boggling possibilities as to why you didn’t want to be with him anymore, but they all centred into one crippling thought. 

“Is there someone else?” He said, his voice dropping an octave. 

“No” you said immediately, the ‘there could never be anyone else’ staying tucked between your teeth as your head shot up to look at him. 

“So what is then? Did I— did I do something?” His tone faltered, coming out as almost apologetic. 

You shook your head, gnawing at the inside of your cheeks, “I just — you — I — ” you couldn’t find the words to make it make sense, because it didn’t, it didn’t make sense, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of the walls closing in around you. 

“Y/n/n” your name rolled off his tongue like honey, his head shifting on his shoulders towards you slightly, his brows still knit firmly together in confusion that looked a lot like sadness. 

“I have to go” you said, unable to look at him for a second longer in fear of bursting into tears. 

“Wait—” he said, reaching out for you as you climbed off the bed and picked up your jeans that were sprawled across the floor.  

“Matt, I have to go” you cut him off, picking up your things and hurrying out the door, not looking at him for even a split second. 

You shut the door behind you and he opened it almost immediately, following you out into his kitchen, watching as you raced down the stairs.

“Y/n” he called out your name, but your pace didn’t falter, and in a flash and a slam of his front door, you were gone. 

He stood at the top of the stairs, blinking at the closed door a head of him. 

On the sofa, Chris and Nick were staring at him, waiting for him to say something and sharing flitting glances back and forth with one another. 

“What the fuck was that about?” Chris said, breaking the deafening silence. 

“Is she okay?” Nick followed his brothers questioning. 

“I have no idea” Matt said, that simple fact being the only thing he did know. 

You threw yourself into your car, slamming the door shut. The sound rang through your ears and the silence that filled the vehicle after was enough to send you tumbling into your sadness. Tears brimmed at your eyes as heavy, fast pants rapidly escaped your nose, you felt awful, you had no idea what you were doing, why did you leave like that? Why didn’t you just talk to him, he’s your best friend, why didn’t you just say something? Anything? What would you even say? I think you’re in love with me and I’m terrified that I love you too? Being with you like this has been the best six months of my life? the thought of losing you makes me feel like I'm dying? Any attempt to try and put how you felt into words made you spiral, and after a pent up moment of burning holes into the black leather of your steering wheel, the flood gates opened. 

“Fuck!” you screamed, tears cascading down your face and you hit the wheel with the palm of your hands over and over again.

You felt like you couldn’t breathe, like you were drowning in your own mind and had no way of coming to the surface. Your relentless mind was exhausting, and when your hands started to sting from your merciless slaps against the brittle leather, you clutched the wheel, resting your forehead against the material with closed eyes.

“What the fuck is wrong with me” you whispered to yourself, shaking your head against the wheel. 

You pulled one hand off the wheel and turned the key in the exhaust, starting the car as you lifted your head, taking a deep, calming inhale.

You gripped the wheel once more, turning your head and looking to Matts house, all you wanted was to go back inside, tell him that you’re scared, absolutely fucking terrified of how you feel about him, but you didn't, instead, you clenched your jaw, ripped your gaze from the house and pulled out into the street. 

On your drive home through the nearly empty LA highways, your mind raced with the events of the last six months, the orange streetlights periodically illuminating your car. Your playlist blared through the speakers on full volume as your unsuccessful attempt to drown out the sound of your own thoughts was brought to fruition, ‘sex’ by eden started to play, the drums and claps filling your senses as the piano melody took your mind to the last six months. 

The longing looks;

You were wrapped in a fluffy towel, your wet hair cascading down your shoulders as you lazily rubbed moisturiser over your clean face in Matts bathroom mirror. The door clicked open, and Matt softly padded into the damp steamy room, cold air following him in. His presence didn’t disturb you, you continued to do your skincare routine as he came up behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder and sneaking his long tattooed arms around your waist. Neither of you said anything, you didn’t even look at him. In that moment, his presence was simply an extension of your existence.

As you softly massaged a hydrating serum into your soft skin, Matt couldn’t help but stare at you in the reflection. He loved you like this, your most pure and natural self, skin still littered with drops of water from the shower and your hair forming loose curls as it dried messily over your shoulders.

He watched you intently from his perched position just beside the curve of your neck. He thought you were the most beautiful person he’d ever seen, and he could never get tired of looking at you. His gaze was heavy on your face, and once you’d finished applying all of your products, you let your eyes flit to his in the mirror, finally locking eyes with him. His mouth instantly curling up into a smile when you shot him a small grin. 

“You’re so beautiful” he said, his eye contact never wavering. 

Your smile grew and you dropped your head slightly, shaking it with an embarrassed chuckle. 

Matt squeezed you tighter to gain your attention again, missing the piercing warmth your eyes gave him. He picked his head up slightly and began to pepper short pecks on your damp, vanilla scented skin. The pecks slowly turned to small open mouth kisses, the warmth of his tongue against your skin sending shivers up your spine and encouraging a pool of wetness to collect between your legs. You let your head hang to the side slightly as he moved his kisses up your neck, stopping as he reached just below your ear. You whined as he pulled away and he laughed slightly, moving his hands to your waist and turning you round to face him.

The base of your spine was pressed against the marble counter top and Matt stared down into you, his hands absentmindedly rubbing circles against the towel that covered you. He effortlessly lifted you up and placed you on the sink, his hands finding your jaw once you landed the short jump. 

“I mean it, y’know, I think you might be the prettiest girl in the entire universe” his thumbs pressing into your cheeks as his slender fingers wrapped around the nape of your neck. 

His eyes were baring into yours, flitting between the left and right as an uncontrollable smile engulfed your face as you batted your lashes at him, returning his stare with doe eyes that almost made his knees buckle. 

“That’s a pretty damning statement, Matthew, I’m not sure I can live up to that title” You quipped, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him against you, aching for friction as you throbbed at his words. 

“There’s no question about it, pretty girl, no one even comes close” he said, pushing his jogger clad, growing bulge against your desperate core and pulling your impossibly close to him. 

“Let me show you how beautiful you are” he said, just before pulling you into a wet and tender kiss.

You moaned against his lips as Matt ground his hips into yours, his fingers digging into the nape of your neck. He moved his kisses down your jaw, his tongue flat against the bone as he worked his way down your neck and along the top of the white towel that separated his mouth from his favourite part of you. A soft hand came up to the fold in the fabric and tugged at it, causing it to drop from your body and fall onto the cold marble beneath you. The sudden exposure made all the tiny hairs on your body stand on edge as Matt ogled your body, taking you in like it was the first time he was seeing you bare like that, not the hundredth.

"you're so fuckin' sexy" he uttered, shaking his head in disbelief at the sight of your still slightly wet skin glistening for him.

You rested back on the palms of your hands and spread your legs wider for him, giving him a full view of your pretty pussy that was already slick to the touch. A hungry grunt left his throat at the sight of you baring yourself to him, and without hesitation, Matt dropped to his knees and hooked your legs over his shoulders, pressing bruises into the soft, squishy skin.

You squealed slightly as he tugged at your thighs, bringing your throbbing core only centimetres away from his face. He licked his lips like an animal spotting its prey and leaned forward, pressing a soft and sloppy kiss onto your clit. your back arched into the pressure of his tongue against you as he started lapping at your soaked core, moaning at the taste of you on his lips. Your fingers raked through his hair and tugged at the root, pushing him further into you as your hips involuntarily bucked into his face, grinding against his mouth as he worked his tongue over your weeping pussy.

His hand snaked its way down your leg, his blunt fingernails scratching down your skin as he brought his digits to to just below his chin, rubbing small circles at your entrance with the tip of his long finger, teasing your walls as they clenched around nothing, desperate for him to give you what he knows you want.

"mhph, Matt, please" you whined with furrowed brows, hips slowly grinding against his face.

Matt looked up at you with smiling, prideful eyes, dipping his middle finger into your soaked hole just enough to elicit a broken moan from your throat. As your walls loosened their grip around his finger, he slipped his ring finger inside, pushing them both in to the knuckle as he sucked on your clit, eyes still baring up into you as your head hung loose on your neck.

He pumped his fingers in and out of you at a steady pace, but his pace on your clit was fierce, as if he was attempting to suck the air from your lungs out from of your pussy.

Your high was fast approaching, and your whole body began to tense above him, your legs unintentionally closing shut around his head. Matt didn't care, he wanted you to close him in, keep him there for the rest of time so he could make you cum all over his face over and over again until you felt as if you could pass out from exhaustion.

His fingers began to curl up into that blissful sweet spot, your stomach tensed in response and he knew you were close to coming undone. He slurped and lapped at your folds, his tongue dipping between them to catch the very centre of your clit, toying with the nub as he relentlessly filled your walls with his long fingers.

"Oh, fuck, Matt" the pressure of his tongue against you was euphoric, and a wave of tingles covered every inch of your body.

Your walls were a vice around his fingers and, with a tantalising suck on your sensitive nub, you released warm cum all over his hand. You shook above him, your vision going blurry as he continued to devour you, bringing you to a white hot level of ecstasy that left you a blubbering, whimpering mess on the bathroom counter.

When your legs stopped tensing and hung lazily over his shoulders, Matt pulled his fingers from you, licking them clean just before placing a soft peck on your puffy clit. The feeling made you jolt and he chuckled, his warm breath acting as a soothing wind to your sensitive pussy.

Matt got to his feet, his hands instantly gripping at your thighs to wrap you around him once again. He kissed you like he was a man eating his last meal, the taste of yourself still heavy on his tongue as it pressed and pushed against yours.

"taste that, pretty girl? you're beautiful even down to the sweetness of your perfect pussy" He pulled away from you, to say just before biting down on your parted bottom lip

The small, jealous comments that went over your head;

You, the boys and a few of your mutual friends were in a bar somewhere in downtown LA. Your hands were pressed against the wood of the bar as you waited to be served, the crowds of people surrounding you making you somewhat invisible to the bartender who, famously served all the influencers first and annoyingly ignored anyone who didn’t have a brand deal or over a million followers. 

“Hey gorgeous” an unfamiliar voice disturbed your failed attempt to order a round for your table. 

You looked to the side, and were met with the glaring stare and bitten lip of yet another guy who wanted to buy you a drink and disappoint you sexually. 

“Hi” you said, turning your attention away from him just as fast as he caught it. 

“Can I just say, you’re the hottest chick in this whole bar” he rested a sweaty hand on your shoulder. 

You shrugged off his touch and looked back to him, “thanks” you said quickly, instantly skeeved out by the feeling of his hand on your skin. 

“Let me buy you a drink” he said in what seemed like his attempt at a seductive tone, bringing his hand back up to you and pushing your hair off your shoulder, letting it fall down your back. 

“I’m good, dude, I’m just trying to get a round for me and my friends” you shifted away from him. 

He edged closer to you, running his fingers down your arm and grasping at your hand, 

“I can get the round, I’ve got money like that, baby” 

The name made you feel physically sick, and before you could open your mouth to tell him to kindly fuck off, the comforting sound of Matts voice rang through your ears. 

“You good, y/n/n?” He said, coming up next to you and wrapping a tight hand around your waist, pulling you into him, his eyes never leaving the meathead trying to touch his girl.

“Who the fuck are you?” The guy said, instantly squaring up to Matt. 

“S’not important, dude, jus’ leave her alone, yeah?” He said, shifting slightly towards the guy, his hand never leaving your waist. 

“What are you, her boyfriend or something?” He laughed, pressing firm fingers into Matts shoulder. 

Matt chucked at the attempt to rile him up, pulling his arm from your waist and planting himself directly in front of the dickhead that just pushed his shoulder. 

Your hand pressed against his chest, bringing him back down to reality as he looked down into your soft, sparkle covered eyes. 

“Don’t” you said, applying a warm pressure to his sternum. 

His jaw clenched as his heart rate slowed, the feeling of your hand against his chest a soothing balm to the burning rage that had ignited in him. 

“Fuck off, dude, m’not interested in whatever you think you’re gonna get out of this” you said, pushing Matt behind you and giving the creep the dirtiest look you could muster up. 

He scoffed and rolled his eyes, “whatever, bitch, you’re ugly as fuck anyway” he said as he sulked away. 

“Oh, I’m gonna break his fuckin’ jaw” Matt said, attempting to slip out from behind you and follow the guy through the bar. 

“Matt” you said, grabbing his hand, “leave it” you said, pulling him back to you, catching his eye-line, “I’m fine, okay? He’s irrelevant”. 

He stood a few feet away from you with a clenched jaw, his hand still in yours as you glared at him. He rolled his eyes and returned to your side. 

“Kids just asking to get his shit rocked” he huffed, resting a protective hand on the base of your spine. 

“I'm sure someone will knock him out at some point” you said, a smirk forming on your face as you returned your attention to the bar tender. 

“I could have blinded him just for talking to you” he muttered, watching as the same guy sauntered over to other helpless victim. 

“Fuckin’ idiot thinks he has a chance in hell, tryna hold your hand and shit” he scoffed, “dickhead” Matt spat, finally tearing his eyes off the guy. 

You peered up at Matt and he met your gaze, a soft smile forming on his lips at the sight of you. You chuckled and shook your head, and just as you were about to tell him how sexy he is when he’s angry, you were interrupted by the bartender. 

“What can I get for you?”

The lingering touches when you were with your friends;

You were all hanging out at the boys’ house, watching films and talking about nothing, and everything. You were perched on the sofa, both of your legs tucked under yourself as you lazily scrolled on your phone. Matt was next to you, his legs in a wide man-spread as his back rested against the plush sofa cushions. His arm was rested against the back of the couch behind you, a comfortable warmth engulfing you just enough to not rouse any suspicion. 

His fingers absentmindedly traced he curve of your bare shoulder as he joked with Nate and Chris, all three of them laughing about something you weren’t listening to. 

“Y/n/n” Nick said from the kitchen, bringing your attention away from your phone, “can you come help me with this, I’m so fucking confused” he said, holding a cookie ingredient box in his hands, reading the back with furrowed brows. 

You looked over Matts shoulder towards the kitchen and let out a short chuckle, “Yeah, sure”. You shifted, and placed your feet on the floor, using Matts leg to help you up from your comfortable position on the sofa. 

The pressure of your hand against his leg went straight to his crotch, and as if on instinct, his hand met yours on his thigh for a moment as you pushed yourself up. You turned to look down at him over your shoulder as your hand slipped from under his, he looked at you like you were the only person in the room and you returned the favour, padding away from him and facing your attention towards Nick, who was standing, baffled in the kitchen over the instructions that ‘made no fucking sense’. 

His desperation for you after being apart for any longer than a couple days;

“Fuck, angel, I missed your pussy so fuckin’ much” Matt grunted into your neck as he pounded into you, slow and hard, sucking on the curve of your jaw and occasionally biting down on your soft skin. 

Your moaned at his words, legs wrapped tight around him with your feet locked at his waist, your hands clawed at his back as he stretched you out, the sensation of him relentlessly hammering into you completely overwhelming your senses. The weight of his body against yours was blissful, his warm skin pressed against yours as you kissed and sucked at his shoulder, desperate to feel every part of him against every part of you. His hands were pressing bruises into every inch of your skin, the feeling of you clenching around him sending him into ecstasy as he thrust in and out of your sopping pussy. 

“Y’so fuckin’ perfect, literally perfect, this pussy was made f’me, made jus’ f’me” he was rambling, desperate to let you know how much he had missed you. 

“Mphm, Matt, don’t stop, please, don’t stop” you whined as he hit that gummy spot deep inside you, his dick nestling perfectly inside your slick walls. 

“Keep saying my name like that, please baby, say it again f'me” He said, craning his neck up to look down at you, his eyes fluttery at the heavenly feeling of being completely surrounded by you. 

“Matt” you moaned, throwing your head back as he thrust deeper inside of you, the soft pressure of the top of his pelvis periodically pressing against your puffy clit. 

Matt groaned, dipping his head down to capture your neck in a tingling bite, just before soothing the sting with a warm and flat tongue. 

“Ugh, Matt” you whimpered, squeezing your legs tighter round him, your hands finding his sweaty curls. 

Matt near enough growled into your skin, picking up his pace as he hungrily fucked you with unwavering force into his bed. The sting of your fingers pulling his hair, coupled with the pulsating heat of your throbbing pussy sent him over the edge. With a loud grunt and stuttering hips, he came harder than he had in weeks, his vision going blurry as he nestled himself further into the crook of your neck, biting down on the fleshy meat of your shoulder. He slowed his pace completely, slowly fucking his cum into you until he felt paralysed by your warmth. 

“Jesus Christ” he uttered into your hair. 

You peppered kisses along his broad shoulder and up his neck, biting at his earlobe, earning an involuntary buck of his hips into your cum soaked hole. He begrudgingly pulled out of you, his soft dick hanging down between his legs as he fell down on top of you, his crushing body weight making you sink into the mattress. Your hands played with his hair as he caught his breath, head rested on your bare chest and hands rubbing at your boiling skin. 

“Take it you missed me then?” You muttered, enamoured with his tired and fucked out frame lazily pressed against you. 

He simply nodded against your skin, bringing a large hand up to palm the curve of your breast. “S’much” he said, just before taking your nipple into his mouth and sucking on it with vigour. 

You giggled at the sensation, shifting under him slightly as he pressed his already hardening dick against your thigh.

“Matt” You laughed, squirming under his touch. 

In one swift movement, he flipped you both over so that you were ontop of him, your wet pussy pressed against the base of his sticky cock. 

“Need more, princess, now, please” Matt said, a spread hand coming up your spine and he brought you down to him. His hand gripped the back of your neck as he kissed you like he was starved of your touch.

“m’never gonna get enough a’you” He moaned into the kiss, the feeling of your folds brushing up and down his stiff cock sending him into heavenly overstimulation. 

The final beat of the song brought you back to reality,

and before you realised it, you were back at your apartment, pulling into your parking lot and making your way up to your empty home. 

Your apartment was covered with Matt; a spare pair of his dirty, beat up airforces sat next to your messy array shoes by the front door, dried out flowers in jars were scattered around your whole apartment, all ones he had gotten you for birthdays or special achievements, or just because he saw them and thought of you. His jackets were hung up on your hooks, and his shirts were thrown lazily into your laundry baskets. Cards and notes were littered on your fridge and window sills, all just little messages he’d leave you throughout your entire friendship, even before you started sleeping together. 

You kicked off your shoes and padded over to the fridge to get some water, old photos and memories stared back at you. Your fingers wrapped around the handle of the door, but your arm didn’t budge, your attention was fixated on the array of photos stuck to the fridge. 

You had a photo of you and the boys when you were younger, your mum had found it when she was clearing out some old stuff and you simply had to steal it from her albums. There was another photo that Nick had taken at some party you don’t really remember and then there were two photos of you and Matt. One of them was a photo booth picture from some influencer thing he dragged you to, and the other was from your birthday last year. Just below the pictures, Matt had stuck a note under the floral magnet, you had no idea when he did it and honestly didn’t even notice it until that very moment. The note read, ‘hi, you’re pretty, have a nice day’ in what looked like his best attempt to have neat hand writing. 

You glanced over the photo from your birthday, it was just after you guys had started seeing each other, and the boys had decided celebrating your birthday away from LA was non negotiable, so you all went home to Boston and had a proper family birthday. It was perfect, and for that short week, everything in your life felt like it was finally falling into place. Tears began to prick at your puffy eyes once more as you stared at the picture, his strong arms wrapped around your shoulders, a cheesy grin spread across your face as he made one of his usual silly faces for the lens of Nicks camera. 

Your heart sunk in your chest, and for the first time since you met Matt all those years ago, you felt completely alone. You had done the one thing you were the most afraid of being done to you; you had walked out on him, without even stopping to tell him why. You had acted like everything you hated, and the shame you felt, coupled with a deep sadness and a looming feeling of heavy regret were all only exacerbated by the fact that, the only person you wanted to speak to about how you were feeling, was Matt. 

Back at his house, Matt was in his living room, sat across from his brothers, his elbows rested on his wide knees as his head hung on his neck, resting in his palms.

“You and y/n have been… fucking?” Chris said, fully spread across the sofa as he stared at Matt in bewilderment. 

“Don’t say it like that, Chris” Nick hit Chris on the chest, turning back to Matt and perching his head on his hand, looking at him with soft features that reassured Matt that he was listening, “carry on, Matt” he said. 

“It um— it started about six months ago, after Quens’ birthday party, d’you remember?” He said, brushing his hair out his face with a huff. 

“Oh, yeah, I remember that, you guys ended up kissing during that weird card game, right?” Nick said, recounting his hazy memories from the party. 

Matt nodded, rubbing the back of his neck, “We ended up sleeping together that night, I brought her back here and she snuck out in the morning before you guys woke up”

“You sneaky motherfucker, if this whole situation wasn’t depressing as fuck I’d be so proud of you dude.” Chris leant forward and grabbed Matts shoulder, shaking him slightly and beaming at him, trying to coax a smile out of him. 

A lazy smile creeped its way onto Matts face as Chris patted his back, that alone was enough to let him know that behind his sad eyes, Matt was still in there somewhere. 

“Wait, so, what happened? Why did she suddenly decide that she doesn’t want to see you anymore?” Nick pushed, just as confused as his younger brother. 

“I’ve got no fuckin’ idea, one minute we were fine, just chilling and watching gravity falls, and the next, she won’t even look at me” Matt sighed, his voice cracking as he spoke. He threw himself back onto the sofa and rubbed his eyes with the balls of his hands, groaning and trying not to cry. 

Chris and Nick shared a worried look, furrowed brows and concerned eyes pouring into each other as they both returned their attention to Matt, who was still shifting in his skin, the most worked up they’ve seen him in, well, in six months actually.

“Hey, kid, it’s gonna be okay, okay?” Chris placed a comforting hand on Matts knee, squeezing it slightly, “we’ve known her for like literally forever, whatever it is, I’m sure she’ll figure it out and come back” 

“Yeah” Nick said, moving to sit on the other side of Matt, “maybe she’s just having a moment or something? You know how she gets sometimes” he reassured Matt with a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

“I’m just—she jus’—I just don’t understand” Matt shook his head, hands raking down his face as frustrated tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. 

“Hey” Chris said gently, his voice wavering at the sight of Matt nearly crying, “Its okay, bro, you’ll figure it out, and besides even if you never get to fuck her again, I’m sure you’ll always be best friends” 

“Chris” Nick said quietly through gritted teeth, his hand gently rubbing Matts shoulder as he shot Chris a glaring look. 

“What?” Chris replied, innocently, not understanding what he said wrong. 

Matts head rolled against the back of the sofa, he let out a small chuckle and shook his head, a groan slipping from his lips, “I don’t care if I never get to sleep with her again dude, I jus’—“ he sighed, “I think I’m in love with her” he closed his eyes and squeezed his back teeth together, clenching his jaw as a throttling wave of sadness came over him, “and now I don’t know if I’m ever going to be able to tell her” 

In the month between you walking out and you both crashing back into each other,

you didn’t see Matt or the boys once. You completely isolated yourself, refusing to even think about what had happened. The night you came home, after hours of crying in the shower and wanting the world to swallow you hole, you decided that simply forgetting it ever happened was the best plan of action. If it never happened, then it didn’t need to matter. But it did happen, and it did matter and you became a shell of yourself, existing on auto pilot everyday. 

All you did was work and sleep, your social life becoming quickly non existent without the boys to coax you into actually leaving the house. You stopped replying to anyones messages in the first week, turning off all notifications and letting the little red bubble get longer and longer as the messages piled up in your phone. Everyday you managed to get yourself out of bed was a miracle, and if you showered and brushed your hair, it should have counted as an eighth wonder of the world. Your life had become an agonising picture coloured by shades of grey, all of the colour being stripped from your world when you slammed the door in your best friends face. 

You couldn’t understand why you couldn’t just call him, tell him that you were sorry, that you freaked out and acted like a fucking idiot, and that all you’ve ever wanted is for him to be around forever, in whatever shape that may take. You loved him, you had loved him since you were a child, but having sex with him, and being his in those fleeting moments of passion made you fall in love with him, and the thought of that made you feel like you were driving down the highway on the wrong side, cars flying towards you at a hundred miles per hour as someone blindfolded you and told you to keep driving. But not because of him, he was perfect. He was one of the only people in the world who you really trusted, who you knew you could always rely on no matter what and no questions asked. It was because of you, something inside of you felt broken, and you had no idea how to fix it. 

Matt wasn’t doing any better;

Unless he had to film or take a meeting, he barely left his room. He pushed away any attempt from his brothers to talk about you or what had happened since the night he told them about the two of you, not wanting to be reminded of the agonising feeling that had wedged itself between his ribs since the night you left.

His temper was shorter than ever, constantly snapping at one of the boys for tiny things and losing his shit every time a minor inconvenience happened. His parents got word of the fact that you two had stopped talking and tried to be there for him, your mum too, but he pushed everyone away. No one had the ability to crawl inside his brain and plant flowers in his weeds like you did, and he knew that, so he didn’t see the point in letting anyone even try.

After a certain point he stopped talking to everyone, only interacting with Chris or Nick when he really needed to and ignoring all the calls from Nate, his parents or Justin. He just wanted to be left alone, because at least then his reality would reflect how he felt. You had left a gaping hole in his life and slowly but surely, he was falling deeper and deeper into the dark abyss of that hole, letting the heavy sadness consume him with reluctant acceptance. 

Despite his temper and moping about, his brothers never stopped trying; 

A soft tap rattled his door, and a few seconds after, it creaked open, letting in a slither of light into his dark bedroom. 

“Matt? We’re gonna go get wing stop, d’you wanna come?” Chris said softly, peering his head through the crack in the door. 

Matt didn’t respond, he was tucked up to his neck in his duvet in his dark room, the only light in the room being that of his low brightness computer screen playing an array of depressing songs on loop and the light that Chris had welcomed in when he opened the door. 

“Matt, dude, you haven’t left your room in days, you gotta eat something” Chris sighed, his refusal to accept this new version of Matt apparent. 

Matt simply turned away from the door, turning his back to Chris in a silent ‘fuckin’ leave me alone’. Chris huffed, shaking his head and clicking the door shut. 

Nothing was working, and they had no idea if he was ever going to be okay again. Normally, he would mope about for a couple days and then be back to his usual silly, kind self. But this was different, he seemed completely void of anything that made Matt, Matt. 

Nick was fed up of his behaviour, and despite Chris’ constant battle with him over ‘just giving it time’, Nick knew, as his older brother and best friend, that it had all gone too far. So he took matters into his own hands.

That night, Nick got an uber to your apartment,

knowing it was your day off work and that you were almost definitely in the same position as Matt; not leaving your house or talking to anyone.  

The uber pulled up next to your apartment block and he got out the car, striding up the stairs to the entrance and relentlessly pounded against your front door. The sound made you jump in your skin, pulling your attention away from the last episode of season two of gravity falls, a show that hadn’t left your tv in weeks. When you didn’t answer the door to the first round of banging, it started again and you reluctantly pushed yourself off your sofa and walked over to the door as it vibrated on its hinges. 

“Okay, okay, m’coming, Jesus Chris” you groaned.  

When you opened the door, you were met with a face you hadn’t seen in weeks. 

“Nick?” Your face dropped in confusion.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, y/n/n” he started sounding off immediately, pushing himself into your apartment. 

“wha—“ you started to speak, but were immediately cut off. 

“In what universe is it okay to just go completely ghost on your best fucking friend? What the fuck were you thinking? Matt has been in a shit state since you ran out that night and I’m fuckin’ sick of it! He’s angry at everyone, he’s nearly gotten in actual fights with me and Chris about a thousand times and he’s even stopped talking to our parents. Our parents y/n.” Nicks face was nearly bright red with anger as he paced around your apartment. 

“Nick, I—“ you folded your arms over your chest, his words hitting you like bullets of reality. 

“No. I’m not finished.” He held his hand up to stop you speaking, “I don’t know what the fuck happened between the two of you, but you need to sort it out, because I can’t sit here and watch this all unfold anymore. I think what you fail to remember, is that despite the fact that you were fucking him, he was also supposed to be your best friend. We all were. When you walked out on him, you also walked out on me and Chris. You left us all high and dry without a single explanation and zero entrance back into your life to try and figure out what the fuck happened.” Nick finished his rant and took a deep inhale, his first real breath since he stepped foot in your apartment. 

The apartment was silent for a moment, you not knowing whether or not he was finished. “Can I speak now?”

“G’head” Nick replied, raising a hand, gesturing you to say your part. 

“I’m sorry that I walked out.” You said, it being the only thing you could think to say in that moment, “I didn’t know he was going through all of that” you said, averting your gaze to the floor. 

Nick chuckled in disbelief, “cut the shit, y/n/n” he said, “you know what he’s like, probably better than anyone. You know because you’re exactly the same, I mean, look at you, you look like shit” he said, not holding back, then again, when did he ever. 

You looked back up at him and couldn’t help but chuckle as his insult, “What are you talking about? M’fine” you shrugged. 

“Yeah sure you are, kid” Nick rolled his eyes, taking a few steps forward and lingering just in front of you. 

“Look, I don’t know what happened between you two, and honestly I don’t really care. But I do care about him, and I care about you, and I know that this is killing you as much as its killing him. so just stop being a fucking idiot and go tell him that you love him, because I’m tired of his stinking fuckin’ attitude and I miss you, I miss my best friend, we all do, Matt more than anyone” he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, his warm skin pulling a single brick from the dam that had all your crippling emotions stuffed behind it. 

Tears brimmed at your eyes and Nick sighed, bringing you into an all encompassing hug, holding your head against his chest as you sobbed into him. He held you like that for a while, letting you cry in his arms as he cooed and rubbed the back of your head in the gentle embrace you were wrapped in. When you finally stopped shaking, you pulled away from him, wiping your tears and looked up at him through wet lashes. 

“What if he hates me?” You sniffled, your voice still shaky. 

Nick shook his head with a breathy laugh out his nose, “I don’t think he could hate you even if he wanted to, you’re everything to him” 

You and Nick shared another hug before he said he had to go and meet everyone in the city, asking you if you wanted to come and not pressing when you shook your head no, telling him you just needed to be alone. He left and you were alone again, your mind now racing with everything he had said, his words giving you the reality check you needed.

Back at the boys' house,

Matt was padding around the kitchen, he had left his room about ten minutes after he heard the front door click shut and he knew he was alone. As he shuffled around in the cupboards looking for a bowl for his hundredth meal of instant noodles, the front door slammed shut, and a burning annoyance filled his entire body. Chris came bounding up the stairs, seemingly in a hurry, but stopped in his tracks at the sight of Matt, actually out of his bedroom. 

“Oh, you’re up, I jus’ came back ‘cause I forgot my wallet” he said, grabbing his wallet off the table. 

Matt didn’t respond, he didn’t even acknowledge Chris’ presence. 

Chris went to leave, rolling his eyes and not even attempting to bother trying anymore but, in true Chris fashion, he was determined to find his brother inside this strange ghost that had infiltrated his home. 

“Look, dude, I know you’re hurting, trust me I get it but, you can’t keep letting this bring you down forever. There has to be a point were you realise that this isn’t healthy” He sighed, walking back to stand next to the table. “I know you love her, and I know that this whole situation is killing you, but maybe if you jus —“ he sighed, “maybe if you jus fuckin’ speak to her then you can sort all of this out, she can come back and everything can be normal again, ‘cause, its hard as fuck seeing you like this man and, even though I don’t love her like you do, I miss her too, she’s been around forever and it feels like we're a table missing a fuckin’ leg or some shit so, jus’ speak to her. what’s the harm in just trying, y’know?” 

Matt, with his back still to Chris, shifted where he stood slightly, opening his mouth to reply but swallowed his words. 

Chris sighed and shook his head, turning on the balls of his feet and running down the stairs. The slam of the front door echoed through the house, and Matt was soon left with the deafening silence left by Chris’ absence.

His brothers words ran laps around his mind, he knew he was right, this couldn’t go on forever, and he should just speak to you, but how was he even supposed to begin to try? Was he supposed to just show up at your apartment, tell you how he was dying inside, how this past month had been the hardest of his entire life and that he had missed you every single second of every day that passed painstakingly slowly? Was he supposed to just show up at your home, grab you by the face and tell you that he loved you and that he never wanted to be without you ever again? As the rapid thoughts bounced like pinballs against the walls of his skull, he realised that, that was exactly what he was going to do. 

He slammed the cupboard door shut and strode over to the table, picking his keys up and near enough sprinting down the stairs, not even stopping to put shoes on as he pulled the front door open and stepped out in front of his house. 

As he stepped out into his front yard, his heart fell down into his stomach at the sight of your shadowy frame, standing just a few feet from his front door, arms crossed over your pyjama top clad chest. He was paralysed, he didn’t know if he was dreaming or, if somewhere between the kitchen and the door he fell over and cracked his head open.

“Y/n” he choked out, it being the only thing he could muster up in that moment. 

“Hi” you said in a small voice, a shy smile finding your lips at the sound of him saying your name. 

Matt couldn’t move, feeling as though the ground had grown hands that had wrapped themselves around his ankles. You made the first move, taking a step into the light, the orange street lamp illuminating your features. His breath hitched in his throat at the sight of you, your beautiful face in his sights again after what felt like an eternity.

You walked closer to him, warmth radiated off him as he stared down at you with a slightly parted mouth. Neither of you spoke, you had no idea what to say, you just stared into each other for that long moment, the world shifting on its axis around you as suddenly, face to face like this, you felt like the only two people in the entire universe. Your eyes flitted between his, your lips periodically getting caught between your teeth as you tried to think of something, anything to say.

Matts eyes explored your face, as if he was memorising every inch of it incase it was the last time he was seeing you, incase this wasn’t real and he was asleep in his dark room. His gaze flitted to your plump lips and it sent a twinge up your spine, and without thinking, you latched your hands round the back of his head and pulled him down into you in a feverish, desperate kiss. He returned the kiss almost immediately, his hands slipping round your waist and pulling you into him in a frenzied attempt to feel you close to him again. 

You burst into the house back first, Matts hands clawing at your waist and his lips moving against yours in a clash of teeth and tongues, your arms draped over his shoulders as your hands desperately clung to his messy brown hair.

He kicked the door shut with his foot, one hand coming to your jaw to pull you into him deeper. You both clumsily walked towards his bedroom, Matt leading you backwards with closed eyes, just about missing the couch. Your hands left his hair and found the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it up over his head with vigour, breaking the kiss for a brief moment before crashing back into each other. Heavy breathing and small moans were the only sound in his house as he attempted to unbutton your shirt, not yet breaking the kiss and fumbling at the tiny circles that kept your body from him. He groaned into the kiss in frustration, biting your lip slightly before tearing your shirt open in one fowl rip. You chuckled into the kiss, Matt followed suit and your back hit the hard wood of his bedroom door, your arm frantically finding the door handle behind you.

When you finally gained entrance, still locked in an all consuming make out session with Matt, you slipped your hands between your bodies and began to untie the knot in his joggers, his whole body twitching at the sensation. Matt broke the kiss, panting, his forehead leaning on yours. 

“I thought you said we weren’t gonna do this anymore” He said through frantic breaths, his lips still brushing yours. 

“I know what I said” you muttered, finally undoing the bow that acted as the gatekeeper between your hand and his aching length, the swift insertion of your cold hand into his warm boxers acting as a mic drop to your statement as you pulled him into you once more. 

“So” Matt pulled away for a brief moment, missing the heat from your plump lips and kissing you before he spoke again, “what’re we doin” he panted. 

“Just shut up and kiss me, Matt” you shook your head, wrapping your hand round the back of his head, nearly giving him whiplash at the speed you pull his lips back to yours. 

He kissed you back hungrily, groaning into your mouth as he pushed you backwards onto his bed. You hit the bed with a small whimper as his mouth detached from yours, his tongue flattening against your neck, then your chest, then your stomach and then back up the way he came.

Your hands latched onto his curls as your back arched at the sensation of his mouth against you for the first time in what felt like forever. He moaned against your skin, grinding his hard cock into your desperate core, your clothes creating a frustrating amount of friction between the two of you.

He bucked his hips into yours, your legs tightening around his waist with every thrust. You were desperate, and he was starved of you. His large came to your open shirt and pushed it down over your shoulder, his perfect teeth clamping down on your soft skin. His mouth found the curve of your tit, pulling the lacy fabric of your bralette down to expose your hardened nipple to him. With one hand on your waist, and his mouth latched around your nipple, Matt groaned into your skin. Your head rolled back at the sensation of his warm tongue on you, your whole body felt like it was on fire as his touch became feverish.

"Matt, please, please, I need it, I need you" you whined, you weren't sure what you were begging for but the pleads spilled from your mouth almost on instinct.

Matt removed his mouth from you and tugged at your shirt, you shifted slightly to assist him as he threw it across the room. He palmed the flesh of your half exposed tits, growing frustrated at the sight of the baby blue lace of your bralette that kept him from seeing you completely. With one swift rip, he tore the flimsy fabric open at the seams, leaving it in scraps on his mattress. The vision of your heaving chest incited something animalistic in him and he instantly dove down, latching his mouth around you once more.

The moan that left your throat was guttural, your back arching off the bed as his hand slipped down between the two of you, skipping the teasing and heading straight for your throbbing clit. The tip of his middle finger found your nub instantly and without hesitation, he set an agonising pace, rubbing blissful circles over it as his tongue continued to work your nipple. He moved his hand down, swiping his ring and middle through your sopping wet folds. Your toes curled at the feeling and with that, Matt inserted his long fingers into your tight hole.

The feeling of you clenching around his fingers made his stomach tense, a deep, hungry moan leaving his mouth and vibrating around your tit. Your thighs clenched around his wrist, he brought his knee to yours and pushed your legs open with brute force, pinning you open for him as he made his way down your skin with wet and sloppy kisses. As he moved, he pulled down your pyjama bottoms and panties, the cold air peppering goosebumps all over your skin as he slowly exposed you to him.

You were completely bare, spread out on his bed. He got to his feet, knees resting on the edge of the bed as he gawked down at you, his chest heaving in anticipation at the sight of you like this for him, something he thought he'd never see again.

"are you sure y'wanna do this?" he said, removing his hands from you completely.

"Matt, you're the only thing I've ever been sure about in my entire life" you panted, sitting up, placing your hand on his chest and leaning up into him.

His fingers pressed against your core once more, attaching his lips to yours as you wrapped a hand around the back of his neck.

"I've missed you, so fuckin' much" Matt confessed into the kiss, pushing you further up the bed as he crawled between your open legs.

Your hands came to the waistband of his joggers and pushed them down with desperation, moaning into the messy kiss as he thrust his slender fingers in and out of you at a tormenting pace. You wrapped your hand around his cock and he bucked into your touch, chasing the feeling of you pumping him. He broke the kiss with a breathy whine, head dropping to the crook of your neck as he assisted you in lining his throbbing length up with your sopping hole. He pulled his fingers from you and rubbed small circles over your clit, you pressed his leaking tip against your hole.

Matt moaned your name, the feeling of your wet pussy so close to being around him making his vision go blurry.

His hand came to your face, pressing bruises into your cheek as he shifted you both to lay on your sides, facing each other. He moved his hand down, lifting your leg and hooked it over his waist, pulling you into him with such force that a short squeal left your lips. You continued pumping him, rubbing his tip through your folds, when you brushed him back over your hole, Matt bucked his hips, the sting of him stretching you out for a brief second inciting throaty moans from the both of you.

Once he had a taste, he was lost in it, and Matt pushed himself inside of you again, this time allowing himself to bottom out in your gummy, soaked walls. Your eyes rolled back at the sensation, your forehead pressing against his as he breathed desperate moans into your open mouth.

"Jesus christ you feel so fuckin' good" Matt whined, thrusting into you with one hand tucked between your face and his pillow, and the other on your thigh, the pressure of his touch sure to leave bruises behind.

He was bottoming out completely as your pussy milked him, clenching around his hard cock, and you felt as if you could cum from the sensation of his touches alone. Your whole body was tingling, every inch of your skin on fire with pure bliss as he fucked up into you at a steady pace.

"Matt, go faster, please" You whimpered, clawing at the back of his neck, tugging at the messy curls that gathered there.

He didn't need to be told twice, with a low growl, Matt set a rapid pace, fucking into you like it was the last thing he would ever do. Your moans were pornographic, the sting of his skin slapping against yours, coupled with the blissful stretch of your pussy around his cock sending you into a deep state of euphoria.

Matt grunted repeatedly, moaning your name over and over again as he fucked into you desperately. His moans made your ears ring, you brought a hand down in between you both and collected some of the juices that leaked from your pussy onto his cock, moving your fingers up to rub rapid circles across your puffy clit.

Matt grunted at the sight, his grip on your skin turning to blunt nailed scratches as he hardened his thrusts, pounding into you relentlessly as you worked your clit.

"keep doing that, angel, keep doing that for me, you feel so fucking good clenching around me like this, jesus christ, you're so fucking sexy when you touch yourself for me" he was rambling, completely consumed by the sight of you, the feeling of you milking his cock bringing him closer and closer to his release.

"fuck, Matt, m'gonna cum, m'gonna cum" you cried out, tears pricking at your eyes as he fucked into you at a rapid pace. the sensation of his merciless grip on your skin coupled with the stimulation of your throbbing clit making you see stars.

"cum for me, angel, cum f'me, I'm right there with you, m'right there with you" his words were almost incoherent.

The sound of him telling you to cum was enough to send you tumbling down into ecstasy, and he was right behind you. The vice grip your clenching pussy had around his cock was incredible, and wet sounds of your cum releasing all over his length filled the air as his pace became sloppy, chasing his high as he stuttered inside of you.

"Fuck, Matt" you cried out, and the sound of you crying out his name sent him over the edge.

He released threads of ropy cum into your gaping hole, fucking his seed into you as his movements began to slow.

Your breathless pants filled the room as you both came down from your highs, foreheads pressed against each others, sharing oxygen as your leg remained wrapped around his waist. His hand caressed the side of your face, pushing your hair out the way to look at your pretty, fucked out face. 

When you opened your eyes, he was already looking at you and the feeling of his eyes baring into yours made your skin hot. 

“Hi” you smiled. 

“Hey” He cheesed back, rubbing small circles on your warm cheeks. 

After a brief moment of loving stares, reality set in, and you remembered the agonising events that led you to being here, tangled up with him like this. The dark circles around Matts eyes that mimicked your own broke your heart, and in that moment, you couldn't bare the thought of never being away from him ever again.

“I um—I’m really sorry, Matt.” Your smile dropped into a sincere, pleading expression. 

“You don’t have to apologise to me, y/n” Matt shook his head against the pillow. 

“No, I —“ you sat up, resting on your elbow to look down at him. His hand on your cheek didn’t falter and you pressed your head into his touch with closed eyes, “I do. I’m so fucking sorry, Matt. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I—I just freaked out because you called me baby and I —“ your rambling was cut off by his voice.

“Wait” he said, shifting to rest against his headboard, letting his hand drift down the soft skin of your arm, “all of this, was because I called you baby?” He asked through a short, baffled laugh. 

You nodded, some what embarrassed, sitting up completely in front of him, taking his large hand in yours and toying with the rings on his fingers. 

“But, I called you baby all the time” Matt chuckled, grasping your hand in his and gaining your attention back to his soft eyes. 

“I know, it just— it freaked me out because I think I realised in that moment that I was in love with you and, I just didn’t know how to handle that” you looked away from him again, the weight of your confession making your voice crack. 

Matts ears began to ring, “You’re in love with me?” He questioned, thinking his mind was playing tricks on him. 

You locked eyes with him again, he looked so soft, his kind eyes almost sparkling with happiness at your words, “yeah, I'm in love you, Matt” you nodded, “I am, and I — I tried to ignore it, I tried to push it down and forget about it but, I couldn’t, I don’t know how to forget you” 

Matt didn’t say anything, he felt as though all the words in the English language were ripped from his brain as you told him you loved him for the second time. He simply starred at you in awe, your hand firm in his grip. 

“Can you say something, please” you said, your eyes flitting away from his for a second before returning to their prior position. 

“Y/n/n, I— I’ve been in love with you since we were ten years old” the words spilled from his mouth, a wave of utter relief washing over him at the feeling of finally admitting a fact he’s known for half his life. 

“You have?” Your expression was pleading as your eyes widened at his confession. 

“I’ve loved you more and more everyday I’ve known you, I just didn’t realise it until that night when— when we kissed” He said, sitting up and lingering inches away from your face. He brought his hand back up to your face, “You don’t know how to forget me?” He chuckled, “I couldn’t ever forget you, even if I tried, even if I wanted to” his lips brushing over yours softly as you breathed into his parted mouth. 

You didn’t respond with words, instead, you pressed your lips against his with such force that it sent him back down to his satin pillow.

You were terrified, and completely enamoured by him. You loved him more than you'd ever thought possible and he loved you just the same. And despite the fact that the idea of being loved, truly loved, scared you beyond belief, you no longer felt like you were drowning. Because you knew that no matter what happened, Matt would always be there to dive into the rocky waters and pull you to the surface.

taglist: @sturniozalt @shaquilles-0atmeal @blahbel668 @sleepysturniolo @le4hsblog @prissyhs @mattslolita

[streetlamp-amber]

first kicks

batfamily x batmom!reader

word count: 1.9k | divider by @saradika | requests are open!

CW: family fluff, pregnancy NOTES: i wanted to write more batfam fluff this time with jason included. very sorry if jason is ooc, most of my knowledge of him comes from fics lol

Rainy Sunday afternoons at Wayne Manor were usually spent with you and your sons in the living room, occupying the big U-shaped sectional sofa. Sometimes Bruce would join you three, resting his feet on the coffee table as he worked on his laptop. Today was one of those days.

You were helping Dick do some research on the internet for a science school project that was due next week while Jason laid on his stomach on the other side of the couch, reading a Where’s Waldo? book by himself. Your husband sat in the other corner of the couch, doing some research on the latest villain terrorising Gotham. You didn’t mind if the work he was doing was for Batman, as long as he spent some time with the family outside of the cave, you were satisfied. Especially since the Wayne clan was about to expand in a little more than four months. Plus, with your belly growing bigger as the weeks went by, it was becoming harder for you to do some tasks around the house. Tasks that you didn’t want to ask Alfred for help with since it was your husband’s job to be at your beck and call through the pregnancy. Bruce obviously didn’t mind and loved helping you, he just sometimes tended to get lost in his Batman work for long periods of time.

The television was playing in the background, a football game between two teams that you didn’t really care about was taking place but you didn’t mind. You couldn’t work well without some sort of background noise and this was doing the job.

”So Dick, have you chosen which natural disaster to base your research project on?” Bruce asked your eldest while closing his laptop and joining him on his other side, making the twelve year old squished between his parents.

”We’ve narrowed it down to three: the 2011 Tōhoku earthquake and tsunami, the 1906 San Francisco earthquake and Hurricane Katrina,” Dick answered, clicking on different tabs of each of the natural disasters as he named them. “I want to do my research on a popular one so I can easily find all the information I need.”

”Smart, isn’t he?” You smirked at Bruce as you mindlessly threaded your fingers in Dick’s dark hair who continued scrolling on the internet.

“Never thought otherwise,” your husband said, mirroring your grin. “Jay, have you found all the Waldos yet?” He leaned forward to ask Jason.

“I’m almost done,” the six year old easily dismissed Bruce, not even bothering to tear his eyes away from the pages.

“It’s best not to bother him when he’s searching for Waldo,” you informed your husband in a low volume.

Bruce nodded his head in understanding and redirected his attention back on Dick. “So, how are you gonna make your choice, chum? You could write them down on three pieces of paper and do a draw,” he suggested, leaning his arm on the back of the couch behind Dick, his fingers playing with the neck of your tshirt.

“Dad, I don’t need to write it down on some paper,” Dick sighed, a little annoyed. “You can do that on the internet now.”

“You can?” Bruce asked, surprised. Your husband was really tech savvy when it came down to work related to Batman, but silly, random stuff like a drawing roulette was not part of his internet knowledge.

You leaned your head on your left hand that was propped on the back of the couch and soothingly rubbed your round belly with the other. You watched with a soft smile Dick showing Bruce how to generate a random picking wheel to spin on the internet. Moments like these were the ones you cherished the most, domesticity wasn’t always the norm around here when you had two vigilantes living under your roof so you always tried to savour them whenever they happened.

The calmness in you was interrupted when you felt movement under your right hand.

“Oh my God,” you whispered, eyes round like saucers as you looked down at your bump and raised up the hem of your shirt to make sure what you felt was right.

“What?” Bruce immediately turned his attention to you. “What is it? Is something wrong? Are you alright?”

“I think the baby just kicked,”you said, raising your head to meet his eyes.

“The baby just kicked?” He repeated in disbelief.

You shook your head ‘yes’ just as you felt more movement. “The baby kicked again.”

Bruce rapidly stood up to sit by your side while Dick discarded his laptop before placing a hand on your belly and Jason left his book to climb on your husband’s lap to be closer to you. All had a hand on your stomach, staring at it expectantly, waiting for another kick.

“I don’t know if the baby’s gonna kick again,” you told them.

“Well that’s just not fair,” Jason whined.

“We just need to be patient,” Bruce said. “I’m sure the baby will do it again.”

And sure enough he was right. 

“Oh my God! I felt it! I felt the baby kick!” Dick exclaimed, though he kept the volume of his voice to a low level as if he would scare the baby away if he screamed.

“I wanna feel it too!” Jason cried.

“Here Jay, put your hand there,” you told your youngest as you gently grabbed his wrist and moved his hand to a different area of your belly, closer to Dick’s hand.

“Maybe if we keep talking, the baby will kick again,” Dick suggested.

“That’s true, babies can hear us from inside the mother’s belly,” Bruce agreed with him.

“They can?” Jason looked at you quizzically.

You chuckled at his confused face as you brushed his hair away from his forehead. “Yeah they can, it’s not completely soundproof in there,” you answered him.

“That’s why Dad is always talking to your belly?” Dick asked.

You fully laughed at this. “Yes, that’s why Dad talks to the belly. You can too if you wanna.”

“We can?” Dick perked up then leaned closer to your bump. “Hi baby, I’m Dick. Your big brother,” he said.

Jason also leaned forward. “And I’m Jason, I’m also gonna be your big brother.”

“Yeah but I’m the big big brother, I’m the oldest,” Dick argued.

“But I’m gonna be a big brother too!”

“Boys,” Bruce intervened. “No arguing around your mother. The baby will hear enough of that when it joins our lives, let it have its peace while it’s in the womb.”

A series of kicks started at that moment, making Dick and Jason gasp in surprise at the movements they felt under their hands. Bruce turned to you and the two of you shared a look full of love.

“That’s our baby,” he said to you, almost in a whisper, while Dick and Jason continued marvelling at the fact they could feel their sibling.

“That's our baby,” you repeated in confirmation. Nothing could've erased the smiles on both of your lips.

“I love you,” Bruce said against your forehead before leaving a soft kiss there and pulling away to share a short peck on the lips with you.

“Ew! Gross!” Jason interrupted your moment. Your sons weren’t the biggest fans of you and Bruce’s displays of affection for each other.

You giggled at the boys’ antics but still took a second to say “I love you” back to your husband.

“Someone should get Alfred so we can share this moment with him,” you suggested to the kids.

“Not it!”

“Not it!”

Jason and Dick quickly shouted, the former being the fastest to say it.

Dick groaned before he stood up from the couch and jogged out of the living room. The faster he would find Alfred, the faster he would be back next to you. “Alfred! The baby is kicking for the first time!” Dick called through the manor for your butler.

“He knows he doesn’t need to scream, right?” Bruce asked you. “Alfred can hear the boys break something all the way from the other side of the house.”

“Oh, let him be. He’s just very excited about the baby kicking,” you lightly reprimanded him with the corner of your mouth pulling up in a smirk.

You detached your gaze from your husband down to Jason who now had both of his small hands on your belly, his mouth in the shape of an ‘O’ and his eyes round with wonder in them.

“This is so cool,” he said, barely above a whisper.

“Looks like you’re gonna have some competition Jay, that baby sure is kicking a lot,” Bruce jokingly commented as the kicking didn’t stop.

You chuckled as you remembered all the times you’d stop by the gym room to find Jason relentlessly kicking at Bruce’s punching bag. For a six year old, he already had so much anger pent up inside his little body and it worried you sometimes. But ever since Bruce brought him back to the Manor, Jay had been getting better. The amount of vases thrown at the wall had drastically decreased since then, both to yours and Alfred’s reliefs, and he instead would run to the gym room and let out his anger on the punching bag when needed.

“I can’t wait to play fight with you,” Jason whispered loudly to your belly with a smile.

“No,” you immediately said.

“Best you stick to play fighting with Dick for a couple more years, buddy,” Bruce told your son.

Jason pouted. “But he's always pulling some acrobatic shit–”

“Language!” You scolded him.

“But Ma! Dad and Dick say it all the time!” Jason cried out defensively. “That’s not fair,” he retracted his hands from your belly to cross his arms over his chest.

“Well Dad and Dick, and you too apparently, will not be saying words like that around the baby,” you warned. “Capiche?”

“Capiche,” Jason mumbled.

“Capiche?” You repeated, now glaring at your husband.

“Hey, I’ve really been refraining on the bad words ever since Dick joined us,” Bruce argued but you raised your eyebrows in a way that said this wasn’t what you wanted to hear. “Capiche,” Bruce sighed out, knowing he wasn't going to win this fight.

“Master Dick, slow down a little. There’s no need for running,” you heard Alfred’s voice approaching down the hall.

“But Alfred, the baby is kicking!” Dick reiterated.

Your oldest ran in the living room, his hand firmly holding Alfred’s who tried to keep up behind him.

“I heard you the first ten times, Master Dick, the baby will still be there no matter how fast we get there,” Alfred argued.

“Yeah but it might stop kicking,” Dick said and the two sat on the couch to your unoccupied left.

“Don’t worry chum, the baby’s still kicking,” Bruce told him while looking fondly at your belly.

“Please Alfred, feel the baby,” you said to your butler with an inviting smile, grabbing his hand that rested on his knee and gently squeezing it. “We want you to be part of this moment too.”

Alfred’s hand joined the others on your bump and the old man smiled at you and Bruce as he felt the tiny bumps moving around under your skin. “This is sensational.”

“Isn’t it?” You smiled back at him, content to have everyone you wanted to share your baby’s first kicks with.

Your little family of five (soon-to-be six) remained on the couch until the baby grew tired and stopped kicking, much to Dick and Jason’s dismay. Alfred went back to his tasks, the boys to their laptop and book, and Bruce wrapped his arm around your shoulder as you cuddled next to him, watching over your children and just enjoying the normalcy of this Sunday afternoon.

Domesticity used to be rare at the Wayne Manor, but not anymore. And you, for one, were very happy about it.

[gyuuberryy]

love potions (but make it legal)!

pairing: tutor!jungwon x reader

summary: you had not been too excited about these tutoring sessions your potions professor had dropped on you. but, after meeting your tutor you couldn’t hope but think you both were brewing more than just potions, perhaps even love?

genre: hogwarts au, jungwon is a loser for the reader, initially slightly one sided pining, fluff, angst

warnings: some hogwarts lore references, mentions of failing a class, jealousy, angst, magic stuff, kissing, suggestive(ish)

note: they don’t actually make love potions in this but i liked the sound of it so i used it in the title hehe. i hope you guys enjoy this fic as you had given so much love to the heeseung one.

word count: 4.3kish

if you liked it please reblog or comment to give me your feedback! <3

to the anon who requested a jungwon hogwarts au im sososoo sorry for publishing this like six months later. i had a terrible writer’s block with this one. i’m terribly sorry, this constantly ran through my mind but i couldn’t bring myself to begin. i hope you like this!

you were so screwed.

you felt like a deflated balloon looking at your mock NEWT results. you were literally failing your potions class. with all the time spent in balancing out your classes, quidditch and sessions at the room of requirement as a part of dumbledore’s army, you had not practised well enough for your classes that were practical based. 

seeing your grades drop from exemplary results to having mediocre grades and failing a class was depressing. so, your potions teacher had made you stay back to have a word with you which is why you stood off to the side. your head hung low in disappointment with yourself. if this continued, it would be hard to apply for an auror’s job, which was your dream. 

you were broken out of your thoughts by the sound of your professor clearing his throat. your head shot up and you looked around to see the room was now empty save for you both. he gestured to the seat next to his table, so you shuffled over.

he looked over the rim of his glasses as he scanned over your report card. you hated the pitiful look that crossed over his face, you were not used to this.

“you are one of my best students, i really wasn’t expecting this from you..”

you grimaced at his words, feeling worse about your situation. great, you were not the only one disappointed by yourself.

your professor must have noticed because his tone immediately became gentle as he gave you a comforting smile. 

“see, the only reason i asked you to stay back was because i know you can do better”, he shuffled through a register seemingly looking for something. “i’m sure you have your reasons as to why your performance went down. i know you can improve again.”

you nodded at his words, already starting to feel better, “yes professor i-”

“which is why i think you should get tutored”, he cut you off.

you froze. tutoring? this was so embarrassing, usually you were the one to provide tutoring to others, and now you have to be the one to receive it? no thank you.

you let out a small chuckle, “i understand professor, but i think i can handle it by myself.”

his brows creased at your words, “i don’t think you have enough time for that, the exams are nearing and you have managed to mess up even the basic things in the exam.”

you sighed at his words, silently accepting your fate because he wasn’t wrong. maybe you should swallow your ego and just get tutored, it was for your own good anyway.

taking a deep breath you put on a fake smile and gritted out, “okay.”

the rush of your mary jane clad feet filled the hallways of hogwarts with clopping sounds. your feet skidded to a stop in front of the library doors and you placed your hand over your chest, trying to catch your breath from the ten minute long run. you were late for your first tutoring session because your evening nap went a little longer than expected. 

brushing out stray hair strands from your face you opened the doors and stepped in, looking around for your tutor. the only person other than you was a boy with raven hair, sitting on a bench completely surrounded by bookshelves. 

you approached him, assuming he was your tutor. 

“uh hey!”, you called out in an unsure manner. “are you my assigned tutor for po-”

“yes”, he cut you off curtly, not even bothering to spare you a glance. “take a seat.”

you frowned in confusion at his cold behaviour and pulled out a chair to sit next to him. he seemed to be shuffling through some papers and organising them. a few seconds went by with him failing to acknowledge your presence. you cleared your throat awkwardly and introduced yourself, trying to get his attention. 

his head immediately shot up as soon as he heard your name, his eyes widening in what you could tell was surprise. confused at his reaction, you just gave him a small smile. he was silent for a while, giving you enough time to take in his features.

bangs fell over the smooth skin of his forehead and he looked at you through glasses which fit perfectly on his face, adding on to his handsome features. you had seen him around a few times as you shared a few classes with him. he was one of the smartest students, loved by all his teachers.

“uh i’m jungwon”, his voice broke through the awkward silence.

you nodded, “hey. i’ve seen you around.”

his lips pulled up into a smile at that as he let out a small laugh nervously. you raised your eyebrows at his sudden shift in demeanour. just a moment ago he didn’t care about your presence and now he was smiling? whatever.

“professor told me you had been facing some problems with potions”, he looked down and tapped his quill on the table. “what can i help you with?”

you explained how you messed up the practical test for your mocks. he listened intently, never breaking eye contact with you which made you a bit nervous. 

you came to an end of your rant but jungwon still maintained eye contact with you, his chin resting on his hand now. 

you cleared your throat, “so..?”

he still seemed to be staring at you, his eyes out of focus as he dreamily smiled at you.

frowning at his odd behaviour, you waved your hand in front of his face which broke him out of his thoughts. his eyes widened momentarily as he shook his head, a small blush spreading across his cheeks.

“are you sick?”

he chuckled nervously, “no no i was just planning out how i could help you”

he picked up a quill and started writing a plan for you in neat handwriting. once he was done, he passed the sheet over to you.

“we’ll follow this for the next two weeks. meet me in the potions class at four tomorrow.”

you gave a once over at what he had written and smiled at him. “will do, thanks jungwon!”

he nodded and started packing up his things. when he was done he looked at you expectantly, “it’s time for dinner, let’s go to the great hall together.”

you smiled and gathered your things as well.

it was the first day of your tutoring and you were early today.

or you thought so.

glancing around the potions classroom, you spotted jungwon already there. he was perched on a stool, arranging vials and flasks on the tables. unlike his usual composed demeanour in class, he seemed flustered, his bangs falling over his forehead as he fumbled with a particularly stubborn stopper.

he looked up as he heard you shuffle in, a relieved smile splitting his face.

"ah, there you are! i was starting to think you'd gotten lost."

"lost?" you repeated, a laugh escaping your lips. "in the potions classroom? hardly."

he chuckled, a nervous undertone to it. "right, of course. so, are you ready to tackle some invisibility potion today?"

you straightened your robes, a determined glint in your eyes. "ready as i'll ever be. though," you added, an unsure lilt in your voice, "considering my track record, maybe 'invisible' isn't the best thing to start off with."

jungwon's hummed, his cheeks flushing. "well, that's why we're practising, isn't it? to avoid another...disappearing act?"

you snorted. "exactly. though, to be fair, the professor did say my failed polyjuice potion was rather impressive in its...uniqueness."

he winced. "right. let's just focus on not achieving sentience with our cauldron this time, alright?"

the rest of the afternoon was a whirlwind of chopping netslime and muttering incantations. jungwon was a patient tutor, though his explanations sometimes devolved into nervous rambling when your eyes met. 

by the end of the session, your potion shimmered a faint, almost-invisible blue. not perfect, but a far cry from your previous disasters. jungwon beamed, his earlier awkwardness replaced by genuine pride.

"see? you're a natural! with a little more practice, you'll be brewing like snape in no time."

you laughed. "snape? now that's a terrifying image."

he chuckled, then cleared his throat, his gaze flickering away. "well, i should probably get going. i have herbology first thing tomorrow."

you nodded, gathering your things. "alright, see you then. and jungwon?"

he stopped at the door, his eyes questioning.

"thanks a lot for doing this. i already feel more confident.”

he smiled at that, making you do the same unconsciously.

the next two weeks flew by in a flurry of potion-making and stolen glances in your sessions, and outside of it whenever you both crossed paths. you had made a new friend and you were grateful for his help. you found yourself approaching the cauldron with newfound determination. your brews were improving steadily, and the playful banter during your sessions only added to the enjoyment.

one particularly chilly evening, you hurried down to the room of requirement, the usual meeting place for your secret DA practice sessions. you entered to find the familiar sight of your fellow students practising disarming spells and dodging jinxes. but amidst the chaos, you spotted an unexpected face – jungwon.

he was facing away from you, expertly deflecting a curse with a flick of his wand. you blinked, momentarily speechless. you never knew jungwon was a part of this! a warmth bloomed in your chest, a mixture of surprise and a strange sense of pride.

"nice one, jungwon!" , you called out, a wide grin on your face. jungwon turned, his eyes meeting yours. a flicker of surprise crossed his features before he broke into a wide grin.

"hey there," he said casually, striding over to you. "didn't expect to see you here."

"me neither," you admitted, a smile playing on your lips. "i guess you're not just a potions prodigy, huh?"

he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "turns out i have a few other hidden talents."

the rest of the evening flew by in a whirlwind of practice. seeing jungwon in this new light – confident, skilled, and fighting for a cause you both believed in – made your heart flutter. he was everything you admired and more.

admire? since when did that happen?

shaking your head to rid yourself of such thoughts, you got back to practising your charm. although, over the duration of the practise, your mind couldn’t help but wander towards jungwon’s recent behaviour. he had been sweet to you since the beginning, always ready to help out. and the way he blushed around you and quipped with you, you couldn’t help but think that maybe he also felt something? 

as the group started dispersing, you lingered near the room's entrance, feigning the need to adjust your cloak.

"hey," jungwon's voice startled you. he was packing his bag, a casual smile playing on his lips. "didn't head out yet?"

"actually," you began, fiddling with the strap of your bag, "there was something i wanted to ask you about."

his smile widened in invitation. "shoot."

you took a deep breath. "it's about dumbledore's army. we've been working on patronus charms lately, and well, i'm struggling a bit." shame tinged your cheeks. you weren't used to needing help with spells.

jungwon's expression softened with understanding. "a patronus charm, huh? tricky business, that. but hey, i might be able to offer some pointers."

relief washed over you. "really? that would be amazing!"

he gestured towards a secluded corner of the room. "come on, then. let's see what you're working with."

you settled onto the dusty floor, explaining your struggles. you could conjure a faint wisp of silvery light, but it was far from the actual form you needed. jungwon listened intently, occasionally asking clarifying questions.

"okay," he said once you finished, "it seems you've got the basic idea down. the key is focusing on a strong, happy memory. something that evokes a feeling of pure joy and warmth."

he saw your hesitant expression and chuckled. "don't worry, it's not a competition to see who has the most embarrassing childhood memory."

you forced a smile. "no, of course not." but your mind struggled to find that perfect memory.

jungwon seemed to sense your frustration. "close your eyes," he instructed gently. 

"take a deep breath and try to visualise a place that makes you feel truly happy. maybe a familiar place from your childhood, a special time with a friend, anything that brings a smile to your face."

you closed your eyes, following his guidance. images flickered through your mind – family picnics, winning a quidditch match, late-night talks with your best friend. but none of them seemed to spark the necessary warmth.

just as you were about to give up, a memory surfaced. a smile bloomed on your face. you opened your eyes and met jungwon's gaze. "i think i have it," you whispered.

he nodded encouragingly. "focus on that feeling. the warmth, the happiness, let it flow through you and into your wand."

you closed your eyes again, picturing the memory that brought you happiness. it was a little hazy as you tried to focus on the touch and sounds from that memory. with a deep breath, you pointed your wand forward and muttered the incantation.

a wisp of silvery light erupted from your wand, growing and solidifying into a shape. it wasn't perfect – the outline of a cat was more suggestion than a form – but it was a patronus. you had finally done it.

a cheer escaped your lips as you realised you had finally done it. you looked at jungwon, your heart brimming with gratitude. "i did it!"

he beamed, genuine pride radiating from him. "see? you're a natural. you just needed a little nudge in the right direction."

his words held a hint of something more, something that sent a shiver down your spine. you wanted to thank him properly, to express just how much his help meant to you. 

"thank you, jungwon," you murmured, your voice barely a whisper. you wished, however, that your patronus could solidify into something more impressive, something that truly reflected the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.

as if sensing your unspoken desire, jungwon stepped closer. his movements were subtle, almost hesitant. but before you could question it, he reached behind you, his hand gently wrapping around yours, enclosing both your hands and your wand within his hold.

a jolt of electricity shot through you at his touch. the air in the room crackled with a tension you hadn't noticed before. your focus on the patronus wavered momentarily, replaced by a hyper awareness of jungwon's warm torso pressed against your back, his fingers brushing against yours.

his warm breath fanned over your ear as he whispered even though there was no one around to hear you both, “now completely focus on that memory.”

the room seemed to shrink, the air growing thick with unspoken tension. you focused on the memory, it acting as a soothing anchor in the storm brewing inside you. but this time, something was different. the wispy light from your wand pulsed, growing brighter, solidifying. the faint outline of a cat sharpened, taking on a more defined form.

in the heightened focus, you were oblivious to everything except the memory and the warmth radiating from jungwon's hand on yours. the familiar nostalgia from the memory echoed in your mind, a beacon of happiness. with a burst of energy, a fully formed silver cat patronus materialised, leaping and frolicking around the room.

you gasped in awe, forgetting everything else. "it's perfect! it's actually a perfect patronus!" 

you jumped, unknowingly pushing yourself more into jungwon, making him wrap his hands loosely around you as he chuckled lowly. you spun around to share your joy with him.

but as you turned, your breath hitched. you were impossibly close to him, his hand still wrapped around yours, his face mere inches away. his eyes were dark and intense, a mirror of the emotions swirling within you. the air crackled with unspoken desire.

you leaned in, heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs. he tilted his head ever so slightly, his lips hovering a whisper away from yours. his breath hitched ever so slightly, as you both leaned in, the space between your lips closing with each passing second.

just as your lips were about to meet, jungwon pulled back abruptly. 

he cleared his throat, his hand falling away from yours. "that's... that's amazing," he stammered, his eyes flickering away from yours. "a perfect patronus. you really are something else."

his words held a strange distance, and a knot of unease tightened in your stomach. the electric tension that had thrummed in the air moments ago had dissipated, replaced by an awkward silence. you weren't sure what had happened, but embarrassment washed over you in suffocating waves. the joy of your achievement felt strangely hollow now.

your patronus immediately vanished into thin air, leaving a trail of sparkles behind.

the tension in the room receded as quickly as it had risen, leaving a bewildered silence in its wake. you blinked, confused and slightly disappointed. why did he stop?

"i, uh," he stammered, looking at his shoes, "i think it's getting late. maybe we should call it a night?"

did he regret the near kiss? or was there something else at play? 

you opened your mouth to ask, but the words wouldn't come. the magic of the patronus lingered, a bittersweet reminder of what could have been.

"yeah," you finally managed, your voice barely a whisper. "it's getting late."

jungwon offered a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes before gathering his things and hurrying towards the exit. you watched him go, a myriad of emotions swirling within you.

disappointment gnawed at you like a dementor during your potions class the next day. your potions professor, inspecting your bubbling concoction with a delighted smile, declared it "exactly by the book."

he beamed, announcing, "it appears the extra sessions have paid off! perhaps we can consider them concluded, wouldn't you agree?"

a lump formed in your throat. you glanced at jungwon, expecting a playful jab or a celebratory nod. but he simply shrugged, a noncommittal, ‘sounds good to me,’ escaping his lips.

the professor's words should have filled you with relief. you were back on track, independent once more. yet, as the class ended, all you felt was a hollow emptiness. you caught jungwon's eye for a fleeting moment, hoping for a familiar spark or a shared grin. instead, he averted his gaze, muttering a hurried goodbye and hurried out of the classroom.

this became a pattern over the next few days. in the hallways, where you once exchanged playful jibes, jungwon now seemed to melt into the background whenever you approached. shared classes were endured in a tense silence, his friendly demeanour replaced by a distant politeness. 

you replayed the scene in the room of requirement over and over in your head, desperately trying to pinpoint where you'd gone wrong. 

had you misread the tension? had you moved too fast, startled him with your sudden boldness?

one evening, you found yourself lingering outside the room of requirement, the usual meeting place for dumbledore's army. you weren't sure why you were there, perhaps a desperate hope that jungwon would appear. the door creaked open, and your best friend peeked out.

"lost something?" she asked, her brow quirked in concern.

you shook your head, the words refusing to form.

"everything alright?" she pressed gently, her perceptive eyes searching yours.

you sighed, finally blurting out, "it's jungwon. did i…did i do something wrong?"

her knowing smile softened the blow. "ah," she said, pulling you into a hug. "sometimes, the most powerful potions are brewed in silence, simmering with unspoken emotions."

her words offered little comfort, but they planted a seed in your mind. maybe rushing something as delicate as what you felt for jungwon wasn't the way. maybe patience, like the perfect potion, required time and the right balance of ingredients. you resolved to let things cool, to focus on mastering your spells and potions, hoping that maybe, one day, the right opportunity would present itself, and the spark you shared with jungwon wouldn't need words to reignite.

screw whatever you thought before. you couldn't wait for that ‘one day’ to come as you watched your classmate, a girl with hair like spun sunshine, practically cling to jungwon's arm in herbology. they were bent over, giggling like pixies at a particularly stubborn gillyweed.

fury replaced the embers of hope your friend had ignited. who was this girl? had he moved on that quickly? 

jealousy bubbled in your stomach as you stalked away from the window, hurt settling in your chest. but you were determined to make things right, even if it meant making your friendship(?) with him awkward, you needed to know what went wrong. 

the bell signalling the end of class was your cue. you bolted out, weaving through students, your eyes locked on jungwon. he noticed you coming, a flicker of surprise crossing his face, but before he could react, you were upon him.

he was walking with the sunshine-haired girl, lost in their own conversation, until a breathless, "jungwon!" ripped him from it. he turned, eyes widening further when he saw your determined, (slightly crazed) expression.

"uh, hi?" he stammered, glancing between you and the girl who stood blinking at you both, confused.

"excuse me," you said politely through gritted teeth to the girl, who, thankfully, scurried off with a mumbled ‘see you later, jungwon.’

now, alone with the reason of your anger and surging jealousy, you grabbed his arm and steered him away from the castle grounds. you marched him past the greenhouses until you reached a secluded clearing near the black lake. there, with a flourish that would have earned you points in charms class, you pinned him against a sturdy oak tree.

he stared at you, bewildered, as your chest heaved. "okay," he started cautiously, "what's going on?"

"what's going on?" you sputtered, finally finding your voice. "what's going on is, i thought we had...something!" you gestured wildly towards the castle, where you could still see a flicker of sunshine hair disappear around a corner.

jungwon blinked, then a slow blush crept up his neck. "we...we do! we had potions tutoring sessions, remember?"

you threw your hands up in exasperation. "ugh, not tutoring! this…this unspoken thing we have!"

his blush deepened, and he mumbled something inaudible under his breath.

"what?" you demanded.

he took a deep breath. "look, about that night in the room of requirement..."

"yes?" you leaned in, heart pounding.

he cleared his throat. "maybe i… i overreacted. i wasn't sure what you were feeling, and…"

he trailed off, his gaze dropping to the ground. you gaped at him, realising the truth. you hadn't scared him off, he'd scared himself off! 

but there was more. a flicker of insecurity crossed his eyes. "and to be honest," he admitted sheepishly, "the real reason i've been avoiding you… well, it's because i was trying to figure out how to tell you something...something big."

you blinked. here you were, fuming about a nonexistent threat, while jungwon had been battling his own insecurities. the situation was hilarious, almost. but mostly, it was endearing.

a slow smile spread across your face. "well, spill it, jungwon. don't leave me in suspense."

he fumbled with his words, cheeks burning a fiery red. "it's about...well, ever since the beginning of this year, i’ve looked at you…in a different light."

your heart thrummed erratically now, hoping he was getting to where you wanted him to.

"...and, well, you're not just funny and smart, you're kind and brave, and the way you laugh at my stupid jokes, it just makes me..." his voice trailed off, his eyes pleading with yours. 

his rambling was adorable, but the knot of frustration in your stomach tightened with every nervous stammer. you couldn't take it anymore.

grabbing him by the collar, you silenced him with a kiss. it started desperate, fueled by the need to know his true feelings, but as his lips met yours, it melted into something sweeter. you poured your unspoken emotions into that kiss, the frustration, the longing, the dawning hope. 

suddenly, jungwon spun you around, switching your positions so that you were pushed against the tree now. your breath hitched in surprise at his sudden show of confidence. he dove back into the kiss, his soft lips moving against yours in fervour. the intensity of your kiss increased along with your pulse and you were pretty sure jungwon could feel it with the way he was pressed up against you

when he finally pulled back, breathless and dizzy, a different kind of silence hung in the air.

jungwon stared at you as your cheeks flushed a brilliant crimson, mirroring the sunset bleeding across the lake. finally, a smile bloomed on his face, genuine and relieved. 

"see," he breathed, voice husky, "that was much easier than all that."

you laughed, a genuine sound that echoed through the clearing. relief washed over you, warm and tingly. "i should be the one saying that" you teased.

“yeah well i chickened out”, he scratched his head in embarrassment, “i wanted my confession to be perfect.”

you smirked, “yeah well what you pulled right now was very romantic. i didn’t know you had that in you.”

he rolled his eyes playfully and grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. “you liked it though. let’s head back now, it’s almost time for dinner.”

you smiled as you walked in step with him, swinging your intertwined hands back and forth. he squeezed your hand with a cheeky grin on his face.  you returned the squeeze looking up at him in question, when his next words had a blush blooming on your face.

“i hope you’re going to pay me back for those lessons with more of such kisses.”

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 ©𝗴𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆𝘆 on Tumblr

˚ · .𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱

[humanpurposes]

Hi hiiii I couldn’t resist to not slide into your inbox and request a Christmas fic based on this prompt with a Aemond who isn’t used to his girl’s flirty behavior and gets flustered soo easily👀 you can totally ignore this if you don’t like it<3333

“Since I can’t ride in Santa’s sleigh, can I ride you instead?” “Sorry, what?”

HI RUE ✨ Kinda put my own spin on this but I'm sure you'll love it <3

Can I Ride You Instead?

modern!Aemond x reader

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: smut, Aemond being a workaholic while his girl has needs

A/n: It's tiiiiime, happy 1st December!!

Main Masterlist // Christmas Masterlist

One more night in King’s Landing. You look out from the window at the lights in the city; street lamps; lively pubs; offices that have been abandoned until new year; and all the festive lights lining the highstreets. Conquest Street is your favourite place to be this time of year. You love the displays in the shop windows, the market in the square, the little wooden huts selling scarves and handmade jewellery, the smell of mulled wine, sugar and cinnamon, almost tangible in your nose and on your tongue. What you wouldn’t give to be there right now.

Aemond’s apartment is bleak by comparison. He doesn’t see the point in decorations, not when he’ll be spending Christmas at his family’s estate– at Dragonstone, Christmas is Alicent’s territory. Aemond’s place is clean, lit by lowlights with no bursts of colour or fairy lights and no tree.

He’s sitting at the dining table. The cold glare of his laptop shines over his face and reflects in the lenses of his glasses.

This boy never takes a break.

Term technically doesn’t end until tomorrow but everyone you know has already gone home to make the most of the break. Not Aemond. He wants to stay for as long as possible. He doesn’t talk about his family much, but you can put pieces together. You booked your own train ticket home according to his because you could think of nothing worse than leaving him alone on the run up to Christmas.

“Sit down, you’re making me anxious,” Aemond says, not looking up from the screen.

He’s been on the verge of irritation all day. You’re in the kitchen trying to make hot chocolate? Too much noise, he says. You’re at the dining table wrapping presents for your parents? Too distracting.

You take slow steps across the floor, behind his chair, draping yourself over his shoulders. He’s working on some project for an internship and simultaneously trying to get ahead on the research for his dissertation.

You love how he looks when he’s focused, the frown that means he’s utterly absorbed in what he’s doing. It’s not quite so endearing when he could be focusing on you instead.

Your arms wrap around him. He pushes his glasses up and puts a hand over yours, a featherlight touch. You want more.

“It’s getting late you say,” letting your lips ghost over his temple.

“It’s not even six.”

“You should take a break. We could order food?”

“Yeah, when I’m done with this, I just need to–”

“Aemond.”

Your arms fall away from him and he looks up at you with a slow breath. His expression is soft, his eyes slightly hooded, his lips fallen. He knows he's upset you.

“Aemond, it’s our last night together before Christmas.”

He shuts the lid of his laptop and leaves his glasses on the table. As much as you love how he looks with them on, there’s something about the unobstructed view of his face that never fails to take your breath away. Especially his eyes, one blue, one glass and made to imitate a sapphire, framed in a neat scar running down the left side of his face, an injustice of childhood.

He leans forward, snaking his hands to your waist, pulling you in towards him. 

It’s an unfair move really. Suddenly all you want to do is run your fingers through his silver hair, tilt his chin up, hold his face in your hands.

“You’re right, darling,” he says, stroking his thumbs in circles where they fall against your belly. You feel the pressure of it through the knit jumper you wear. “Let’s go out. Pub? Restaurant? What’s the market thing on Conquest Street, didn’t you mention that a while ago?”

“It’s a bit late to go out now, I’d have to get ready.”

“We’ll stay in and watch a Christmas movie then, yeah?”

“I didn’t think you’d be in the mood for something festive.”

He makes a quick face. Not that long ago you’d tried to get him to watch The Muppet Christmas Carol, and he was far from impressed. What horrors will you have in store for him next? “Whatever you want. I want whatever you want.”

You coax him to the sofa, big and plush and expensive. Aemond throws a blanket over the two of you and with a few taps of his phone arranges the food. Without much deliberation you put on Love Actually, meeting Aemond’s eye with a wide grin.

He hides his face in his hands but survives the ordeal.

By the time the credits are rolling it’s not particularly late, but you’re dreading the morning. You’ll have to wake up early, pack a bag, then you and Aemond will go to the train station together and go your separate ways until the new year. A whole two weeks apart.

You cozy up to him, breathe in the smell of his aftershave.

“What now, another film?” He asks, trying to find the remote.

Another idea pops into your head. “We could do something else?”

Aemond catches your eye, trying not to smile. “Now let me think, what else could we possibly do, hmm?” He’s awful at playing coy and has been since the moment you met him. He’s too observant, too intent on the details to play dumb.

“Well,” you say, tracing fingertips along the material of his sweats, over his thigh, “since it is the season, and I can’t ride Santa’s sleigh, can I ride you instead?”

His mouth bursts into a messy smile. “Sorry, what?”

You mean to huff out of annoyance but it comes out like a laugh. “I’m trying to be cute!”

Aemond takes your chin in his fingers and your body freezes. “You really don’t need to try,” he says, and leans in to capture your lips with his.

The way Aemond kisses makes you melt every time. He’s slow and commanding, like he’s savouring every precious moment. His hands slide underneath your jumper, dragging along your skin to hold your waist. The promise of what will come next puts you on edge.

Sparse gasps for breath hum in the back of your throat. Aemond smiles against your lips and holds you tighter, dragging you to straddle his lap. He pulls away from your mouth, to your frustration, and places a wide palm at your navel, the waist of your jeans. “Stand up, need to get these off.”

You move off him and go to undo the top button, but Aemond grabs your wrists and pulls you closer. You watch as he smiles slightly, his fingers moving to undo the button and the zip. He’s teasing you, drawing out the anticipation as much as he can. 

You sigh in relief once they’re off, dragging them down your legs, tossing them aside and coming back to straddle Aemond. 

His hands settle at your thighs. “Look at you, so eager, hmm?”

“You can’t blame me, you’ve been ignoring me all day,” you say, grinding your clothed core against the bulge in his sweats. You can be teasing too, with drawn out movements of your hips.

Aemond’s jaw tightens. You can see he’s trying to stay smug. “Well, we’re fixing that now.”

You press a kiss to his cheek while your fingertips curl at the top of his sweats, dragging them down enough to free his cock. He’s taught you what he likes and if you were feeling patient you might have come to your knees before him, but at the slightest touch of Aemond’s fingertips against the fabric over your clit, you know what you need.

He pulls your panties to the side, dragging you along his leaking cock with a hand at your lower back. He’s hard and you’re achingly wet. He holds you where he wants you, lining himself up to pull you down onto his length. The stretch is sharp and sweet, hollowing you out and filling you perfectly. 

Aemond’s head falls against the back of the sofa as you sink down.

“Does it feel good?” you tease him.

He’s breathless, helplessly watching the space where your bodies meet. “Fuck, perfect little pussy– feels so good,”

You cradle your arms around his head as you ride him, unhurried, hands restless as you feel his hair and the sides of his face, along his jaw.

Aemond hardly has to do anything, as soon as his fingertips are on your clit you feel your spine straighten and something inside you tighten. He circles over you lazily, watching your face with a soft, admiring kind of amusement. 

“Right there,” you whisper, “don’t fucking stop.”

“Are you gonna come for me, darling?”

Your thighs are burning at the effort but you don’t care. You’re so close, so close.

“Beg me,” Aemond murmurs.

A slew of slurred and breathless pleas fall from your lips. You can feel the slickness between your legs, how easily he glides over you, how deep his cock reaches inside of you, pushing against the right spot.

Aemond hums as he grabs your hips with his free hand, fucking you faster and harder until you’re falling apart, convulsing, melting. 

You fall against Aemond, holding each other closer as you wait for the deliriousness to fade away. Suddenly the air is unbearably cold. You cling to Aemond, to his warmth, content in his arms.

“Happy with your ride?” Aemond asks. You can hear him grinning.

You lift your head and rest it against his shoulder. The light of the TV catches in his features, his jaw, his cheeks, his nose, the details of grey in his right eye and the unnatural bright blue of his left.

“Can I go again?”

Aemond leans into you, pressing his nose against yours. “You can ride me as many times as you want, darling.”

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[rhysazriel]

Sticky Situation [Band!Azriel]

SUMMARY: With the summers heat blazing a little too hot, Azriel struggles to keep his grip on control when it comes to you and an ice pop. (1.6k)

WARNINGS: swearing, smut; dirty talk, blowjobs, spitting, Az having a very vivid and sinful imagination.

A/N: it’s been a hot minute since I’ve given you guys anything new so here we go! This is a rewrite of an old fic for a previous fandom I used to write for. I've wanted to play about with a band AU for a little while and thought rewritting this to Azriel would be a good place to start.

Azriel’s head often finds itself wedged in the gutter when certain things have the potential to be taken in a different, more suggestive way. He doesn’t exactly go out of his way to find dirty innuendos in people’s conversations, his mind just willingly takes him there before an innocent thought can come first.

Oftentimes, Azriel will try to hide his amusement at the dirty thought; purse his lips and bow his head to hide his growing grin and mischievous eyes. But there are also times where Azriel doesn’t bother biting his tongue and giggles like a relentless schoolboy who doesn’t know a thing about sex.

But Azriel knows all the things about sex. It’s never been a secret that he’s well experienced in that department, though often stays quiet when the topic rises through casual conversation with friends. Azriel is private about a lot of things when it comes to keeping his personal life out of the public eye and he often takes the same approach when it comes to discussing past sexual partners with his friends after a few drinks.

Tonight isn’t much different. Everyone is back in the studio after a long day of Azriel’s angelic voice and Cassian shredding the guitar. You joined them almost four hours ago after work and since your arrival, the little studio has only grown hotter and hotter and you’re borderline sweltering.

You’ve all had a couple of drinks (not that they were allowed in the studios) and your cheeks have been burning from the effects of the alcohol for over an hour. You’re laying on the floor, knees bent and feet flat as you pat the beat to Azriel’s song on your stomach. Azriel sits on the sofa beside you, flared trousers and that yellow t-shirt. He’s gazing down at you, a lazy grin on his lips and brows slightly raised as he nods to the beat.

You’re about to reach the best part, the beat that sets your body in blazes of fire when the music is abruptly switched off and you’re sitting up with furrowed brows and tightly pursed lips. Nesta stands at the doorway, paper bag in her hand and a golden grin on her lips.

She empties the contents of the bag on the end of the sofa, six red and blue popsicles bouncing off each other. You squeal in delight, your heart fluttering in the excitement of finally having something to cool your heated state down.

You waste no time to tear the wrapper from a cherry flavoured lolly, your fingers gripping the end of the stick as you bring it to your lips. Azriel grimaces as he watches everyone do the same, squirming at how the icy treat already begins to melt in the stuffy air of the little studio booth.

Azriel eyes the spare one up but decides against it. The last thing he wants is a sticky hand and a brain freeze. He decides he’ll just sweat it out. But as he turns back to you, your eyes are fluttering closed and your lips are stretched deliciously around the lolly as you sink your mouth down on it until your lips close again around the base.

His throat feels dry and he can feel himself struggling in his loose pants. Azriel watches you slowly pull back off it, a soft hum sounding through your chest as a wet kissy noise punctures his ears and your eyes flutter open again—soaked, pink tongue darting over your swollen lips.

His mind is reeling, his cock stiffening and oozing. What the fuck? Azriel’s always adored you as a person. A bubbly personality and a radiant smile. You’ve always been a close friend of his, someone he often confided in and could trust and vent to. And he’s always found you attractive, but never once has he looked at you like this and he doesn’t know what to do.

Your eyes are hooded and somewhat heavy and he knows it’s from the effects of the alcohol but that dirty part of him is wondering if that’s what you’d look like fucked out on his cock. Oh, God… what’s gotten into him? Azriel can’t shake the thoughts from his head, though. The more he tries, the stronger they are, the clearer he can see his little fantasy play out in front of him.

You’re on your knees, just inches from where he sits. Your hair is a mess and your skin is dotted with a sheen layer of sweat and fuck does he want to taste you. Your lips are swollen from the icy treat and it drips down your thumb just a little. You’re caught in conversation with Nesta but you dip your head down and your undoubtedly skilled tongue laps up the juice.

Azriel just about loses it, standing abruptly and leaving the studio booth. He ignores everyone’s calls, only one thing on his mind: you. His cock is growing harder with every rushed step he takes and as he bursts into the bathroom, he tugs his pants down and slides the bolt across the lock.

His back is pressed against it, head thrown back and his hand is around his cock in lightning speed. Heavy breaths flutter through his chest as he squeezes his generous length. He feels dirty, sinful. He shouldn’t be getting off to the thought of you sucking his cock like you sucked the lolly, but he is and the wrongness of it all makes it even more exciting.

Azriel’s eyes flutter closed, shaky breaths slipping past his lonely lips. His lashes lay delicately across his cheekbones and his scarred, ringed fingers send chills up his spine. He reaches his thumb around to his tip, smearing his arousal across his head and jutting his hips defiantly into his fist.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he rasps, and behind his closed lids, he can see you on your knees for him, pretty lashes fluttering as you stare up at him with your dainty hand wrapped around his throbbing dick. He feels himself twitch in his hand at the sight. His imagination has always gotten away with him.

“So pretty for me, baby. Such a good girl,” he sighs breathlessly, chest heaving and beads of salty sweat begin to dot across his tattooed skin. 

He sees you smirk up at him, a sinister glimmer in those innocent eyes. He can feel your tongue smooth across his shaft before your lips curl around his head. He can feel you sink down on him, the velvety feeling of your soaked cheeks as they hollow around his length, feel his tip nudging softly against the back of your throat.

“Fuck,” he drawls out, spare hand clenching into a fist and his head rolls back again. He wants to reach for your hair, to grab a handful and tug, force your face further down his thick cock but you’re not there. He pumps himself faster, adding a generous squeeze to his base as he twists expertly, imagining the way you’d rub what you couldn’t fit in that heavenly mouth of yours.

“Good girl, baby. Keep sucking for me, just like that,” Azriel’s dick is throbbing, head pinky-purple and his knees are jittering. His tip is leaking uncontrollably, his cock soaked from his own arousal and he wishes to fucking God it was your spit or the arousal from your pussy instead. His jaw falls slack at the thought.

Now he can’t get your pussy out of his head. Can’t stop picturing your swollen lips and pulsing clit. The image is so fucking vivid; the idea of him peeling your thighs apart and inhaling your sweet scent, spreading a finger through your soft folds and swirling his digit around your arousal, spreading the wetness all over your cunt.

Azriel’s pace picks up and he can feel a burning sensation in the pit of his stomach. He keeps going, faster and faster. He can imagine teasing your little hole, wrapping his lips around your nub and sucking the sweet moans out of you, fucking a finger in your tight cunt and curling against that spot he knows would have your toes curling.

Azriel can see it all, your full breasts bouncing, nipples pearling and chest heaving. He can see you throwing your head back, your jaw-dropping slack and filthy fucking moans slipping from that sinful tongue. He can almost feel how tight your pussy is, how wet and warm it feels around him. He can hear the sounds drumming through his ears; your cunt squelching with every thrust as you suckle his fingers into your warm mouth.

He can imagine you begging him for more, desperate and eager. “Need your cock, baby. Harder, Azzy. Fuck!” His cock spasms in his tight grip, his face reddening as the veins in his forehead and neck begin to pop. Azriel’s a grunting mess as he chases his high, can see you back on your knees again, grinning up at him as you milk him for everything he has.

His vision is white, eyes closed but he can still see that devilish face with the halo over your head, wrapped around those red horns. “Ugh, fuck,” he cries out, falling back against the door and he cums, long and hard; thick ribbons of white arousal, his knees buckling as he gasps for breath through his high.

In his mind, he’s come all over your face and you’re licking it all up, jaw wide and tongue awaiting a taste impatiently. But when he opens his eyes, his hand and fingers are soaked in his salty arousal and he’s fucked, trying to ease his breathing as he blinks away the white spots of pleasure and focuses back on what’s real.

His cock softens in his hold, arm aching and as he releases his dick, his fingers stretch and strings of his pleasure are found laced between his fingers. Azriel sighs out a fucked laugh and does nothing to bite back the smile that makes its way on his face.

Guess he ended up with a sticky hand after all.

Thank you for reading!! If you enjoyed it, please consider giving it a reblog and leaving some feedback!! <3

[yoonia]

tears of the sea (m) | kth

— title: The Forsaken II: Tears of the Sea | pairings: Taehyung x female reader| genre: Siren!Taehyung, Smut, Mystery, Slight Horror | word count: 6,350 words

— summary: after a long time spent apart, he finally came in the night, accompanied by the soft, haunting serenade which he has been singing for you since the day you left, putting your broken souls together back into one.

— ratings & warnings: +18 / M for mature; curses, black magic, siren’s spell, mention of hypnotism, mention of pregnancy and child birth, body horror (shape-shifting), body worship (mentions of body dysmorphia), explicit smut scenes: nudity, fingering, oral sex (female receiving), breast play, clit play, public sex (sex on the beach), unprotected sex, rough sex, cum eating, multiple orgasms. 

— original: The Forsaken by @yoonia — fic drop date: Oct 24th, 2024 — song companion: half the world away — written as part of my 2024 birthday bash event, 𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖋𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖆𝖉𝖊, created based on this request. 

How many nights have you done something like this?

To find yourself walking across the beach, over the jagged rocks lining the water’s edge, with the steady waves crashing over your feet and ankles. 

On most nights, you would find yourself drawn to the sea by the ghostly sounds of a tune, serenading you to come out of your shelter before it would fade into the night. Other nights, you would come out here with the hope of seeing a shadow of a movement dancing between the waves, to see the sight of a figure that had been filling your dreams, of seeing rough viridescent scales slinking across the water when you look on towards the night. 

The only times you stopped visiting the water’s edge had been the night your daughter was born, and the many nights after when you were still too weak to travel out into the night and onto the seashore.

And those nights had been the most peculiar moment of your life. The alluring tune you heard kept echoing from the sea each time your newborn baby girl was crying and you were too exhausted and spent to soothe her. Yet those tunes had always managed to calm her down, just the way it eased your lonely soul, as if there was some kind of a magic force flowing through the night, through the water, coming in the waves, just to help make your baby girl—and you—feel safe. 

And now you are back here, just like the many nights that have passed since six months ago, when your baby was born, lured towards the water’s edge at the sound of the same tune serenading for you to come. 

Out here, there are no lights to guide you. Nothing but the glowing moonlight falling from above. You look back over your shoulder towards your cabin on the top of the nearest hill, where your baby girl had just fallen asleep in her crib. 

Leaving her behind feels heavy. If not for Mira, the young local girl you recently hired to be her caretaker, you would have never been able to step out of your temporary home. The home that was built by the people of the tribe for you to reside. To welcome you as a part of them, even when you never felt like you had truly become one of them. 

The island of Parram. 

You arrived here one year ago in your boat after a long journey. All because of the Fountain of Life, the source of magic that would be able to restore life and prosperity. Everything that your island—your tribe, your people—needed needed for the sake of their survival. 

But that long journey had given you more than one blessing. 

Not only had you found the Fountain of Life and the Elder who had learned about the magic and how to use it to save your home island, but you have also been blessed with the birth of your baby girl. 

The latter had been the reason why you are still here on this island, while your travel companion, Namjoon, and Elder Moira travelled across the sea to bring home the magic from the Fountain of Life. The presence of your child and your steady recovery from childbirth had been deemed too risky for you to challenge the journey home. So you stayed, even if only for a while. 

Your moment of wondering about life and the mystery of your fate is suddenly disrupted by a rough, splashing sound coming from the nearby waters. It sounds nothing like the steady waves; so abrupt and violent, that it immediately draws your attention towards the dark waters by the shore. 

And that is when you see it; a sparkle of viridescent scales slinking between the jagged rocks breaking apart the waves, before it slips into the darkness and disappears into the water’s edge. 

Heart pounding, you hike up the front of your nightdress and hastily rush towards where the sparkle of scales had faded into. The rocks feel sharp against the soles of your feet, and the water feels cold on your skin, soaking the ends of your dress, yet you keep going, searching, until you see a figure rising in the dark. 

You are breathless when you come to a halt. Your heart is pounding when you see him. 

Standing between some high, unruly rocks, with crashing waves rising as tall as his shoulders and dark, wet sand beneath his feet, he stands on unsteady legs, as if being on land has taken away his sense of gravity. 

And he is glowing. 

The sight draws a gasp out of you. It seems magical. Enchanting. And then your eyes slowly adjust to the bleakness of the night and soon notice what is making him appear as if he is emitting lights. 

Just like how his legs are still trying to adjust to land, his skin is taking its time to shift. As you take a few steps closer, you can finally see them; the bright, viridescent scales on his skin which are still present, glistening as they reflect the bright moonlight coming from the night sky above. 

Slowly, the scales begin to melt into his skin. In their places, dots of redness appear, until they all fade and his skin turns smooth right in front of your eyes. 

The last time you met, the scales on his skin, the gills that appeared on the sides of his neck and ribs—which had now melted into smooth skin, with nothing but fading red lines left behind—and other changes on his facial features, had all frightened you enough to let out a scream. Looking at him now, with the remnants of his true appearance slowly fading away, he looks—beautiful. 

Truly beautiful. 

You look up just as he slowly raises his head, quickly realising that you are not the only one who has changed. His body appears bigger, stronger, with more solid muscles growing on his limbs and chest and less scar marring his skin. His hair has grown longer, framing his face as they fall under the weight of the water soaking each strand. 

You don’t realise that you have reached him until he lifts his head, and his face appears so close to you. His eyes glow in bright, golden yellow, looking inhuman for a brief moment until he blinks, and a pair of dark eyes are looking back at you. His gaze is filled with longing and sorrow, one that you can immediately feel in your chest as you return his gaze with your own. 

His lips, which have been in your dreams for many nights since you were apart, twist into a smile. “You’re here,” he says in his deep voice which sounds almost like a serenade. 

Just like his voice, his whole presence feels like an enchantment, a magic spell that keeps pulling you towards him, that you are brought closer and closer. Close enough that you can almost feel the warmth of his skin without touching. 

“I—” You try to speak, yet the words are caught on your tongue. You have so many things to say to him that you have no idea where to start. Instead, you slowly reach up, brushing the wet strands of his hair away from his face so you can get a better look at him. 

“Taehyung,” you gasp the moment you touch him. The moment you feel him. “Is this real? Are you really here? Is this not a dream?” 

His smile softens as he lifts a hand to cup your cheek. “It’s real. I am here,” he says with a soft hum. “I’ve travelled far just to see you again.” 

You sink into his touch, and an incredulous laughter slips out of you when you hear his words. “That’s the part that is so hard to believe,” you say with a chuckle, drawing his own when you glance over his shoulder. “How—? I doubt that you used a boat to get here.” 

He gently shakes his head. “I have better ways,” he says, a playful glint in his eyes. 

You almost laugh again, knowing what he means. Then an uneasy tightness grows in your chest as you imagine him swimming all the way here. Another thought crosses your mind when you remember about the cave where he was confined in. The cursed place where you first met. 

“You managed to escape the cave.” His gaze finds yours, surprised to know that you had somehow found out about his secret. 

“I learned about your kind,” you explain with a wry smile. “You wanted to keep me in that cave.” At your accusation, remorse fills his eyes. “I know what you—sirens—do with humans. Were you planning to…did you cast magic on me so you could…” 

Taehyung stops you from finishing your sentence by pressing his thumb on your lips. “My magic never worked on you,” he says, admitting his secret with a pained tone of voice. 

“I wanted to keep you. I’ve been confined in that cave for so long, I lost track of time. Days blended into weeks, months, years, perhaps decades to hundred years had passed since, and I was lonely,” he continues to admit. “But it was your magic which allured me, enchanted me until I was falling helpless in your presence.” 

You merely shake your head, refusing to believe him. Mostly the part where he said you have some kind of magic in you. 

“I was wrong to even think that I could keep you, to even think about holding you captive just to keep me company, when it meant for eternity,” he says with a resigned sigh. Then, lowering his head to rest his forehead against yours, he gently whispers, “Forgive me.” 

“You’ve already been forgiven,” you admit to him with a soft voice, and relief washes over him. 

He looks at you again. “He left you here. Your friend.” There is a bite of bitterness and anger in his voice at the mention of your travel companion, Namjoon. And you cannot even blame him for it, knowing what Namjoon had done to him.

The image of Taehyung hurting, wounded by Namjoon’s arrows when he came to rescue you—who came barging into the cave, believing that he was protecting you from a monster—and left bleeding in that cave, alone, still haunts you to this day.  

“He has other responsibilities, while I was—” You stop yourself from continuing, not sure how to reveal about the child that you carried after the one night you spent with him. You continue instead to tell him about how Namjoon had to return to your home island to bring home the cure to your declining land, to marry his betrothed—just like how he was always meant to—and bring Elder Moira, the grand Healer, to meet your father. 

“I couldn’t travel with, so I stayed,” you continue, omitting the fact that you were too heavily pregnant to join Namjoon in his journey home. 

Biting your lips, you look up to see his eyes, only to find him smiling. 

“I know why you stayed,” he murmurs, his eyes trailing down to follow his hands as he lowers them to your covered torso, brushing at the slightly swollen flesh which has yet to recover after carrying the child inside you for nine whole months. 

“You knew,” you can barely say those words without getting your breath caught in your throat. 

“I was there with you the entire time you carried her in you, even if only in my spirit,” he says, his gaze finding yours again. “The curse that was holding me back in that cave was broken when we got together and our child was conceived. That’s how I knew.”  

As relief washes through you, your hands fall from his face to his shoulders, slowly moving lower to his bare chest. You react with a gasp at the touch of his skin, having been too enamoured by his presence and his alluring voice, you have failed to realise that he has been standing there with you, completely naked. Bare to nothing but his skin, instead of the bone-coloured tunic and soft, tattered pants that he wore when you first found him in that cave. 

Seeing him this way, and thinking about the night you spent with him in the cave, gets you feeling warm inside. Heat begins to coil in your belly, unfolding through your chest while drifting down south. As does your gaze, as it travels down his body, following the trail of lines of muscles on his chest, to the V-line below his toned torso, and then—

Sensing where your attention and your mind have drifted towards, Taehyung slips a hand to the nape of your neck. He gently brings your face closer to his, making you look up at him while lowering his head until his lips are touching yours. 

“I’ve missed you,” he murmurs against your lips, before he gives a deep, gentle kiss, stealing your breath, your thoughts, your everything away until it all fades into pure lust. 

As you return the kiss, you no longer remember where you are. The sea fades into the back of your mind. The sound of the steady waves chasing each other becomes white noise, drowned under the sound of your heartbeat. The uneasy feeling that has been plaguing you—all from having been stuck in a land which you cannot find it in you to call home—is no longer gripping at your chest, replaced by a sense of belonging which manifests under his touch. 

With your arms wrapped around his neck, your chest pressed against his, and your mouth being devoured in his kiss, you are lost in his warmth. You melt into his embrace as Taehyung wraps his arms around your waist, bending you backwards as he deepens the kiss. 

With your bodies moulded to one another, you can feel his arousal pressing down against your lower belly. It draws some intense heat rising inside you, warmth pulsing from between your legs as you rub your hips against his. 

Your mind grows so hazy with lust that you almost believe you are floating from the sensation of his kiss when you feel like you can no longer feel the ground beneath your feet. It takes you a moment to realise that Taehyung has lifted you in his arms. You react with a gasp, breaking away from the kiss to tighten your hold around him to keep yourself from falling over. 

Yet he holds you steady in his arms, with his unwavering smile on his face as he carries you away from the jagged rocks, away from the rough waves and the rising tide, and from the wet sand that has been soiling the ends of your nightdress. He carries you across the rest of the way until he reaches the cliffs wall where he finds a flat slab of rock to lie you gently down on. 

Grinning wickedly, he crawls over you, pressing his lips gently on yours as he teases, “Should we take this time to reminisce our first night together?”  

You cannot help but laugh, but you also cannot stop the heat rising in your skin from having the chance to reminisce and repeat that night all over again. A do-over in a new place, where you can see the ocean of stars filling the wide sky above you instead of being in an enclosed cave with nothing but walls of rocks around you. 

Your laughter dies down as he once again captures your lips with his, distracting you from the work of his hands as he gently peels your nightdress and undergarments off of your skin. Soon, you are left just as bare as he is, naked as the day you were born, with the pulse of your desire building between your legs. 

Taehyung pulls away from the kiss, giving you the chance to breathe. Only to quickly steal your breath again when his hand reaches down, lifting your left thigh up to open your legs. Cold breeze touches your skin, and then his fingers find your center, pressing at your slick heat.  

“Taehyung,” you gasp at his touch. “Oh, heavens.” 

Pressing his lips on your bare shoulder, you feel his deep chuckle as he gently pushes a finger into your hot entrance. “You are so wet, beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin, and your heart stutters at the sweet endearment that he had once used to call you when you were with him for the first time. For him to be using it again brings back the memory of you surrendering to your carnal desire. To him. 

“I’ve waited for so long for this,” he whispers, sounding desperate that his voice trembles. 

Running your hand up the back of his neck, you slip your fingers between the strands of his hair and whisper, “So do I.” 

Hearing this pleases him, and he quickly presses his lips on yours again, kissing you gently until you nearly melt to lax beneath him. At the sound of your muffled hum, he begins moving his hand, pushing and pulling his finger in and out of you, over and over again until your breath grows ragged and your body grows even hotter. With his thumb, he finds your clit, pressing on it as he adds another digit into your pulsing walls. 

“Oh!” you cry out when the pleasure comes to you in waves. Building up and rising over you, engulfing you until you feel like you are floating high in bliss. He continues until you feel it coming, your legs quaking around his hips and you begin raising your hips to meet each thrust of his fingers. 

While Taehyung is busy working his hand in your heat, his mouth begins to trail lower, down the column of your throat, to your shoulder, not stopping until he captures the pebbled tip of your breast in his mouth. Cries of pleasure keep slipping out of your mouth as he suckles, licks, and lightly bites on your hardened nipple. His hand remains steady, moving at a slow pace to bring your pleasure to its peak. Then he releases your nub with a pop, before moving to the other breast where he does the same. 

The pleasure feels too much, it almost feels like you are falling over the edge with nothing to hold on to. Your fingers slip out of his hair as he begins to move again, crawling his way down. You watch through hazy gaze as he trails kisses down your body, still relentless in his work of hand, and then—

“Oh, dear Gods!”

Your hips rise higher as Taehyung dips between your legs, burying his face so he can kiss your slick heat. With his fingers still moving inside you, he moves his thumb away and his mouth takes its place. 

“Taehyung—!” 

Once again, your hands find leverage by burying your fingers through the strands of his wet hair. With your grasp, you press his face deeper, while each steady rocking of your hips keeps pushing your center onto his mouth and his fingers deeper into you. 

It doesn’t take long before you finally unravel. The coil in your core snaps, and you are engulfed in the intense waves of your orgasm, with his fingers buried inside your heat still and his mouth latched around your throbbing clit. 

“That’s it, beautiful. I love it when you cum,” he murmurs against your heat, his lips still ghosting over your throbbing center, as if he has yet enough to drink your essence. “You taste so good,” he says between licks, “I’ve craved for this for so long.” 

You cry out once more when a smaller spasm rocks through your body at the touch of his lips on your nether region. Then you feel a void forming inside you when he pulls his fingers out of you. Still lost in bliss, you barely feel the touch of his wet lips pressing on your skin as he slowly crawls his way up, trailing kisses on your stomach—right across the stretch marks on your skin which has made you feel unconfident, as if he is worshipping them with his lips—and up to your heaving chest, brushing his lips from one breast to another, and continues his way up until his lips are on yours. 

He is biting and kissing you gently one second, and then devouring you like a beast, taking everything that you have to offer while letting you taste the heady scent of your release from his mouth and tongue. 

Your body heats up further when he begins touching the curves of your body with his big, wide hands. His gentle touch makes it seem as if he wants to memorise everything, even as he kneads at your breasts. 

Then his hands reach down, pulling your legs wide apart so he can settle in between. You are still sensitive after your first climax that the touch of his hard shaft makes you jolt beneath him. Yet you make no move to avoid him when he carefully aligns himself at your center. He moves the tip of his cock between your slit, back and forth, coating himself with your release, and then you feel him nudging at the entrance. 

“Can I—?” he asks with a strained voice, filled with need, yet still keeping himself back when he seems so unsure to proceed. 

“Yes,” you simply cry out before he can finish asking, already lifting your hips to welcome him home. 

At your final word, Taehyung pushes into you in one smooth stroke that stretches your walls to the point of pain. Yet the pain feels exquisite, so much so that you almost find yourself unravelling once more in the peak of pleasure. At the same time, it also feels as if you are gaining back a piece of your soul which you lost on the day you left him behind in that cave. 

You look up to him to say this, only to see him closing his eyes. The relief written on his face is so profound that it almost brings you to tears. Because you know that he is feeling the same way too about this moment; of having your bodies and souls joined into one. 

Taehyung opens his eyes and his forehead comes down to yours. For what seems to be the longest time, neither of you makes a move. You simply exist in this space together, your bodies joined, your breaths colliding with one another, and your hearts beating as one. As if you are bounded not by magic, but by fate. 

“________,” he whispers your name as he kisses your face, your nose, lips, and hair, down to your neck, and then returns to claim your lips again. “I’m so happy to be able to touch you again. To love you like this.” 

Your breath is caught in your throat, just as your words do. “Then make love to me,” you whisper breathlessly beyond the sound of your rapid heartbeat. Wrapping your legs around his hips, you encourage him to move. “Show me how happy you are to see me again.” 

You rock your hips, and then he follows. His tortured moan seems as if it is being ripped out straight from the depths of his soul. There is a hint of tears forming in his eyes as he begins to move, thrusting deeply inside you, withdrawing and slamming back into you, over and over again. He hooks his arms under your legs, pulling them up higher as he starts driving further into you. 

Despite getting lost in his pleasure, Taehyung keeps his eyes on you the entire time. Just like how he did it back in that cursed cave, the way he wanted to keep the moment he had with you in his memories, he does the same thing as he rocks his hips against you, taking you over to the peak of pleasure. 

Soon, his forceful strokes trigger the familiar strain of your orgasm. He seems to feel you holding back, both of you wishing that you could let this continue just a bit longer. But the pleasure is too much, and he is close to falling over the edge as well to stop it. 

Reaching down, he touches your clit, pressing hard between his rapid thrusts and groans, “Come for me, beautiful. Let me see you fall apart for me.” 

With a cry, you allow yourself to fall into a spiral of pleasure, engulfed in the delectable waves of your release. Your body squeezes around his cock, and the pleasure unwinds, ripples going through your body in waves of pure ecstasy.

Thrusting deeply, Taehyung throws his head back, his eyes closed and his jaw tense as he joins you in his own release. The magnificent sight of him losing himself in passion immediately drives you right back to the edge again. And you are too spent to prevent it from happening. The strain from the intense lovemaking, done right here in the open space where the ocean breeze continues hitting your skin—now dampened with slickness and sweat—is beginning to wash over you. It has been so long since you ever felt this kind of pleasure, not since that night in the cave, not since him. 

Taehyung remains inside you for a moment longer. Giving you slow, gentle strokes as he helps you come down from your high. And then he slowly pulls out, bringing the drops of his release and yours in his exit. 

With a small smile, he crawls back down, carefully cleaning your center with his mouth and tongue. Once again, the ripples of pleasure rise from within. It feels subtle, barely a spasm, and ends just as he finishes cleaning you up. 

“I’m officially addicted to your taste, beautiful,” he whispers against your lips when he returns to your side, taking you in his arms so you can rest for a while. 

“Hmm, I think I’m officially addicted to everything about you. Knowing you, it seems like I’m risking my entire being to be with you,” you sleepily admit as you melt into his embrace with contentment. You smile when you feel his chest vibrating with his deep chuckle. 

“Do you regret it? Meeting me?” 

“Not a chance,” you quickly say to him. Especially not when you have earned something good from meeting him. And it’s not about the carnal pleasure he gives you. 

As if she knows that you are thinking about her, the sound of your baby’s cry echoes through the night, calling for you. 

The hitch in his breath is palpable, and you wonder what is going through his head right now at the sound of your child’s cry. His child. “May I see her next time?” he gently murmurs, closing his eyes as if he is listening to the sound of a singing tune. 

“You may. She is yours, after all.” Biting your lips, you cup his cheek with your palm and turn his face towards you. His eyes are filled with the same longing you first saw when he came up from the water, and you immediately understand. 

“You were here when she was born, weren’t you?” you ask him, “I felt you.” 

You did. The night your baby was born, you felt intense fear washing over you. Yet for some reason, you could almost hear him, serenading a tune from the open sea until you found your courage, and the sense of calmness came over you until she was born into the world. 

With an amused smile on his face, Taehyung nods. “I came at her call. She was singing for me right before she came into the world.” 

Your eyes grow wide. “She…sang?” 

Again, he nods. “But I heard nothing,” you murmur with a wonder.

His gaze softens as he recalls that night. “She needed me. She wanted to let me know that she was arriving,” he says, telling you a tale of your child’s birth from his point of view. “It was your magic that saved me, freed me from the curse which bound me to the cave, but it was her magic that gave me the power to find you both across the sea.” 

Tears form in your eyes as you picture him finding the strength to swim across the ocean just to find you, all because of the baby’s magic pulling him all the way here. 

As if he knows what you are thinking, Taehyung brushes his thumb across your cheek, wiping a stray tear away. “But I had no way of approaching you. It would have been too dangerous for me to make haste and come too close to humans.”

Nodding, you understand. Surely, it would have been hard to explain to the people of the tribe about his sudden appearance when there was no sight of a boat coming after Namjoon had left. The people of Parram Island are highly superstitious. Just like the elders from your tribe, they believe in curses and the evil side of sea monsters, and would have condemned Taehyung for crossing over the shoreline and stepping foot into their land knowing what he was. 

“Do you still fear humans?” 

A wry smile comes to his face. “Only some. Not all.” He sighs. “Not after I met the most beautiful star hidden among them.” He gives you a warm smile and your heart stutters. “But I still fear for what they would become once they find out how our child was conceived, and whose blood she was born from.” 

Your breath hitches. “I never thought of that—” 

He tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear and then takes your hand to kiss the back of it. “One day, when it’s time for us to be together, she will sing for you to help you find your way to find me, or to let you know when it’s time for me to come back to you.” 

You find it hard to understand what he means, until it slowly dawns on you—

“You’re leaving.” 

He presses his lips, hating the crack in your voice. “I must. If we want to be together, and if we want to keep our child safe, then I must find the source of the curse.”  

Slowly, you push yourself up. “The curse?” 

He grimly nods. “The same curse that has been hurting the sea and your home island, plaguing the rest of my kind, and the one that is threatening our daughter’s future like it did when it imprisoned me in that cave,” he slowly explains, before he launches into explaining why he had always resented humans. He tells you how many years and decades ago, a mortal from a deserted island came into the sea to poison it with their magic, hurting sea creatures and turning them into cursed sea monsters like himself, and how the same magic that the mortal used had been the true cause of your people’s suffering all this time. 

“They’re all the same, cast by the same source, hidden somewhere in the wide sea,” he continues to explain, while you are having trouble letting all of this sink in. 

Why had none of the elders known about this? If they had known about the presence of sea monsters, then why had they never talked about the dark spell which had been the true cause of them?

You are still reeling in the revelations—the true secret behind your people’s hardships and Taehyung’s curse—that you don’t fight him as he pulls you up from the rock bed where you have been lying on and helps you put on your nightdress again. 

Once again, your baby’s cry echoes through the night. You can only wonder if her caretaker is having trouble calming her down or if she can somehow feel her father’s presence so close.   

“Her voice is so beautiful,” Taehyung murmurs lovingly, closing his eyes as he savours the last moments of his daughter’s cries.  

“She’s crying for her mother,” you bleakly reason with him, unable to find the right words—or any right at all—to stop him from going back into the sea. “I must go back.” 

Opening his eyes, Taehyung leans down to press his lips on yours, stealing a kiss that lingers for a moment too long for someone who is ready to depart into the night. “I will return for you. For our child. For Raena.” 

“How did you—” You pull back with a start. “How did you know her name?” 

He smiles. “She told me. I told you, she would sing to me at night. She told me everything,” he says, his gaze softening with so much love it overwhelms you. “She shared her feelings about being born into the world, so close to the sea but too far away from her father. She always sings about her beautiful mother, who feels lonely at night yet still shows her so much love.” 

He brushes your cheeks with his fingers and then presses his lips on your palm when you try to do the same. “She sang to me the day you gave her the name—Raena—so I would know what to call her when we finally meet. And I have always been singing to her since she came to the world, just like I have been singing for you since the day you left.” 

Tears continue to fall as you look back on those nights when you kept hearing those humming tunes. His voice. 

You remember the haunting tune you kept hearing during the nights spent in the sea to escape his cursed island. The serenading tune which broke your soul apart, to the point that there were moments that it had weakened you and nearly caused you to turn the boat’s sail back around just to return to his side again. It had gotten so bad at one point that Namjoon had to tie you against the side of the boat to stop you from trying to go back. Now, you imagine Taehyung singing in the cave all alone, serenading the tune of his heartbreak, calling your soul to return to him again. 

And then there were the nights when the tune began to change. No longer filled with despair, the serenading sound you heard reverberating through the rough waves had been filled with hope and love, helping you to heal and find comfort even as you were still drifting away in the wide, open sea. 

Had that been the moment when your baby was beginning to grow inside you? Was it during that time when Taehyung first felt his child’s presence in your belly? 

You question him all of this, which draws a small, sorrowful smile to his face. “My soul shattered when you ran away, and the moment I felt our child’s presence inside you”—his hand drifts down, touching your stomach from over your nightdress—”all of my broken pieces were put together again. I kept growing stronger the more she grew.” 

You cannot help it. Knowing that you have this invisible bind keeping you together even when you are apart breaks your heart and fills it with love at the same time. Rising on your toes, you wrap your arms around him and press your lips on his. 

He returns your kiss gently. You can feel him bearing his heart and soul, just as bare as his skin, drawing your sense of longing to have a future together. 

A future that seems bleak now as the dark forces hurting everything around you is still out there, somewhere. 

A sob threatens to escape as he slowly lets you go. You swallow it down to beg him, “Don’t go.” 

You keep your arms around him with the hope of keeping him from leaving. And yet, seeing the sight of his scales slowly appearing on his skin, you know that anything you say to make him stay would be futile. 

“I’m not going anywhere far. I’ll return when Raena sings for me, or when you call me back home in time of need,” he promises with a smile, just as his eyes turn golden glow. “I’ll return once the curse has been defeated, or whenever I feel you and Raena needing me here.”

But we need you here now, the small voice in your head speaks.  

“Tell me how to help,” you say to him, trying a different angle, only for him to shake his head.  

“Just stay where you are and be safe. Keep our child safe.” 

You open your mouth to say something—anything—to make him change his mind. Your heart is already breaking apart as you see him slowly stepping back. Back into the jagged rocks, back towards the water’s edge. 

Until Mira’s voice is heard from the top of the nearest valley of rocks, calling you. 

“________?” you hear her shout, and you quickly turn around to make sure that she isn’t near enough to see Taehyung. “Where are you? Raena needs you.” 

Her words, mixed with Raena’s cries, make you restless. It drowns the sound of the splashing water coming from behind you. 

Once you are sure that Mira is nowhere in sight, you turn back to Taehyung. 

“Taehyung, I—” 

You wish to share one final goodbye, yet he is no longer there. You are met with silence, with nothing else but the sounds of the crashing waves hitting the jagged rocks as your magnificent siren disappears into the dark sea.

The last thing you see is the sight of a tail, covered in viridescent scales illuminated by the moonlight, slinking into the rough sea as he sets off towards his new journey. A sorrowful tune of a song echoes through the night, as he serenades his goodbye and his promise to return. 

For you. 

For Raena.  

— ©Yoonia, all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any kind, translations, unsanctioned adaptations are not allowed.

[twola]

Prone bone with Arthur….especially high honor

Smothered

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

There is something you like about being smothered by him - being covered in the mass of muscle and sinew and bone that comprises your lover. That the arms that wind around you also tear men apart - that the thighs that press against yours hold on to a horse with the law in hot pursuit.

“Y’sure you're alrigh’?” he hoarsely whispers in your ear, tucking a strand of your mussed hair behind it. The long lines, the arcs, the shapes and angles of his body presses against yours.

You nod and murmur in the affirmative, your head laying against the pillow of this hotel bed - the dollar Arthur had paid to get out of camp for the night was certainly going to be put to good use.

He presses his lips against your cheek, the scratch of stubble makes you smile against him as he settles in, hands moving down your sides starting your ribcage, where the swell of your breasts are pressed against the mattress. Down, down the curve of your waist to the flare of your hips. His hand grasps your thigh, your skin indenting against the strength of his fingers. He presses your thigh outward, and you give a soft, quiet moan as you feel your folds parting as he spreads your legs. Another shift of his body, strong, large, hard, against yours and you feel the hot, blunt head of his cock press against the rim of your cunt, slipping in as he shifts his hips forward. Your voices cracks as he begins to push himself into your body, and he rumbles in response, the deep timbres of his voice echoing out from his chest, smothered against your back.

“Oh my girl-” Arthur groans out as he slides forward, his hips finally flushed against your rear, your cunt stuffed full of his hard flesh. You stretch your legs outward just a little more to accommodate him, and he grunts in approval. One of your hands grasps at the pillow like a lifeline, and its not a moment more before he covers it with his own, pulling it away from the pillow and interlacing your fingers.

“Oh honey, are you sure yer alrigh’?” he whispers into your ear, squeezing your hand affectionately.

“Yes-” you raise your head, craning your neck until you press your temple against his jaw, “Please, Arthur-”

He moves - and each thrust of his hips, each notch of his cock back into your cunt, its like the first time he fills you - that pain-pleasure of carving a space for himself in the very core of your body. His elbows land on either side of your shoulders as he curls himself over you completely. Oh, to be underneath him is to be surrounded completely, to be walled off from the world, for anyone or anything to get to you, it would have to go through all of him.

He leans on one elbow and snakes his other hand under your hip, forcing you to arch your lower back slightly, until his fingers find that nub of pleasure just south of where he spears into you. Immediately, you throw your face into the pillow, hoping to smother the embarrassingly loud moan that escapes you.

“Tha’s it-” he grinds his cock into you, as deep as he can go, and mercilessly circles that nub of flesh, even despite your gasping, begging, pleading.

It’s too much, the heady inches of him stilling within the vicegrip of your cunt. Its too much, his fingers pressing and squeezing and teasing your sensitive hood. Its too much, caught beneath all six foot of the gunslinger, caught between him an a mattress of the Rhodes Parlour House. Its too much, your lover giving you everything.

When you come, it's like he’s wrung you dry, your legs shaking, your voice crooning into the pillow, tears collecting under your eyelashes. He groans when you convulse around him, and there is no end of you, no beginning of him. Wetness seeps from the stretched rim of your cunt, leaking out upon the stem of him, dampening the curls at the base of his hard flesh. He cannot last but a moment more, gasping as he pumps his hips one last desperate time, filling you with the dripping warmth of his release. Your lover stutters himself into you, possessive, your body completely hidden by his, his panting breath hot in your ear.

At some point, he pulls himself from you, and you keep softly as you feel the combined moisture of your love drip from your body.

He squeezes your hip affectionately, and you smile into the pillow. The long line of his body lays next to you, and those calloused, worn fingers draw hearts into your skin.

[landosjpg]

the black dog | ln

the one where you watch your ex boyfriend walk into some bar called the black dog.

lando norris x gender-neutral!reader

word count: ~1.9k

warnings: angst!!!!, happy ending so fluff as well, brief discussion of bad mental health, lando is a bit of a prick at some point, exes to lovers, one sexual innuendo (?)

note: based on this request and obviously the black dog by taylor swift. this is one of my favorite taylor songs EVER i got so excited when i got this request. i also love a good angsty, heart-breaking fic so giving this a happy ending was a bit harder than it should’ve but i hope you enjoy it!

“stop that,” you softly cooed, your hands cupping his cheeks to try and make him look at you.

the past few weeks had been harsh on him, and you could feel how every self-deprecating comment just made him drown deeper into his own head. you just wanted the best for him.

he didn’t answer. instead, he looked away again, trying his best to avoid your gaze at all costs.

“it’s just been a bad weekend, baby. next one will be better,” you added.

“stop with the optimistic bullshit,” he rudely said before you could add anything else to try and cheer him up.

you knew he was angry —rightfully so —after missing on a potential win only a few days before, but you couldn’t just sit and watch him bring himself down anymore.

“it just hurts to see you like this,” you mumbled.

“it’s hurting you?” he snapped, his tone accusing. “why do you have to make everything about you, every single time?”

as his words escaped his lips, he gently pushed you off his lap, immediately getting up from the couch.

“i’m just saying…” you tried to explain, although his words hurt more than you would ever admit out loud.

“i don’t care what you’re saying,” he cut you off. “it’s always the same story with you. the world doesn’t fucking revolve around you, you know?”

your lips parted, intending to defend yourself, but no words left your mouth. not like lando would had let you speak, anyway.

“this is the last thing i need right now, i’m done here,” he grumbled.

you froze at the tone of his voice, not having heard him talking to you like that ever before. and you didn’t do anything to stop him when he picked up his jacket and walked to the entrance of your apartment, announcing his departure with a loud slam of the front door.

he just needed time, you told yourself.

but he didn’t call, and you didn’t wake up to a simple apology in your messages and him asking to see you as you were used to.

and it had been forty-two days since he had stormed out of your apartment and, unknowingly to you, vowed to never talk to you again.

and after six weeks of no contact, you still missed him.

lando had been more than just your boyfriend, he had been your best friend for as long as you could remember; he was there, in every little memory you had.

you had always been the first person he ran to whenever the smallest thing happened, and for the past few weeks you had to settle for watching his life go on without you through pictures and media outlets.

and as much as your friends tried to tell you that it would get better, every morning without him just got harder than the previous one; used to having his arms wrapped all around you and his curls tickling your neck, waking up in a cold bed was certainly something you weren’t quite fond of.

however, he seemed to be moving on.

that’s what you thought as you sat in the darkness of your room, the only light illuminating the space being the dim glow of your phone’s screen as you intently watched the small, blue dot moving on your screen.

he had forgotten to turn his location off.

like every weekend since the break up, you watched him walk into some random bar in a different city, piercing a new, deeper hole in your heart every time. and you couldn’t help but hope that they played your song each night, that even the smallest thing reminded him of you.

but instead, every morning you woke up to a new picture of him leaving the place with some girl wrapped around his arm, while you could barely wear your favorite clothes because they took you back to a memory you shared with him.

you didn’t understand how he didn’t miss you, how he could be doing so good without you by his side.

୨୧

it had never been his intention to walk out of your life that afternoon. but when the anger washed away, all he could feel was shame.

guilt, for how he had talked to you when all you wanted was to help. and he wasn’t sure he could ever look at you in the eyes without the feeling overfilling his senses. so, instead, he did what he knew best: he ran away.

and the only thing that could take you off his mind for some time was drowning his own pain in alcohol every weekend, end the night with some girl’s legs wrapped around him.

but that night, he froze as the first notes of your song started playing; the song that had started playing when you got in his car the first time he took you out on a proper date. and the upbeat music took him right back to that day.

he could still picture the sight of your teary eyes as you walked into his apartment after another failed date —the guy hadn’t even showed up; the sound of your sobs as you buried your face on his chest, looking for some comfort, still making his heart clench.

“you deserve better,” he had whispered into your hair, placing a soft kiss on top of your head. “someone who’s willing to give you everything.”

“i’m tired of searching,” you had simply mumbled, feeling hopeless after so many disappointments.

“maybe you don’t have to search for it,” he had said before he could even think about his words. “maybe it’s been right in front of your nose all this time.”

at the underlying confession of his words, you raised your head from his chest to look up at him.

“hm?” you hummed.

lando had always liked you; but he had also been scared of you not reciprocating his feelings, of your friendship being ruined by the love he had for you. however, he had been completely oblivious as to the way you had always looked at him.

but that time, he caught the glint in your eyes as his gaze met yours, and so he confidently asked:

“can i take you out on a date?”

he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as he saw you crack a smile, relief washing all over him.

“i would love to,” you mumbled.

he smiled at your reply, his thumbs coming up to wipe the remains of your tears.

“tonight, then?” he softly kissed your cheek before you nodded and wrapped your arms around his frame, unknowing of how the turn your relationship would take after that night.

he looked down at the girl who was grinding herself against him, trying to ignore the memories flooding his mind; but her eyes didn’t sparkle the way yours did as the song played. and he knew she just wouldn’t get the jokes he was so tempted to make, the ones that would send you into a fist of laughter despite of the many times you had heard them before.

in short, she simply wasn’t you. and he knew he wouldn’t ever feel that way with someone else.

“excuse me,” he said, trying to push her away from him.

he made his way out of the bar pushing in between the sea of people, his phone clutched in his hand the second he stepped a foot outside.

he sighed as he looked at his screen, the cool air making him come back to his senses; he couldn’t just text you. not after ghosting you for over a month.

but he missed you, so what else could he do? how else could he apologize for what he did?

୨୧

you turned around in bed as you felt the room being illuminated again by the screen of your phone, a message interrupting your attempt to sleep.

your heart skipped a beat as you saw his contact picture, followed by a simple “are you up?”. you couldn’t believe your eyes, anxiety coursing through your veins as you stared at the message.

“you still have read receipts on”

“say something, please”

fuck, of course. and you had been staring at his text for five minutes straight.

“what?” you simply typed with shaky fingers; it was dry, yes, but you were still hurt about how things ended between the two of you.

his answer came almost immediately: “just wanted to apologize” it read.

but nothing could’ve prepared you for his next message, asking if he could come over instead of doing so over text.

you hesitated for a few minutes; you knew you shouldn’t, but you needed closure as well.

so, naturally, you accepted.

you anxiously padded around your house as you waited for him, biting your nails as you imagined every possible scenario that could happen. five. ten. fifteen minutes, and then you heard a knock on the door.

the door opened slowly, revealing the figure of your ex-boyfriend.

you stepped aside and let him in, closing the door behind him and turning around with your gaze fixed on the floor. the silence was deafening,and the situation felt awkward.

“can i have some water?” lando tried to break the ice, his eyes fixed on you as you simply nodded and disappeared into the kitchen.

when you came back only a few minutes later with two glasses on your hands, he had made himself comfortable. you walked to the couch and sat next to him, with a considerable distance between the two of you.

“i just…” he broke the silence again, his voice low and slightly nervous. you didn’t dare look at him yet, so you looked down at your lap, where you fidgeted with your fingers.

you heard him sigh as he chose his next words carefully.

“i never meant to hurt you, or ruin what we had,” lando started. “it was a few bad weeks, and i know i shouldn’t have, but i took it all out on you. and then i didn’t think i could even look you in the face after what i said.”

you looked up at him, your eyes starting to water as you took in his words.

“you could’ve just explained yourself, i would’ve understood,” you replied with a thin, vulnerable voice.

“i was ashamed of myself after the fight and i thought running away from all of it would be the best,” he said as his gaze met yours. “truth is i haven’t stopped thinking about you for a single minute all this time. i really miss you,” he almost whispered.

“i…” you stuttered.

“i get it if you can’t forgive me,” his voice broke mid-sentence.

“‘s not that,” you mumbled, a few tears running down your cheeks. “just wish it didn’t take you this long.”

you noticed his pained expression as he noticed the tears on your face, quickly whispering a soft “c’mere” as he opened his arms. you sighed and scooped next to him, letting his arms wrap around your frame in a comforting hug.

“i’m really sorry,” you heard him whisper into your hair before he planted a gentle kiss on top of your head. “i won’t leave again.”

“promise?” you murmured, snuggling closer into his embrace.

“promise, baby,” he answered in the same low voice.

you nodded slightly, your eyes fluttering close as you took in his scent and the way his grip on you tightened, an oath to never let you go again.

[leejenowrld]

‘love me back?’ — seven

pairing — mark lee x reader

word count — 49.5k words 

genre — angst, smut, fluff, strangers to lovers, forbidden love

synopsis — this is the end. after an eventful party that shifts everything you thought you knew, you realize it’s time to bring things back to how they were. with the state championships looming, the stakes are higher than ever. this will either be the end of all you know, the beginning of the end, or the start of something entirely new.

chapter contents/warnings — college au, small town vibes, 2000s teen show vibes, this fic is heavily based on one tree, explicit language, explicit sexual content, explicit themes, really emotional chapter (get tissues), rough sex, choking, hair pulling, and spanking, overstimulation and edging, use of substances (vaping, drugs) in a sexual context, oral sex (receiving), light humiliation and possessive themes, marking (hickeys, biting). use of spit, intense physical restraint and forceful movements, y/n remains confusing, mark is on his horny boy shit, karina best character as always, state championships drama, cute caffe scene, irene + y/n bonding. grab your tissues as this is the end :( sorry loves i have to keep these warnings short as i don’t wanna spoil anything

ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR | FIVE | SIX | SEVEN

[fic ml]

Your stomach twisted as your gaze swept over the scene: four girls sitting around him, their attention locked entirely on him. Lia leaned forward slightly, her long legs crossed as she rested her chin in her hand, her laughter soft and melodic. Yiren sat closest to him, her eyes wide and sparkling as she twirled a strand of her hair between her fingers. Giselle’s voice carried over the others, teasing and playful, while Chaewon batted her eyelashes, her soft giggle almost grating to your ears.

They were all staring at him with an intensity that bordered on comical, their eyes wide and lips parted as if he were the only person in the room. You couldn’t blame them, really—Mark had that kind of presence. The way his dark eyes sparkled when he talked, his quiet confidence, the relaxed curve of his lips—it all made him magnetic. And as you watched from the doorway, you couldn’t help but laugh under your breath.

It wasn’t jealousy, not even close. If anything, it was funny. Mark liked attention—you knew that much—and he wasn’t shy about soaking it in. But it was obvious he was keeping a polite distance, his posture relaxed but not leaning into their space. He was charming without even trying, his responses short yet kind, the corners of his mouth quirking up when one of them said something particularly over-the-top.

And the girls? Well, they were practically falling over themselves. Their bodies leaned toward him like he was the sun, their movements subtle but deliberate—playing with their hair, adjusting their tops, batting their eyelashes in synchrony. 

But the truth was, he didn’t see them. At least, not in the way they wanted. You knew how Mark looked at someone when he truly saw them, and this wasn’t it. He was polite, sure, and maybe even faintly amused by their obvious flirting, but he wasn’t engaged. Not like he was when he looked at you.

You stepped further into the room, your footsteps quiet against the floor. You heard fragments of their conversation as you approached.

“…your heart condition sounds so scary,” Yiren murmured, her brows furrowing as she tilted her head sympathetically. “How do you manage it?”

Mark gave a small, almost sheepish smile, bouncing the basketball lightly on the ground beside him. “It’s just about knowing my limits,” he said, his voice low and smooth, drawing the girls in closer. “It’s not as bad as it sounds.”

Lia leaned forward, her hand lightly brushing against his knee. “But still… it must’ve been hard to tell the team.” Her voice was soft, filled with admiration.

“It was,” Mark admitted, his gaze flicking between them. “But they’ve been supportive. It’s good to have people who have your back.”

Giselle’s eyes sparkled as she chimed in, “You’re so brave, Mark. Seriously. And you’re still playing basketball? That’s incredible.”

Mark shrugged, the corner of his lips tugging upward in that effortlessly charming way that seemed to make the girls around him lean in closer. “Yeah, I’ll still play for the rest of the season,” he said, his tone casual but measured. “Not as much, though. Under strict control—fewer minutes, lighter practices. Gotta take it easy for now.”

Yiren tilted her head, her eyes wide with admiration. “That’s really disciplined of you. Most guys would try to push through it and end up making it worse.”

Mark gave a small nod, his expression softening. “I used to be that guy. Thought I could just power through anything, but this… it’s different. I’ve gotta be smart about it.” His hand idly spun the basketball balanced on his knee, the movement fluid and relaxed, like it was second nature.

Chaewon and Yiren leaned in toward him, their admiration practically dripping off them, and though you told yourself you shouldn’t care, the sight sent an unexpected surge of possessiveness through you. Chaewon’s lips parted slightly, her voice tinged with awe. “It’s still incredible, though. That you’re even out there at all. Shows how much you love the game.”

Mark didn’t respond immediately, letting Chaewon’s words hang in the air as though carefully considering them. The pause only seemed to heighten the anticipation, making Yiren’s voice cut through the moment with precision. “Do you ever need someone who’s there for you through all of this? You know, to give you support and—”

“I don’t need that,” Mark interrupted, his voice steady and certain, cutting through the soft hum of conversation around them. His words were resolute, leaving no room for doubt. “Because I already have that. I have Y/N.”

You had to press your hand against your lips, the laugh bubbling up so suddenly it nearly escaped. The way their faces fell was priceless—wide-eyed disbelief and barely concealed disappointment that turned the air heavy with awkward tension. Giselle’s lips parted like she wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words, while Chaewon exchanged a glance with Yiren, her brows furrowing in confusion. Even Lia, ever composed, looked momentarily caught off guard, her smirk faltering.

Yiren blinked, her brows knitting together as she exchanged a glance with Chaewon, their confusion palpable. Giselle was the one to voice what they were all thinking, her tone a careful mix of curiosity and disbelief. “But… didn’t you break up?” she asked, leaning forward slightly, her eyes narrowing as though trying to make sense of Mark’s words.

Mark didn’t even hesitate. “Yeah, we did,” he said, his tone calm but firm, as if the answer was obvious. “But that doesn’t change anything. She’s still the one who’s there for me. She always has been, and I know she always will be. Just because we’re not together doesn’t mean she’s not mine, and I’m not hers.”

The words lingered in the air, heavy and unshakable. The girls exchanged glances, their disappointment obvious, but you barely noticed. Your laughter faded as your eyes found Mark—hidden from his view, yet completely absorbed by the way he spoke. Even when you weren’t there, he carried you in his words, and it hit harder than you wanted to admit.

His voice wasn’t rehearsed or performative. It was steady and real, filled with a conviction that left no room for doubt. He didn’t know you were listening, which only made it more genuine. This wasn’t a display for the others—it was Mark speaking about you as if nothing between you had ever changed. And you couldn’t ignore the pull of it, how deeply his words resonated.

Your chest tightened as you watched him. His hand rested on the basketball, his movements calm and deliberate, his focus entirely on what he was saying. He looked confident and composed, but there was a softness in the way he spoke your name, a quiet emotion that betrayed his exterior. The way he said you’re mine wasn’t possessive; it was certain, like he believed it with every part of himself.

The attraction you felt for him in that moment was overwhelming. The broad line of his shoulders, the way his hand gripped the basketball, the subtle curve of his lips—it all made your breath hitch. But it wasn’t just about how he looked. It was the way he spoke, the certainty he carried, and the way he made you feel like you still mattered. It reminded you of why you loved him, why you never fully let go.

A warmth spread through you, not just desire but something deeper. His tone, his presence, the way he still held you in his words—it made you question everything. You’d convinced yourself there was distance between you, but this moment proved there wasn’t. It made you want to step closer, to let yourself belong to him again, even though you knew it was dangerous. You couldn’t resist him, not then, not now. You still wanted him, completely and entirely.

But he was such a whore. You knew him too well for the smooth exterior he presented to everyone else. He loved attention, basked in it like it fueled him. Even though he kept a respectable distance from the girls, you could see how much he enjoyed being the center of their world in that moment. The way their eyes lit up at his words, the way they leaned in closer—it didn’t go unnoticed by him. You could read it all too clearly in the slight lift of his lips, the subtle satisfaction in his gaze.

And yet, why was he still sitting there? Why was he indulging them instead of looking for you? That familiar twist of frustration coiled in your chest as you watched him. He hadn’t once glanced around the room to find you, hadn’t even seemed to notice your absence. His soft smile, the one that seemed so easy and natural, made your stomach churn. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust him, but seeing him like this—with them—made you question why you still wanted him so much.

You crossed your arms, your expression hardening into one of quiet distaste, but you forced yourself to stay still, masking the annoyance threatening to bubble over. That’s when Karina stumbled into the room, her glossy hair tousled, her lips swollen and red. Her eyes found yours immediately, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips as she made her way over, moving with a careless sway that could only come from being high—and freshly fucked.

“I just got absolutely destroyed by Jeno,” she murmured, leaning in with a smirk, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “He couldn’t keep his hands off me—pinned me against the wall like he was starving, growling about how tight I was while he fucked me so deep I couldn’t think straight. He just kept going, his cock hitting every spot like he knew my body better than I did. My legs are still shaking, and trust me, no one ruins a girl like Jeno can.”

Your gaze flickered briefly to her, taking in the sharp line of her jaw and the way her lipstick, though slightly smudged, still clung to her lips in a way that made her look effortlessly put together. Even after what she described—a night so raw and consuming it left her legs trembling—she looked pristine, her cheeks flushed with satisfaction, her eyeliner still perfect, and her hair cascading down her shoulders like she’d just stepped out of a photoshoot. The contrast between the composure in her appearance and the chaos she’d just described had you staring a moment too long, admiring the confidence and beauty she wore so easily.

She caught the direction of your eyes, her smirk sharpening when they landed on Mark. He was still seated on the couch, one arm draped lazily across the backrest while the other rested on his thigh, his fingers idly spinning the basketball balanced on his knee. The subtle curve of his lips hinted at amusement, though he didn’t seem to notice the crowd around him. His dark eyes, framed by the messy strands of his hair falling across his forehead, flickered with an easy confidence that made him impossible to ignore.

Karina’s chuckle broke the moment, low and dark, her voice playful but biting as she leaned closer to you. “Never thought I’d see Mark Lee being such a whore for attention,” she mused, her tone laced with teasing malice. Her gaze lingered on him, her smirk deepening as though she found the sight amusing—or perhaps a little too tempting.

He knew exactly what he was doing—the way he allowed his gaze to linger a beat too long, how his voice dropped just enough to make people lean closer, desperate to catch every word. It wasn’t just attention he was after—it was control, power, the thrill of knowing he could command a room without even trying. 

Your lips curled into a sharper, more dangerous smirk as you turned back to her, your tone smooth but layered with an edge you didn’t bother to hide. “He should only be a whore for my attention,” you replied, each word deliberate, cutting, and enough to make Karina arch a brow, her expression twisting into one of amused challenge.

She turned to you fully, her eyes gleaming with that familiar, reckless glint that always preceded trouble. She tilted her head, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I have an idea.”

You raised a brow, her mischievous tone already giving away her intent, but you decided to play coy, tilting your head slightly. “Do I even wanna know?”

Karina leaned closer, her lips quirking into a knowing smile, the glint in her eyes confirming exactly what you’d suspected. “Wanna make him jealous?” she teased, her voice dripping with suggestion, as though she already knew your answer.

You knew what she was implying—knew the game she was proposing without her having to say another word. It wasn’t just about jealousy; it was about power, about shifting the dynamic and throwing Mark off his pedestal, even for a moment. You felt the corner of your mouth twitch upward despite yourself, the beginnings of a smirk betraying your crumbling resolve. “That would be immature,” you murmured, the words weak and unconvincing as your gaze drifted back to Mark. He sat effortlessly in command, the easy confidence in his posture making him look untouchable, and something about that made you waver.

“Yeah,” Karina agreed lightly, her tone almost sing-song, but her playful smirk hinted at far more. “But you’d get to make out with me.” Her words pulled a soft scoff from you, and you rolled your eyes, though the small grin tugging at your lips betrayed you. “We’ve literally kissed before. Remember all those threesomes with Jeno—”

Before she could finish, you cut her off, closing the distance in a swift, impulsive move. Your lips crashed into hers with an uncoordinated urgency that had the two of you stumbling slightly, your balance offset by your own recklessness. The kiss was messy and chaotic, a tangle of movement that made both of you giggle against each other’s mouths. Her soft laugh vibrated against your lips, and you felt her hands slide up to your neck, her fingers tangling into your hair with an easy familiarity.

It wasn’t sensual or romantic—it was playful, almost ridiculous, a show of exaggerated closeness meant for the eyes you knew were watching. Your lips moved together briefly, clumsily, as if neither of you were taking it too seriously. Still, you let the kiss deepen for a moment, her grip on your hair tightening as your head tilted slightly to the side, drawing her closer. It was just enough to make your point, just enough to draw every pair of eyes in the room without crossing a line you couldn’t laugh off later.

You pulled back first, breathless and slightly flushed, your lips swollen from the contact. The ghost of a smirk lingered on your face as you glanced at her, her expression matching your own—amused, teasing, and entirely unapologetic. Karina wiped the corner of her mouth with her thumb, a devilish grin spreading as she leaned back slightly, her gaze flicking toward Mark with a sharp glint that told you she knew exactly what kind of chaos you’d just unleashed. She moved as if to lean in again, but you shook your head, your grin widening as her laughter bubbled up, mixing with your own. The tension broke into something lighter, and for a moment, the two of you giggled like co-conspirators, perfectly aware of the storm you were brewing.

She didn’t say a word at first, just let her gaze linger on him before turning back to you, her grin widening. “Well,” she said, her tone light but teasing, “that definitely worked.” She smirked, leaning in closer. “Did you see him? He looked furious, like he wanted to come over here and break it up—but at the same time, I could tell he was so turned on. He couldn’t stop watching.”

But before you could look too and gauge his reaction, Jeno appeared, his towering frame filling the doorway with an air of casual dominance. His dark eyes locked onto the two of you, heat simmering in his gaze that made your stomach twist and your breath catch. Slowly, he stalked closer, his lips parting slightly as his hand drifted down to his waistband, blatantly adjusting himself with no care for subtlety.

“Don’t stop on my account,” he murmured, his voice a low rasp that sent a shiver down your spine. The way his gaze lingered made your skin prickle, but it was the weight of his hand landing on your head that made your knees almost buckle. For a moment, you thought he might lean in, that he might join you, but instead, he nudged you gently to the side, his focus shifting with deliberate intent to Karina.

Your breath hitched as you watched him close the distance between them, his large hands gripping her waist with a possessiveness that left no room for question. His lips crushed against hers with a raw, unrestrained intensity, a kiss so consuming it sent a jolt of electricity through the room. Karina melted into him instantly, her moan breaking through the tense silence as her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. The way their bodies moved against each other was magnetic, primal, as if nothing and no one else in the room existed.

You stepped back awkwardly, heat flushing to your cheeks as you tried to steady your breathing. Watching them devour each other with such hunger—such chemistry—made your earlier kiss with Karina feel insignificant, like a mere warm-up to the show they were putting on now.

The room shifted, the background chatter dwindling as heads turned toward the spectacle unfolding. A crowd was forming, their eyes drawn to the scene with a mix of awe and intrigue. The tension was palpable, hanging thick in the air like a storm about to break.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught movement, your gaze snapping to Mark. His expression was unreadable, but the intensity in his dark eyes was unmistakable as they bore into you. The weight of his gaze made your stomach twist, a blend of unease and anticipation gripping your chest.

The room shifted, the background chatter dwindling into an almost eerie silence as more heads turned toward the spectacle unfolding. Jeno and Karina were utterly engrossed in each other, their movements fluid and magnetic, drawing every eye like moths to a flame. A crowd was forming, the mix of awe and intrigue thick in the air, and the tension hung like a storm waiting to erupt.

You can’t help it—a quiet, desperate moan slips past your lips as you watch them. The raw heat between them is overwhelming, stirring something deep and primal inside you. They’re so hot together, so shamelessly in sync, and the thought hits you hard: What if you joined? Your heart races at the idea, your chest tightening as memories of past times flood in—moments when you had joined, when it was electric, seamless, and so, so good. You bite your lip, trying to steady your breath, but the temptation clings to you, relentless. You’re horny, high, and surrounded by two of your best friends—friends who know every inch of you, who know exactly how to make it all feel right. The idea isn’t just a fleeting thought; it’s a deep, undeniable pull, and you’re not sure how much longer you can resist.

But before you could linger on the idea, you felt it—the weight of Mark’s gaze, heavy and unrelenting, burning through the haze clouding your thoughts. It was as if he could see every sinful flicker in your mind, exposing the secret you hadn’t dared to voice. You dared a glance toward him, and your stomach twisted at the dark intensity in his eyes, locked firmly on you.

Mark’s reaction was subtle, yet it spoke volumes. He didn’t move right away, leaning back against the couch with calculated ease, one arm draped lazily over the backrest while his other hand gripped the basketball. His gaze didn’t waver, sharp and cutting, holding you in place like a predator assessing its prey. A flicker of something dangerous crossed his face—irritation, amusement, something possessive—but it vanished before you could fully decipher it, replaced by a chilling calm that only heightened the tension.

His tongue swiped over his bottom lip, slow and deliberate, drawing your eyes there despite yourself. It wasn’t casual; it was a challenge, a subtle display of control that made your breath hitch. His eyes flicked briefly to Karina and Jeno before returning to you, narrowing slightly, the fire in his gaze stoking the heat already pooling in your stomach. The smirk that curled the corner of his lips wasn’t soft—it was sharp, a warning, an unspoken claim that left no room for misunderstanding.

When Mark finally moved, it was deliberate, his calm exterior crackling with a restrained energy that made the air between you thick and oppressive. He stood smoothly, his broad shoulders rolling back as his presence swelled, consuming the space around him. The basketball hit the floor with a dull thud, forgotten in an instant as his focus honed in entirely on you. Each step he took was slow, measured, but there was nothing relaxed about him. It was a storm gathering strength, and you could feel the power in every deliberate movement as he closed the distance, his dark eyes never leaving yours.

“You’ve got some nerve,” he said, voice low, smooth, and cutting in a way that sent a jolt straight through you. His eyes dragged over your face with a sharpness that made you feel exposed. “Standing here like that, staring at them like like you wanna join in.” His lips twitched into a smirk, but it was sharp, humorless, and the glint in his dark eyes was anything but forgiving.

You wanted to respond, to snap back or deny the accusation, but the words stuck in your throat. His gaze was a heavy weight, pinning you in place as he came closer, his tall frame practically looming over you. The flicker of anger—or was it something deeper, more possessive?—in his expression made your heart race.

Before you could think to step back or speak, his hand shot out, fingers wrapping firmly around your wrist. The heat of his grip sent a shiver up your arm as he tugged you forward with no hesitation, the roughness of the motion stealing your breath. His hand tightened just enough to make you aware of his strength—not enough to hurt, but enough to ensure you didn’t try to pull away.

“Don’t fight me,” he growled, his voice low and commanding, leaving no room for defiance. “You’re coming with me. Now.” The force in his words made it clear this wasn’t a suggestion, and his grip tightened further, a warning that you weren’t in control anymore. His tone was edged with something dangerous, a promise that there would be consequences if you resisted.

The room blurred around you, your pulse hammering as Mark led you toward the exit with an almost unnerving calmness in his stride. People moved out of his way without him so much as glancing at them, the tension radiating off him like a force field. His grip on your wrist didn’t falter, steady and unrelenting as he pushed through the crowd.

“Mark—” you started, but the sound of your voice barely broke the air before he turned his head, cutting you off with a sharp, warning glance. His eyes burned into yours, dark and unreadable, silencing you instantly.

Your chest felt tight, caught between the sheer weight of his anger and the unmistakable heat that burned in his gaze. Every nerve in your body was on edge as he pulled you through the threshold and into the quieter hall beyond. For a moment, all you could focus on was the intensity of his touch, the controlled fury in his movements, and the way your thoughts spiraled wildly, caught somewhere between fear and something much more dangerous.

The door clicked shut behind you, the muffled sounds of the party fading to a low hum. Mark had pulled you into one of the small side rooms off the main hallway, a quiet pocket of space tucked away from the chaos but still dangerously close to it. The room was dimly lit, a couch pushed against the wall and a small table cluttered with forgotten drinks and a jacket someone had left behind. It felt secluded, intimate—but the knowledge that anyone could walk in at any moment only added to the tension.

Your heart was still racing, your wrist warm where his hand had gripped you, but as you turned to face him, everything shifted.

The storm you’d seen in his eyes moments ago was gone, replaced by something softer, deeper—yet no less intense. The anger had melted away, leaving only that possessive edge you knew too well. His dark eyes softened, becoming the ones you loved, the ones that had a way of looking right through you, disarming you completely.

Before you could process the change, Mark was on you. His hands found your waist as he backed you against the door, his grip firm but tender as he held you close. The heat of his body pressed into yours, his presence overwhelming in the quiet intimacy of the small space.

He didn’t say a word at first, just pulled you into him, his arms wrapping around you tightly. It wasn’t the fierce grip you expected—it was grounding, safe, his way of anchoring you to him as his fingers splayed against your lower back. His breath fanned over your cheek as he leaned in, his lips hovering achingly close to yours, so close you could almost feel the kiss he refused to give.

Your chest heaved, a quiet, involuntary moan slipping past your lips as you tilted your head slightly, chasing the contact he was teasingly withholding. But Mark didn’t move, didn’t close the gap. The tension crackled between you, your whimper breaking the silence as his thumb brushed a soothing circle against your side.

His lips hovered over yours again, deliberate in their restraint, the closeness making you ache. You felt his breath against your skin, the soft tickle of it drawing another quiet sound from you as you clung to his shoulders.

But still, he didn’t kiss you.

“God I missed you,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with a quiet relief that made your knees weak. The faint annoyance that had lingered in his tone earlier—no doubt from your missed calls, ignored messages, and the scene you’d made with Karina—was gone, replaced by something warmer, something unspoken but clear. You had expected anger, sharp words, or even a cutting glare, but there was none of it. “Finally.” 

You raised a brow, crossing your arms as you stopped just a few feet away. “Finally?” you echoed, a teasing lilt in your tone. “Looked to me like you were doing just fine without me. I mean, all those girls, Mark…” You tut jokingly, your memory flickering to the four women who surrounded him. “Maybe I should’ve just left you to it.” You roll your eyes. 

A faint smirk tugged at Mark’s lips, his head tilting slightly as he looked you over. “You think I would’ve let you do that?” His voice dipped lower, enough to make your pulse quicken. “Pretty sure none of them can distract me the way you can.”

Your cheeks warmed, but you rolled your eyes, stepping closer despite yourself. “Oh, I don’t know. They seemed pretty captivated.” You gestured vaguely toward the girls, who exchanged awkward glances but didn’t leave. “Are you sure you’re not just saying that because you got caught?”

Mark’s smirk widened as he closed the distance between you, his hand reaching out to lightly graze your wrist. The touch was brief, but it was enough to send a jolt of electricity through you. “Caught doing what? Talking?” He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping into something almost conspiratorial. “You jealous?”

You scoffed, but your lips curved into a sly smile, unable to help yourself. “Oh, please. A few compliments about your basketball skills? You must be eating this up.”

The words hung in the air, thick with meaning, but before you could respond, his expression shifted. The playful gleam in his eyes dimmed, replaced by something darker, something simmering just beneath the surface. His thumb brushed against your lip—slow, deliberate, almost mocking—as his gaze dropped to the faint smudge of Karina’s lipstick at the corner of your mouth. The motion sent a ripple of awareness through you, a silent reminder that he’d seen everything, that he wasn’t about to let it slide.

“What was that back there?” he asked softly, his voice calm, yet laced with an unmistakable edge. The question hung between you, heavy with quiet authority, as his dark eyes locked onto yours. They pinned you in place, cutting through your defenses with a quiet intensity that made your chest tighten.

“Just having fun. Just like you were,” you said, rolling your eyes, your tone deliberately casual. Your heart stuttered, and you hated how easily he could do this—strip you bare with just a look. Still, you raised a brow, feigning indifference, though the teasing note in your voice wavered slightly. “You’re such a show-off,” you quipped, the words softer than you intended. “But I’m not falling for it.”

Mark’s smirk deepened, his thumb grazing over the back of your hand in a way that felt far too intimate for where you were. His touch was slow, deliberate, the heat of his skin sending a ripple of tension up your arm. He stepped even closer, the space between you vanishing as his voice dipped into something darker, more confident.

“Baby,” he drawled, his lips curving in that way that made your pulse quicken. “You don’t have to fall for it. It’s already yours.”

His fingers tightened slightly around yours, grounding and possessive, the unspoken claim sparking a heat in your chest you couldn’t ignore. The way he looked at you, like he was undressing you with his eyes, made your breath hitch. This was shameless, utterly shameless—especially since you weren’t together anymore. But god, you couldn’t resist. Neither of you could. It was like a gravitational pull you had no desire to fight.

You couldn’t quite pinpoint when it started, but you knew why you were falling back into this with Mark. Maybe it was the way you were both high, the haze clouding everything and heightening your senses, making every touch, every glance, feel electric. Or maybe it was the undeniable jealousy bubbling under the surface—the way you watched him with the other girls, the way he looked at Karina and Jeno, his sharp eyes full of frustration and possessiveness. It mirrored the tension building inside you, all those old emotions and unspoken feelings resurfacing, just waiting for an outlet. 

You knew this wasn’t healthy, that these were all signs of pent-up frustration and unaddressed jealousy, but it didn’t matter. The need, the desire, the pull between the two of you was so strong it almost felt inevitable. You weren’t together anymore, but it was impossible to ignore the way he made you feel, how everything about him made you want to give in. The way he touched you, the heat in his gaze, the possessiveness—it was like a magnetic force drawing you closer, making you crave him in ways you didn’t want to admit. Neither of you had the strength to fight it.

You tilted your chin up, defiance flickering in your eyes even as the heat coursing through your body betrayed you. “You sound so sure of yourself,” you murmured, your voice low, daring him to prove you wrong. “What makes you think I haven’t moved on? Maybe what you saw me do with Karina is a fraction of what I’ve been wanting to do with other guys.”  

Mark’s smirk deepened, slow and deliberate, as he raised his hand to your face, his fingers brushing against your jaw before settling firmly beneath your chin. His grip was confident, dominant, tilting your head up just enough to ensure your eyes met his. The heat in his gaze pinned you in place, stealing the breath from your lungs. “Oh yeah?” he said, his voice a low rasp that felt like it could unspool you entirely. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you’ve moved on. Go on.”

Your breath caught, the words sitting heavy between you. His hand shifted, sliding to your waist as he pulled you a fraction closer, his touch warm and grounding against the thin fabric of your dress. The weight of his stare was overwhelming, the intensity in his eyes pulling you under like a riptide.

“You can’t,” he murmured, his voice a low, dangerous rasp that made heat coil in your stomach. “Because I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at me since we broke up. Like you’re imagining exactly what I’d do to you if no one else was around. Like you’re waiting for me to stop teasing and just ruin you already.”

You tilted your head slightly, letting a teasing smile tug at your lips, your body leaning closer to his without meaning to. “Oh?” you challenged, your tone laced with mischief. “What makes you so sure? Maybe I already have. Maybe I’ve even thought about someone else’s hands on me.”

It was a lie, an obvious one. You’d never think about anyone else—never consider it, not for a second—but you wanted to push him, to test him, to see just how far you could pull his strings. His eyes narrowed slightly, catching on immediately, and instead of snapping back, he let out a low, rough laugh.

Mark leaned in, his smirk deepening as his breath grazed your cheek, warm and tantalizing. “Yeah?” he drawled, his voice dipping lower, heavy with challenge. “With who, baby? Tell me who you’ve moved on to. Tell me you don’t think about me late at night. That you don’t wish it was my hands on your skin, gripping you so tight you can’t think straight. That it’s not my name you’re moaning when you can’t help yourself.”

Your lips parted, but the sharp retort you wanted to throw back at him refused to come. You were stunned, his words striking deeper than you anticipated, leaving you momentarily speechless. His thumb brushed against your jawline, the movement slow, deliberate, and searing. Your skin tingled under his touch, your pulse racing in your ears.

“That’s what I thought,” Mark murmured, his tone low and full of satisfaction. His smirk grew as he held your gaze, unrelenting and full of heat. “You’re mine, baby. Always have been and always will be.”

You swallowed hard, your body betraying you as a shiver ran down your spine. But despite the way his words sank into you, you forced a smirk onto your lips, masking the storm in your chest with a teasing edge. “Does it matter?” you quipped, tilting your chin up in defiance. “What if there is someone else?”

His eyes darkened, his grip on your chin tightening just enough to make your breath hitch. “If there was,” he said, his voice steady but laced with heat, “you wouldn’t be here. And you wouldn’t be looking at me like this.” His thumb grazed the corner of your mouth, his gaze flicking to your lips before meeting your eyes again. “Like you want me to drag you out of here and remind you exactly who you belong to.”

Mark’s laugh was softer this time, the sound dripping with amusement, but there was a tension in the way he leaned even closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “It matters,” he murmured, his tone rough and low, laced with something that made your pulse quicken. “Because I don’t share, baby. And I don’t think you’d want to, either.”

Your breath hitched, the weight of his words wrapping around you like a vise. He was calling your bluff, and the way his hand moved to the small of your back, pulling you closer, made it clear he wasn’t letting you go without making you admit it.

You tilted your head slightly, a smirk playing on your lips as you leaned in closer, your breath grazing his neck. “Who says I’d even want to share?” you murmured, your voice soft but laced with heat. Your fingers traced a slow line along the front of his shirt, skimming over the firm muscles beneath. You paused, your gaze locking with his, daring and teasing. “But tell me,” you added, your tone dropping, “would it really bother you if someone else made me scream their name?”

His body tensed immediately, the air between you thickening with raw, electric tension. His hand slid lower, gripping your waist with enough force to make you gasp, his lips now brushing against the corner of your mouth. “Watch it,” he growled, his voice rough, dangerous. “You don’t want to test me, baby.”

Your breath hitched, the sharpness in his tone igniting something deep inside you. His grip on your waist was firm, possessive, and instead of pulling away, you leaned in closer, your lips just barely brushing his. “Maybe I want to test you,” you whispered, your voice soft but laced with challenge, every word dripping with intention. “Maybe I want to see exactly what happens when you stop holding back.”

His free hand moved, his fingers brushing the fabric of your dress as though testing the barrier between you. “You know what’s funny?” he murmured, leaning in slightly, the faint scent of his cologne wrapping around you. “You show up here looking like that, wearing this…” His gaze raked over you, his lips curving into something that felt more like possession than admiration. “…and you think I wouldn’t notice? That I wouldn’t want to ruin you in it?”

You reached into your pocket, pulling out a small baggie and holding it up between your fingers. Mark’s gaze dropped to it, his brow raising slightly in curiosity. You grinned, pulling out a fresh blueberry vape next—two things that Jeno had slipped into your hand earlier without you asking, free of charge and with a lingering kiss on your forehead. You gave it a little shake for emphasis, your grin widening as you wiggled your eyebrows at him. “Wanna have fun?” you teased, your voice sultry, daring.

Mark’s smirk deepened, a dangerous edge sharpening his already magnetic expression as his gaze flicked between the baggie and your lips. Slowly, deliberately, his tongue swept over his lower lip, leaving it glistening as he stepped closer. The heat of his body was palpable, pressing into yours and making your breath hitch.

“You’re serious?” he drawled, his voice low and molten, dripping with intent. “You want to smoke, make out, and do drugs with me?” His head tilted slightly, his eyes dragging over you like a physical touch, lingering on the hem of your dress before sliding back up to meet your gaze. He leaned in closer, his lips just a breath from your ear, his voice a dark, intimate whisper. “You know exactly what that’ll lead to, don’t you?”

Your lips curled into a wicked smile, and you leaned up slightly, your voice soft but loaded with heat. “Good. Because I want to have sex with you too.”

Mark’s jaw tightened, the muscle flexing as his hand gripped your waist with bruising intensity. His other hand grasped the baggie from your grip, his movements fluid and deliberate, his confidence crackling in the air around you. His gaze stayed locked on yours, sharp and heated, his thumb brushing your hip as though grounding you in place.

He tore the bag open with practiced ease, slipping out a small pill—a pale blue ecstasy tablet, faintly chalky and imprinted with a star. A warmth of recklessness hung in the air between you, but something inside you twisted as you watched him hold it between his fingers. “Are you sure this is okay with your heart condition?” you asked, your voice soft but edged with worry.

Mark paused for a fraction of a second, the tablet poised near his lips, before he turned his gaze back to you, his smirk softening into something almost teasing. “Don’t worry,” he said, his voice low, smooth, reassuring. “I know what I’m doing. I’m not overdoing anything. Besides, I’m barely playing basketball anymore, and I haven’t even started my meds yet. That’s next week. Trust me, this is fine.”

Despite his calm demeanor, your chest tightened with unease. “Mark…” you started, but he cut you off, tilting his head slightly as his smirk deepened.

“I’ve got this,” he murmured, his tone full of quiet confidence. He held your gaze as he lifted the pill to his tongue, his movements slow and deliberate. Instead of swallowing, he leaned in closer, his fingers tightening at your waist as his lips hovered just over yours. You couldn’t help but notice how smooth he was—too smooth—and you wondered fleetingly how many times he’d done this before.

“You trust me, don’t you?” he murmured, his breath brushing over your lips, the pill still sitting on his tongue. His voice was rough, teasing, dripping with intent. 

“Of course I do,” you whispered, your voice trembling just enough to betray the heat rushing through you. The words barely left your lips before Mark’s smirk deepened, his breath fanning over your skin as the pill still rested on his tongue, daring, teasing.

Before you could think further, his hand shot up, fisting your hair with deliberate roughness and tilting your head back. The action sent a shiver down your spine, a soft gasp slipping past your lips. And then he was on you, his mouth crashing into yours with a force that left no room for hesitation.

The kiss was rough, all teeth and tongue, the bitter tang of the pill passing from him to you as his lips moved against yours like he was starving for it. His hand tightened in your hair, anchoring you as his free hand gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him. The heat of his body seeped into yours, his control over the kiss overwhelming in the best way.

His tongue slipped past your lips, commanding and deliberate, every movement sending shivers coursing through your body. The faint bitterness of the pill lingered, tangling with the heat of his taste, a combination that left your head spinning. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that bordered on desperate, rough yet devastatingly skilled. His grip in your hair tightened, tilting your head further back, giving him full control as his other hand gripped your waist, his fingers digging into your skin like he was staking a claim.

The world around you blurred, the muffled sounds of the party fading into nothing as the pill began to take hold. A slow, tingling warmth crept through your veins, heightening every sensation. The softness of his lips, the roughness of his grip, the way his body pressed against yours—it all became sharper, more vivid, like every nerve in your body was tuned to him. Your chest tightened as his tongue teased yours, drawing moans from you that only made him deepen the kiss, his hand sliding lower, splaying over your lower back to keep you pinned against him.

Mark growled low in his throat, the vibration against your lips sending another wave of heat spiraling through you. His kisses became messier, more urgent, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue. The pill’s effects amplified the sensation, making every brush of his lips and every flick of his tongue feel electric. Your moan vibrated against his mouth, your hands instinctively gripping his shoulders to steady yourself, but it only made him pull you closer. His fingers dug into your waist, his grip possessive as if he couldn’t bear the thought of you slipping away. The kiss deepened, messy and urgent, leaving you lightheaded and utterly consumed by him.

When he finally pulled back, his breath was ragged, his lips glistening and swollen as his gaze bore into yours. Your chest heaved, the pill now dissolving on your tongue, but you barely noticed—your thoughts were a blur of heat and want, your body buzzing from the electric connection between you. Mark didn’t say a word, didn’t need to. The intensity in his eyes, the way his hand remained tangled in your hair, said everything. And god, you wanted him to do it all over again.

Mark’s lips barely left yours, then he kissed you again, his hands roaming with a roughness that sent heat coursing through your veins. “You taste so fucking good,” he growled against your mouth, his teeth dragging over your lower lip before sucking it between his own. The sting melted into a wave of pleasure as his tongue swept over the spot, his dominance undeniable. His hands slid lower, gripping the back of your thighs with a possessive strength that had you gasping against his lips.

His hands gripped your thighs tightly, the heat of his palms searing through the fabric as his fingers dug in, possessive and demanding. “Come here, baby,” he growled, his tone dark and full of raw need, leaving no room for argument. He tugged you forward, your body colliding with his chest as his hands slid up, rough and deliberate, tracing the curve of your hips before grabbing your ass with a firm squeeze that made you gasp.

His grip tightened as he pulled you into his lap, the friction between you igniting sparks along your skin. His fingertips pressed into your flesh, kneading and claiming, leaving you breathless as his touch became more insistent. He dragged you closer, guiding your hips to grind against him, the hard press of his arousal against your core unmistakable.

“Right here,” he rasped, his breath hot against your jaw as his teeth scraped along your neck, his hands relentless in their exploration. “You feel that? That’s what you do to me. Stay right here, baby. Don’t move unless I tell you to.”

His grip on your hips tightened before one hand slid upward, trailing over your ribcage and coming to rest against your jaw. He tilted your face toward him, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, testing. “Open your pretty lips,” he commanded, his voice low and rough, a demand that sent a shiver down your spine. When you parted your lips, he slid his thumb inside, pressing it against your tongue.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his eyes dark with heat as he watched you. His thumb retreated, replaced by two fingers that pushed deeper, the taste of his skin flooding your senses. He didn’t stop, sliding a third finger past your lips, the stretch making you gag. Your throat constricted around them, and he groaned low in his chest, the sound thick with approval.

“Good girl,” he rasped, his other hand gripping your waist to keep you steady on his lap as you choked softly, your lips stretched around his fingers. He pushed in deeper, his pace unrelenting, the scrape of his calloused fingertips against your tongue making your thighs tense against his. “Look at you, taking it so well. Don’t stop, baby. Show me how good you can be.”

Your body moved against him, frantic and unrestrained, the friction pulling desperate moans from your lips as you ground yourself harder against the thick, unrelenting hardness beneath you. His hips thrust upward with equal fervor, meeting you with a pressure so perfect it sent waves of pleasure rippling through you. “Fuck, Mark,” you whimpered, your fingers digging into his shoulders, your nails scraping over his skin as you tried to hold onto some semblance of control. But there was none—he wasn’t giving you any.

The thin fabric of your dress had ridden up entirely, leaving nothing to the imagination. His grip tightened, his fingers pressing bruisingly into your flesh as a low, guttural groan tore from his throat. “You feel that?” he rasped, his voice thick with lust, his breath scorching against your ear. His hand came down sharply on your ass, the sting reverberating through your body as a startled gasp escaped your lips. “You’re fucking mine,”  he growled, his tone dripping with raw possession as another spank landed, the sting mixing with the fire building inside you. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten those videos you sent me tonight, baby. This little skirt…” His fingers curled around the fabric, pulling it higher. “You wore it for me, didn’t you?”

“It’s a dress,” you managed to breathe out, your voice shaky but laced with defiance, a smirk tugging at your lips despite the heat coursing through your body.

Mark chuckled darkly, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as his fingers tightened on your thigh. “Dress, skirt… doesn’t matter,” he murmured, his voice dropping even lower, dripping with intent. “Either way, I’m gonna make you regret wearing it around me.”

His hands gripped your hips firmly, rolling you down against him once with a rough grind that sent a jolt of heat straight through you. The friction was maddening, your need unbearable, and before you could stop yourself, you began bouncing on him, desperate for more, even through the barrier of his clothes. His chest heaved, his jaw tightening as his hands slid lower, grabbing you harder, guiding your movements with a possessive force. “Look at you,” he rasped, his voice dripping with lust, his dark eyes drinking in every move you made. “So needy, so fucking desperate to feel me. You want me to lose it, don’t you?”

He leaned in, his breath warm against your lips, his intent unmistakable, but you tilted your head back just enough to avoid him. A teasing smirk curved your lips, even as your heart pounded furiously in your chest. His eyes narrowed, darkening with frustration and something deeper, something raw. His hands tightened on your hips, fingers digging into your skin possessively, the heat of his grip anchoring you to the moment. “Playing hard to get now, baby?” he murmured, his voice low and full of warning, the tension between you crackling like a live wire.

Instead of chasing your lips, he shifted his attention, his mouth finding the curve of your neck. The first press of his lips was rough and deliberate, the wet heat of his tongue dragging over your skin before his teeth sank in just enough to make you gasp. He worked his way down slowly, his mouth claiming every inch, his teeth grazing over the sensitive spots that made your body arch against him. “You feel that?” he rasped, his voice dark and dripping with possession. “This is what you do to me. You love being mine, don’t you? Letting me take you apart like no one else can.”

You let out a shaky sigh, your fingers threading into his hair, tugging him closer as he left another mark just below your jaw. His tongue followed the curve of your pulse, the wet heat making your breath hitch. “God, your skin,” he muttered against you, his voice wrecked. “I could taste you forever.”

He pressed another open-mouthed, spongy kiss to your neck, sucking hard enough to leave a vivid hickey that throbbed with every beat of your heart. The sensation sent a shiver coursing through you, his name slipping from your lips in a breathless moan. “Mark…”

His teeth sank in slightly, pulling another moan from you as he marked you with precision, each kiss, bite, and lick a deliberate claim. His hand moved to your ass again, kneading the flesh before another sharp spank made you jolt in his lap. “Say it,” he demanded, his voice low and gravelly against your throat. “Say you’re mine.”

Your breaths were ragged, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you gasped out, “I’m yours.” The words tumbled out without hesitation, your resolve crumbling under the relentless force of his touch.

Mark’s lips curled into a smirk against your skin as his hand gripped your chin, tilting your face toward him with a deliberate roughness. “Damn right, you are,” His hands roamed your body with an unrelenting need, gripping, kneading, and exploring every inch, as the grinding between you turned frantic. The heat radiating from him wrapped around you, his every move leaving you breathless, trembling, and completely at his mercy

“Mark,” you whispered, your voice soft and breathless, a quiet plea wrapped in the sound of his name. Your eyelids fluttered, your gaze shifting toward the vape resting on the table, the silent message clear in the way your lips parted slightly, your chest rising and falling against his.

He chuckled low in his throat, the sound dark and intimate, vibrating against your skin as he pressed a lingering kiss to your jaw. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, teasing, as his hands tightened their hold on your waist, pulling you down against him in a way that made your breath hitch. “You sound so fucking pretty when you say my name like that,” he murmured, his voice a husky rasp, his eyes smoldering as they traced your every reaction. 

You reached for your vape, your fingers trembling slightly as you took a slow, deliberate pull. Mark’s eyes followed your every move, dark and smoldering, his pupils blown wide with raw hunger. His jaw tightened as his tongue swept over his bottom lip, the sight of you unraveled, so close and vulnerable, making something primal flare inside him. “Baby, come here,” you murmured, your voice low and thick with need as you took another drag, the smoke curling from your lips.

He didn’t hesitate. His lips hovered over yours, his breath hot and heavy as you exhaled the smoke directly into his mouth. His tongue slipped against yours, pulling the smoke from you, the action intimate, filthy, and laced with the sharp tang of blueberry. The kiss deepened, messy and consuming, as his hands roamed your body with unrestrained purpose. His fingers gripped your thighs, dragging the fabric of your dress higher, exposing the bare skin beneath. The heat of his touch left a trail of fire in its wake, his grip firm, commanding, as he held you exactly where he wanted you.

Mark’s groan rumbled low in his chest, vibrating against your lips as he pulled back just enough to speak. His hand moved to your waist, fingers pressing hard enough to bruise, his possessiveness raw and unrelenting. “You have no fucking idea, do you?” he rasped, his voice thick with lust and frustration. “You’re in my head, baby. Every second. Every goddamn moment. I can’t stop thinking about you—how you taste, how you feel. It’s driving me insane.”

Your lips curved into a sultry smirk as you leaned in closer, your breath brushing over the sharp line of his jaw. “Good,” you whispered, your voice dripping with challenge. “I want to ruin you, Mark. I want to be the only thing in your head.” Your teeth grazed his jaw, a deliberate taunt that had his breath catching, his grip on you tightening instinctively.

His laugh was dark, rough, almost feral, as his hand slid lower to cup your ass with a bruising intensity. Without warning, his palm came down sharply, the sound of the slap cutting through the heavy air. The sting burned through your skin, sending a jolt of heat straight to your core, and a gasp tore from your lips. “You fucking love it when I’m like this, don’t you?” he growled, his voice thick and commanding, his lips latching onto your neck. His teeth scraped over the sensitive skin before sucking hard, leaving a mark that screamed possession. “Admit it, baby,” he hissed against your skin, his voice dripping with heat. “You love knowing exactly what you do to me—how fucking crazy you make me.”

He didn’t say a word at first, his gaze locked on you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. The way his chest rose and fell, the faint sheen of sweat glistening along his collarbone, only added to the heat pooling in your stomach. His hand slid down to grip your thigh, the warmth of his palm searing against your skin as his thumb brushed a slow, deliberate line over the sensitive flesh. Everything about him—the sharpness of his jaw, the way his lips parted slightly as he caught his breath, the heat radiating from his body—was overwhelming in the best possible way. He looked devastatingly good, every inch of him dripping with raw, magnetic energy that drew you in like a flame.

You didn’t respond, your mind too clouded by the sharp mix of pleasure and heat coursing through you. Instead, you arched into him, your fingers tugging harder at his hair as his hips rolled up into yours. The friction was maddening, every movement stoking the fire burning low in your belly.

He pulled back slightly, his chest heaving against yours as his hand reached for your vape, his movements slow and deliberate. He brought it to his lips, his jaw clenching slightly as he took a long, measured drag, his cheeks hollowing in a way that made your breath hitch. The way he held it—confident, casual, and commanding—sent a ripple of heat straight through you. His lips, full and slightly flushed from kissing you, curved into the faintest smirk as he exhaled, the smoke swirling lazily between you, thick and intoxicating.

He tilted his head, his eyes heavy-lidded and locked onto yours, his gaze dripping with intent. The smoke lingered in the space between you, and as he leaned closer, the sharp scent of it mixed with his natural warmth. His lips hovered near yours, teasingly close as he exhaled softly, letting the smoke drift into your parted mouth. You inhaled it instinctively, his fingers curling around your hip as if to steady you, the small, deliberate touch sending a shiver down your spine.

“You like that?” he murmured, his voice low and rough, his breath warm against your lips as his thumb brushed along the curve of your waist. Every inch of him—his strong jawline, the veins visible on his forearms, the way his hoodie stretched over his chest—oozed raw, effortless heat. His tongue flicked out to wet his bottom lip, his smirk deepening as his hand slid up to cup your jaw, pulling you closer. The kiss that followed was deliberate and consuming, his lips parting against yours, his tongue sweeping in with a rhythm so maddeningly slow it left your body trembling, your mind reeling, and your breath utterly stolen.

The kiss that followed wasn’t soft—it was consuming. His lips crushed against yours, his tongue demanding entry as his hands tightened on your ass, kneading and squeezing with a roughness that made you whimper into his mouth. He guided your movements, pulling you harder against him, forcing your hips to roll over the solid heat pressing into you. The friction was maddening, sending waves of pleasure through you as his fingers dug deeper, spreading you wider over his lap.

“God, you’re mine,” you moaned, your voice trembling with need, your hands clutching his shoulders for balance as you rocked against him, desperate for more. His grip on your ass shifted, his hands sliding underneath your dress, the rough pads of his fingers brushing against your bare skin. 

He groaned low in his throat, leaning closer so his lips brushed against your ear, his voice dropping to a sinful whisper. “Say it again. Tell me who owns this perfect ass, baby.”

Your breath hitched, your head tilting back as his teeth grazed your jaw, his hands squeezing and spreading your cheeks, leaving no part of you untouched. “Yours,” you gasped, your voice cracking as he rolled his hips up into yours, the pressure between your bodies building to an unbearable height.

“That’s right,” he growled, his fingers dipping lower, teasing the sensitive skin just beneath your entrance, making your thighs tremble. “All fucking mine. Don’t ever forget it.”

But it wasn’t enough. The need clawing at your chest was insatiable, your body trembling as you pressed yourself against him. Your hands moved feverishly, trailing down his chest, nails raking over the fabric of his hoodie in frustration. You tugged at the hem, desperate to feel his skin under your fingertips.

“Mark,” you whined, louder this time, your voice cracking with need. You tilted your head back, meeting his gaze with eyes blown wide and pupils dark with lust. “Please—need you. Right now. Can’t take it anymore.”

His smirk deepened, lazy and infuriating, as his lips brushed along your jaw, each slow, deliberate movement teasing you further. “Yeah?” he rasped, his voice thick with mockery as his hands tightened on your hips, holding you still despite the frantic way you squirmed against him. “What do you need, baby? Hmm? Spell it out for me.”

Your hands scrambled to his waistband, tugging at his jeans with clumsy urgency, frustration making your fingers tremble. “I need you,” you panted, barely able to get the words out between shallow breaths. “Need your cock—please, Mark. Just—fuck me. Please.”

His laugh was sharp and cruel, a low, grating sound that made your cheeks burn with humiliation. He leaned back slightly, his dark eyes scanning you like a predator sizing up its prey. “Look at you,” he growled, his fingers slipping beneath your dress, sliding up the soft skin of your thighs with rough, deliberate strokes. His grip was bruising when he reached the curve of your hips, his nails biting into your flesh hard enough to make you whimper. “So messy. So fucking desperate for me. You’re pathetic, you know that?”

“No—” you tried to protest, but your voice faltered, your head shaking wildly as tears pricked at your eyes. Your hands yanked at his shorts again, the button refusing to give under your shaking fingers. “Take them off,” you begged, your voice trembling as desperation turned into sobs. “Mark, please—I need you.”

His hand shot up suddenly, the sharp crack of his palm connecting with your cheek leaving you gasping, the sting spreading like fire across your skin. Your body went rigid, your hands freezing as you looked up at him with wide, tear-filled eyes.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he growled, his voice low and dripping with menace, each word sending a shiver through your body. His gaze was molten, dark and commanding, pinning you in place with its unrelenting intensity. His hand gripped your wrist, firm but not painful, as he leaned closer, his breath hot against your skin. “After the shit you pulled tonight?” he hissed, his tone sharp, cutting. “You don’t get to call the shots, baby. Not when you’re acting like this.”

The heat on your cheek mixed with the unbearable ache clawing at your core, and your thighs pressed together involuntarily. A shaky moan escaped your lips, unbidden and humiliating, and his smirk widened at the sound.

“Oh, you like that, don’t you?” he sneered, his fingers gripping your chin roughly, tilting your head back so you couldn’t look away. “You like being put in your place. You like pushing me until I lose my patience.”

“Yes,” you whispered, Without a word, he hooked his arms under your thighs and lifted you off his lap, setting you down beside him with a controlled, almost punishing precision. His palms didn’t leave your body for a second, sliding down to your knees and forcing them apart with a rough, deliberate motion.

“Open,” he commanded sharply, his tone cutting through the haze clouding your mind. “Don’t make me fucking repeat myself.”

Your legs trembled as they fell open, but the hesitation wasn’t fast enough for him. His hands gripped your thighs with bruising force, shoving them apart even wider, making you gasp as he positioned himself between them. His strength left no room for resistance, and his smirk grew darker as he took in the sight of you—messy, desperate, and completely at his mercy.

“Good girl,” he growled, his breath hot against your neck. His teeth grazed your skin, hard enough to make you shudder. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

His free hand slid down, grabbing the front of your dress with no hesitation. With a rough pull, the fabric tore, the sound sharp and jarring as it split apart, leaving you bare underneath him. The rush of cool air against your exposed skin sent a shiver through you, but the heat of his gaze made you burn even hotter.

“Mark!” you gasped, squirming against his hold, but he only chuckled, his grip on your wrist tightening as his other hand ghosted down your stomach. “That was new!” 

“I don’t give a fuck,” he growled, his voice low and rough, his gaze flicking to the torn fabric of your dress. 

“Mark, please,” you sobbed, tears spilling over as your body writhed against his grip. “I’ll do anything—anything you want. Just touch me—please.”

His laugh was dark, almost cruel, as he pushed you back until your shoulders hit the cushions, his hand sliding from your wrist to wrap firmly around your throat. His grip tightened, making your breath hitch as your pulse quickened beneath his thumb. The pressure stole the air from your lungs, leaving you gasping softly, the sound only fueling the wicked smirk curving his lips. “Anything, huh?” he murmured, his voice a low, taunting rasp that sent a shiver through your body. His grip didn’t relent as he leaned closer, his eyes dark and commanding. “Then shut up,” he growled, his tone rough and dripping with dominance, “and take it.”

The world tilted as his hands locked onto your thighs, the force of his grip leaving no room for argument as he dragged you forward, pulling you higher until your knees bracketed his chest. His gaze was predatory, dark and commanding, the sharp edge of his smirk making your stomach flip. “Sit,” he growled, his voice rough, raw, and so sure of itself it made you shudder.

When you faltered, his grip tightened, bruising as his hands slid to your hips, lifting you effortlessly and positioning you over him. Your breath hitched as he adjusted you, spreading your thighs wide with firm hands, his movements deliberate and unrelenting. “Now,” he ordered, his tone sharp, brooking no defiance. Before you could process the shift, his hands gripped your ass, dragging you down hard, pressing you into him with a force that left you trembling, his fingers biting into your skin as he held you exactly where he wanted.

“Stay still,” he rasped, his voice rough and commanding, muffled against your skin as his lips grazed you with maddening precision. His grip tightened, possessive and unyielding, leaving bruising imprints of his control on your thighs. Your legs trembled, betraying your attempt at defiance, but his hold anchored you firmly, making it clear who was in charge.

A sharp, stinging spank landed on your ass, drawing a gasp that echoed into the charged air. The sound was obscene, your arousal slick against his palm. “I said, stay still,” he growled, his tone dark with warning, his breath hot as he dragged his lips along your most sensitive spots.

“Good,” he murmured, voice dripping with satisfaction as his lips curved into a wicked smirk. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, daring you to resist. “Now, be a good girl and let me take what’s mine.”

Your body arched instinctively, thighs quivering as his mouth claimed you with unrelenting hunger, each movement deliberate, calculated to reduce you to trembling submission. His nails scraped against your skin, dragging over heated flesh, making you squirm in desperate pleasure.

“Mark—!” you gasped, the sound breaking into a whimper as his tongue dragged through your folds with a filthy, primal groan. The wet, obscene glide of it against your slick skin made you shudder violently, your thighs clenching on instinct. His hot breath fanned over your most sensitive spots, dizzying you as the tremors wracking your body betrayed your helplessness. His grip on your thighs was punishing, his fingers digging in deeply enough to leave marks, grounding you in place as if daring you to move.

“Messy already,” he muttered against your pussy, his words muffled but dripping with mocking satisfaction. The vibration of his voice sent a shiver straight to your core, pulling a strangled moan from your lips. His tongue flicked out again, slower this time, the deliberate pace almost cruel as he licked and sucked like he was savoring every drop of you. “You want my attention? You’re going to fucking take it.”

Your hands shot to his hair, tangling in the damp strands as you tried to steady yourself, but your hips betrayed you, jerking up against his face with reckless desperation. His growl rumbled low and deep, a feral sound that sent a sharp wave of arousal through you. The vibrations of it reverberated against your clit, wrenching a broken cry from your lips. His nails dug deeper as he shifted, gripping the underside of your thighs and lifting you effortlessly, forcing more of your weight onto his mouth as your legs dangled helplessly.

“Stay still,” he commanded sharply again, his words muffled but laced with warning, his nails biting into your skin as he pinned you down harder. “You move again, and I’ll tie you to this fucking couch.”

The threat made your breath hitch, heat flooding your cheeks and pooling low in your stomach. The sheer dominance in his tone, in the way his hands manhandled you like you weighed nothing, sent your heart racing. His tongue was merciless, lapping and stroking in erratic patterns that left you unable to think, only feel. When his lips sealed around your clit, sucking with devastating precision, the sudden intensity sent stars bursting behind your eyes. You bucked again involuntarily, but his hands clamped you down tighter, holding you open and exposed to his unrelenting assault.

“Fuck, Mark!” you cried out, tears blurring your vision as his teeth grazed you lightly, just enough to tease and drive you closer to the edge. The wet, filthy sound of his tongue and lips working you over filled the room, mixing with your desperate gasps and moans. His stubble scraped against your inner thighs, the slight burn only amplifying the overwhelming sensation of his mouth devouring you.

“Don’t fucking stop now,” he growled, pulling back just enough to speak, his lips glistening with your slick before diving back in. “You wanted this—now take it.”

The obscene mess of it all was maddening—his mouth working against you with ruthless precision, his face glistening with the evidence of your arousal. His grip on your thighs was bruising, his fingers digging into your flesh as he held you wide open for him, leaving you completely at his mercy. Every movement of his lips, every deliberate stroke of his tongue, sent jolts of electric heat coursing through you, and the pressure building inside you was unbearable. You were trembling, teetering on the edge, unable to escape the raw need he was coaxing out of you.

“Mark—please!” you cried out, your voice breaking as your hips rocked against his face, seeking the release you were so desperately chasing. He growled low against you, the vibration sending another shockwave through your body, his tongue curling and teasing in ways that had your thighs quivering. You were so close—too close—your body tensing as the orgasm threatened to rip through you. “I can’t—I’m gonna—” The words spilled out between gasps, your grip on his hair tightening as your cries grew louder.

And then he stopped, his mouth pulling away just as your body teetered on the edge, leaving you trembling and squirming against the crushing emptiness. His breath was hot against your slick skin as he leaned back, his grip on your thighs unrelenting, keeping you pinned in place. “So fucking desperate,” he murmured, his voice low and taunting, sending a shiver down your spine. 

A strangled whimper escaped your lips, the sound raw and desperate, tears pricking at your eyes as your hips bucked instinctively, searching for the release he had stolen from you. “Please, Mark,” you choked out, your voice breaking, barely audible. 

“Look at you. Pathetic, dripping all over my face—and you still don’t get it, do you?” His fingers trailed up your thigh, stopping just short of where you craved him most, teasing with maddening precision. “You’ll come when I decide you’ve earned it,” he rasped, his tone dark and commanding. “And when you do, you’re gonna fucking thank me for every second I made you wait.”

His hands slid up your body, strong and deliberate, cupping your breasts with a possessiveness that made your breath catch. His thumbs brushed over your nipples, teasing them into hardened peaks, and the sensation shot through you like electricity. He leaned in without hesitation, his lips wrapping around one nipple as his tongue flicked over the sensitive bud. The wet heat of his mouth was overwhelming, each slow, deliberate movement making you whimper softly. His free hand gripped your other breast, kneading the soft flesh before his fingers pinched and rolled your nipple, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure straight to your core.

“Fuck, look at you,” he growled against your skin, his voice dripping with heat as his teeth grazed your sensitive nipple. “So desperate, so fucking perfect like this. You like being in my mouth, don’t you? You want me to ruin you completely?” He sucked harder, pulling a ragged gasp from your lips as your body arched under him, every nerve in your body alive with need.

“Mark,” you whimpered, your voice shaking as his tongue flicked over you again, relentless and unforgiving. He groaned low in his throat, the vibration sending shockwaves through you as his mouth latched onto the other nipple. his teeth scraping over the sensitive bud. 

You couldn’t hold back the sharp cry that escaped your lips as his mouth sucked harder, his hands squeezing your breasts with a bruising grip. Your fingers twisted in his hair, pulling him closer as you moaned helplessly, your hips shifting in frustration. “You’re mine,” he rasped, his tone dark and possessive. “And I’m gonna make sure you never forget it.”

The air was thick with the scent of sex and the sound of your panting breaths when Mark finally pulled away, leaving you trembling, every nerve in your body on fire. But he didn’t give you time to recover, didn’t let you catch even a shred of composure. His hands gripped your waist with bruising force, spinning you around as he hauled you off the couch like you weighed nothing. You barely had time to gasp before your back hit the wall beside the open door, the cool surface biting against your overheated skin.

“Mark—wait,” you managed to stammer, though you weren’t even sure what you were asking for. Your knees were weak, your legs trembling so violently you could hardly stand on your own. But he didn’t wait. His body pressed into yours, firm and unyielding, pinning you to the wall as his hands roughly turned you around.

“You think I’m going to stop now?” His voice was a low growl, dark and filled with a possessive hunger that sent a shiver down your spine. His fingers gripped your hips, forcing them to jut out as your palms scraped against the wall for balance. “You wanted this. You fucking begged for it.”

The sheer force of his strength was overwhelming. His body was the only thing keeping you upright, the heat and weight of him pressing into you so completely that your legs felt like jelly. The wall was cold and unrelenting beneath your hands, a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from his skin. His cock was hard and insistent, grinding against your ass with enough force to make you gasp, your breath catching as he pushed your thighs apart with his knee.

The door was open, the soft creak of it swaying in the air just loud enough to remind you of your vulnerability. No one was here—not yet—but the thought that anyone could walk past and see you like this, bent over and pinned to the wall with Mark’s hands roaming possessively over your body, only made your arousal spike. Your pulse raced, your face burning as your wetness slicked the insides of your thighs.

“You like this, don’t you?” Mark’s voice was laced with a mocking edge, his hand coming down sharply to smack your ass. The sound echoed through the room, followed by your startled moan. “The thought of someone catching you like this, seeing how desperate you are for me.”

You whimpered, your hips jerking back involuntarily, seeking more of the punishing friction of his cock against you. He chuckled darkly, his hand sliding between your legs to cup your pussy. His fingers pressed against your soaked folds, teasing you with deliberate slowness that had you arching back into him.

“Fuck, you’re dripping,” he groaned, his breath hot against your ear as his fingers slipped through your slick. “I could take you right here, make you scream loud enough for the whole fucking building to hear.”

“Mark,” you whimpered, your voice breaking as his fingers teased your entrance, circling but not pushing in. “Please—”

“Please, what?” he interrupted, his tone harsh and commanding. His other hand tangled in your hair, tugging your head back so you were forced to meet his gaze in the reflection of a nearby glass pane. “Use your words, baby. Tell me what you want.”

Your chest heaved, your heart pounding as you reached down, your trembling hand covering his. You dragged it over your stomach, lower, until his fingers hovered just above the spot where you ached for him most. The weight of his hand against your skin was grounding, a teasing promise of what you needed.

“I wanna feel you right here, baby,” you whined, your voice trembling, high-pitched and dripping with desperation. You grabbed his hand, pressing it against your lower stomach, your hips shifting needily under his touch. “Please, I want you so bad—so deep I can feel you here,” you whimpered, your words slurred and needy, your lips brushing his jaw as you begged. “I’ll be so good, I swear, I’ll take it all—just please, baby, I need you.”

Mark groaned, the sound guttural and raw, his control slipping for a fraction of a second as your words sank in. His fingers flexed against your stomach, his hand pressing harder as if he could already imagine the way he’d fill you. “Say that again,” he demanded, his tone a mix of rough hunger and command. “Say exactly what you want, and I’ll make sure you feel me there for days.”

“I want you to fill me, Mark,” you breathed, your voice trembling but laced with raw need. Your hand slid over his, pressing it harder against your stomach as your hips arched into him. “I want to feel you so deep it’s the only thing I can fucking think about.”

In one fluid motion, his hands gripped your hips with bruising force, yanking you back against him as the blunt head of his cock pressed against your entrance. He didn’t ease in—didn’t give you even a second to adjust. With one hard, punishing thrust, he buried himself inside you, stretching you so completely that a sharp cry tore from your lips, loud and uncontrollable in the still air.

“Fuck,” he growled, his fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise as he slammed into you with relentless force. His cock stretched you to your limit, the sharp sting of it only making the pleasure more intense. “You’re gripping me so fucking tight—like your body was made to take me.”

The wall was cold and unforgiving against your chest, your nipples pebbling from the icy contact as they dragged against the unyielding surface with every thrust. The sharp contrast of the chill against your overheated skin sent jolts of sensation through your body, heightening the intensity of every movement. His hands gripped your hips so tightly you knew there would be bruises tomorrow, evidence of the way he claimed you. His body was the only thing keeping you upright, his strength pinning you to the wall as he fucked you harder, his movements precise and punishing.

You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, the open door was a constant reminder of how exposed you were. Every moan, every filthy sound of his cock driving into you, echoed into the empty space beyond the room. Anyone could walk past and hear you, see the way your body arched into him, the way your hands scrabbled at the wall for purchase.

“You like that, don’t you?” Mark growled, his breath hot and rough against your neck as his hand came down hard on your ass, the sharp sting drawing a gasp from your lips. “You like being my filthy little whore, don’t you? Bent over for me, dripping, knowing anyone could walk in and see how fucking desperate you are.”

“Yes,” you choked out, the word tumbling from your lips before you could stop it, your face burning with a mix of humiliation and arousal. “Fuck, yes. I love it.”

“Of course you do,” he muttered darkly, his voice thick with satisfaction. His pace quickened, his hips slamming into you with enough force to make the wall rattle. “You’re such a dirty little thing, letting me take you like this with the fucking door open.”

You moaned his name, your voice breaking as his cock hit that perfect spot inside you, sending shocks of pleasure through your entire body. Your legs trembled, barely able to hold you up, but his hands tightened on your hips, anchoring you to him.

“Stay up,” he commanded, his tone sharp and demanding. “Don’t you dare fucking fall.”

“I—I can’t,” you whimpered, your voice shaking as your arms buckled against the wall. “Mark, I can’t—”

“Then let me hold you,” he growled, his hands sliding up to grip your waist as he pressed you even harder against the wall. His strength was overwhelming, his body the only thing keeping you from collapsing completely. “You don’t need to do anything, baby. Just let me fuck you.”

His words sent a fresh wave of heat through you, your body tightening around him as you gasped his name. The roughness of his pace, the way his cock filled you so completely, the sheer dominance in his every movement—it was all too much. The thought of someone seeing you, hearing the filthy sounds he was dragging from you, only made the pleasure sharper, hotter. You felt yourself slipping further, so cock drunk and fucked out that you lost control of your moans, your voice echoing loudly through the room as you screamed his name over and over.

The sound of footsteps echoed faintly from the hall, followed by a distant voice. Your eyes widened in panic, and you gasped sharply, the sound barely escaping before Mark’s hand clamped firmly over your mouth.

“Shh,” he murmured, his tone low but laced with a dangerous edge, his lips brushing your ear as he pressed his body even harder against yours. “Can’t have anyone hearing my girl like this,” he growled, his voice rough but intimate, the possessiveness in his words making your knees weaken further. His hand over your mouth tightened slightly, the pressure making you moan softly against his palm. “They’ll get fucking ideas. You wouldn’t want that, would you? Letting someone else hear how desperate you are for my cock?”

His hips didn’t stop, driving into you with a slow, deliberate force that left you trembling. His free hand slid up your body, fingers curling around your throat as he leaned in closer, pressing soft, tender kisses to your cheek and jawline. “You can scream for me later,” he whispered, his voice rough but tinged with something softer. “But right now, you’re going to stay quiet and take it, just like the good girl you are.”

Your muffled whimpers vibrated against his palm, your body shaking as he kissed a trail down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin before soothing the mark with his tongue. His lips lingered, brushing over the corner of your mouth as he whispered, “You’re so fucking perfect like this. Just let me take care of you.”

The intimate sweetness of his touch contrasted sharply with the roughness of his thrusts, each brutal snap of his hips slamming his cock deep inside you and meeting the curve of your ass with a filthy, resounding slap. The hard press of his body pinned you against the cold wall, his relentless rhythm leaving no part of you untouched. Your muffled cries grew louder, uncontrolled, as the footsteps in the hall faded, the fear of being caught only making you tremble harder, your body arching helplessly into the  pace that pushed you closer to the edge

Mark’s hand stayed firm over your mouth, his lips still brushing over your skin, trailing kisses along your jaw and down the side of your neck. “That’s it, baby girl” he murmured, his voice low and dripping with satisfaction. “You’re fucking perfect—my perfect little mess.”

Your walls clenched tighter around him, your body betraying the overwhelming pleasure even as you tried to keep yourself from completely falling apart. His fingers flexed against your throat, his grip possessive as he kept you pinned to the wall, his body the only thing holding you together. His hand slid lower, teasing over your breast, his thumb flicking your nipple, the cold wall pressing against you heightening the sensitivity.

“I can feel how close you are,” he rasped, his voice raw as his teeth nipped at your earlobe. “Don’t hold back. I want you to let go for me, baby. Come on my cock. Show me who you belong to.”

The mix of his commanding words and the intimate touches of his lips and hands was too much. Your body gave in, a muffled scream escaping against his palm as your orgasm tore through you, your walls clenching and pulsing around him as you shook violently in his hold.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he groaned, his hips stuttering as he thrust deep one last time, burying himself completely inside you. The warmth of his release filled you, a deep, claiming sensation that left you utterly wrecked. He stayed there, pressed against you, his forehead resting against your shoulder as his breath came in heavy, uneven pants.

Slowly, he removed his hand from your mouth, turning your head toward him as he captured your lips in a slow, almost tender kiss. “You did so good for me,” he whispered against your lips, his tone softer now, filled with quiet reverence. “So fucking perfect.”

His hands smoothed over your waist, steadying you as your legs threatened to give out completely. He pulled out of you slowly, a hiss escaping his lips at the sensation, and turned you in his arms to face him. His thumb brushed over your cheek, wiping away a tear that had slipped down from the intensity.

“You still with me?” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, though that teasing edge still licked at his tone. His lips brushed your temple, trailing down to your ear as he kissed the delicate curve and whispered, “That’s my girl. You’re so fucking perfect when you fall apart for me.” The softness of his words wrapped around you like silk, a stark contrast to the bruising grip of his hands just minutes ago.

Your body trembled as you nodded weakly, too wrecked to form a coherent response. Mark didn’t waste a second, spinning you around and forcing you down onto the couch with an almost feral precision. Your face pressed into the cushions, muffling the desperate, broken sounds spilling from your lips, while your ass arched high into the air, completely exposed to his control. His hand tangled in your hair, yanking hard enough to send a sharp jolt through your spine, forcing your back to curve further as he asserted his dominance. His other hand gripped your waist like a vice, his fingers sinking deep into your skin, holding you in place as he pressed the thick head of his cock against your entrance. Without a word, he yanked your hips back sharply, burying himself inside you in one devastating motion.

Mark didn’t thrust; he didn’t need to. His grip on your waist tightened, and with brutal precision, he dragged you back onto his cock, forcing you to take every inch at his pace. The stretch was overwhelming, your walls struggling to adjust as he held firm, letting the weight of his cock fill you completely. He pulled you back again, harder this time, the obscene slickness of your arousal making the movement smooth and relentless. “Look at you,” he growled, his voice low and filthy, his fingers digging into your waist as he used your body like it was made for him. “

He kept you pinned there, forcing you to rock on his cock as he dragged you back with punishing force, his hands controlling the rhythm and depth without ever moving himself. Your thighs trembled with the effort, every pull making your cries grow louder as the sound of your slick arousal and his deep groans filled the room. “You’re not going anywhere,” he snarled, one hand moving to deliver a sharp, stinging slap to your ass. The burn made you jolt forward, but his iron grip dragged you right back, slamming you onto his cock again. “This is where you belong—on my cock, taking me like the dirty little whore you are.” His other hand slipped between your cheeks, spreading them wide before he spit, letting the slick warmth drip between them. His thumb circled your tight hole, teasing it with deliberate pressure as he continued to yank you back onto him, each motion rougher than the last.

Mark’s hand slid down your spine, slow and deliberate, until his fingers reached the tight, untouched spot hidden between your cheeks. He didn’t hesitate, circling the delicate ring of muscle with a slick, teasing motion that made your entire body jolt. His touch was firm yet testing, the pressure increasing just enough to force a gasp from your lips as he worked the wetness into your skin, spreading it over the sensitive entrance with calculated precision. Your back arched instinctively, your body betraying you, pushing against his fingers despite the overwhelming heat pooling in your core. “Yeah, you like that,” he growled, his voice low and rough, vibrating with satisfaction as his fingers pressed harder, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that sent shivers through you. 

When he pushed the tip of one finger inside, testing your limits, your breath hitched, a sharp cry escaping you as he chuckled darkly. “That’s it,” he rasped, his cock still buried deep inside you, unmoving but heavy, stretching you completely as his hand worked you open in another way. He dragged his finger in and out slowly, filthy and deliberate, each push making your body tremble violently, each pull making you clench tighter around him. “You take me so fucking good,” he murmured, his tone thick with dark amusement as his finger teased deeper, curling slightly before retreating again, his grip on your waist tightening as he controlled every reaction you gave him.

But the intensity became too much. The weight of his presence, the heat of his body pressed against yours, and the deliberate way he controlled every inch of you—it left you gasping for air. Instinctively, your hands gripped the cushions beneath you, clawing at the soft fabric, a weak attempt to create some space, to ease the overwhelming sensations coursing through you. Mark caught the subtle shift instantly, his hand snapping to your wrist with a firm grip and pinning it beside your head. He leaned down, his body pressing harder against yours, holding you exactly where he wanted. “Where do you think you’re going?” he rasped, his tone rough but laced with a quiet dominance that sent a shiver straight through you. His free hand slid to your jaw, tilting your face back to meet his piercing gaze. “Why are you running from me, baby? Hmm?”

His hips shifted slightly, and you felt the insistent press of his cock inside your walls, teasing and unrelenting, as though he was waiting for you to break completely. “Come here,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave, heavy with untamed desperation. “Let me make you feel good.” His hand slid from your jaw to your neck, his fingers wrapping firmly around your throat as he shifted your head to the side, forcing your gaze to lock with his. 

“I wasn’t running,” you whimpered, your voice unsteady, shaky with need and overwhelmed desire. Your body squirmed helplessly in front of him, caught between the unbearable intensity of his dominance and the craving for more. Mark’s smirk deepened, a satisfied, knowing glint in his eyes as he chuckled softly, his grip firm as he pushed you further into submission. “Good,” he growled. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

Mark’s filthy words filled the air, each one sharper, dirtier, and more unhinged than the last. “So fucking tight,” he rasped, his hips snapping brutally as his cock drove into you with an intensity that left you gasping. “You’re mine. My dirty little whore who takes everything I give her.” The sharp crack of his hand smacking your ass rang through the room, the sting forcing a broken cry from your lips. He spread your cheeks wide, spitting between them with obscene precision before using his thumb to rub it in. The wet heat only added to the overwhelming sensations consuming you, your cries growing louder as his fingers teased and pressed, filthy and relentless.

The added stimulation had you spiraling. His fingers teased you shamelessly, pushing you closer to the edge with every deliberate stroke as his cock stretched you, filling you to the brim with every punishing thrust. “Look at you,” he growled, his free hand snaking down to rub your swollen clit roughly. “Fucking ruined under me. You love this, don’t you? Love being my filthy little slut who takes it all.” The combination of his filthy words, the brutal snap of his hips, and the relentless pressure on your clit shattered you. Your body tightened around him, trembling violently as a scream tore from your throat, the intensity of your release leaving you breathless and sobbing into the cushions.

But Mark didn’t stop. He wasn’t finished with you yet. His pace only grew harder, more ruthless, as he chased his own release. “Take it,” he snarled, his voice rough and guttural, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulled you back onto his cock with every savage thrust. “Take everything I give you.” His name left your lips in a broken plea, your body overwhelmed and wrecked beneath him, but the sound only pushed him further.

When he finally came, it was with a deep, guttural moan, his hips slamming into you one last time as he buried himself to the hilt, holding you still as he spilled into you. The heat of his release left you trembling, your body quivering from the aftershocks as he leaned over you, his breath ragged and heavy against your ear as he pants and moans. 

Mark didn’t let go. His hands stayed firm on your hips, holding you in place as if you might try to escape. Your cries grew louder, desperate and raw. His mouth dragged hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck, his teeth sinking into your skin with enough pressure to leave burning marks. “I know, I know,” he rasped, his voice thick with a mix of dark satisfaction and raw need as your whimpers vibrated against him. His hips snapped harder, punishing, leaving you trembling and gasping for air. “But you’re going to take it, baby.” 

His hand gripped your jaw, forcing your head to the side to face him, his dark eyes locking with yours. “Open,” he commanded, his tone rough but teasing as his thumb dragged over your bottom lip. The moment your lips parted, he leaned closer, spitting into your mouth, the obscene act sending a jolt of heat straight through you. “Swallow,” he rasped, his hips snapping harder, his cock filling you so completely it left you whimpering around him. 

And you stayed like this for so long, trapped in the filthy, consuming intensity of him, your body molded to his as if you were made to fit him. His cock stayed buried deep inside you, every subtle twitch and shift reminding you who owned you, who kept you trembling and filled to the brim. His hand never left your jaw, his thumb occasionally brushing your lips as he made you swallow every filthy word, every guttural moan that left his mouth. His other hand stayed locked on your waist, keeping you exactly where he wanted, every slight adjustment sending aftershocks rippling through your overstimulated body. The night stretched endlessly, the heat between you mingling with the slick evidence of your need, as he whispered dark promises into your ear, his hips rocking slow and deliberate, ensuring you never forgot how completely he had you. You lost all sense of time, surrendering entirely to him as the air grew heavy with your mingled breaths and the unrelenting hum of raw, unfiltered desire.

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Your eyes blinked open, the soft golden light streaming through partially closed blinds casting unfamiliar patterns on the muted walls around you. The space wasn’t your own—too orderly, too quiet—and it certainly wasn’t Mark’s chaotic college apartment. Confusion stirred for the briefest moment, but it melted away as you became acutely aware of him. His arm was draped heavily over your waist, the weight possessive but comforting, pinning you against the solid warmth of his chest. His breath fanned over the nape of your neck, slow and steady, the faint rhythm of his snoring grounding you in a way that nothing else could.

The scent of him—clean, earthy, unmistakable—wrapped around you like a shield, and the tension you hadn’t even realized you were holding slipped away. You didn’t need to know where you were, not when his hold felt so familiar, so certain. Carefully, you shifted beneath his arm, your movements slow and deliberate, not wanting to disturb the way his fingertips unconsciously flexed against your skin as though he could sense even the smallest hint of distance. Reaching for your phone on the bedside table, you tried to stretch without breaking the warmth surrounding you, your body still pressed tightly against his. The faint glow of the screen lit your face as you unlocked it, the weight of responsibility tugging at you—college work, deadlines, the world beyond this bed.

y/n — sorry i had to leave you this morning, i have some college work to do. i’ll call you later :)

Before you could press send, his fingers wrapped around your wrist, firm but not forceful, stopping you mid-motion. “Y/N,” Mark murmured, his voice a low rasp that sent a jolt through you. The way he said your name, even half-asleep, was enough to make your heart skip. His hand didn’t let go, pulling you gently back toward him as his eyes cracked open. They were heavy with exhaustion but soft with concern as they focused on you. “Where are you going?” he asked, his tone warm and grounding, like he couldn’t imagine waking up without you there.

His brows furrowed slightly as his thumb brushed absentmindedly over your skin. “Why are you trying to leave like that?” he asked, his voice more awake now, though still laced with a teasing edge. “Next time, just wake me up.”

You bit your lip, feeling the weight of his sleepy but pointed stare. “You looked too peaceful to bother,” you murmured, glancing away, but his hand caught your chin, gently tilting your face back toward him.

He didn’t respond right away, but the shift in his hold spoke louder than words. His arm tightened around your waist, the firm press of his body pulling you closer, as though letting you go was an impossibility he refused to entertain. The heat of his chest seeped into your back, his grip possessive yet tender, a silent plea he didn’t try to hide. His fingers flexed slightly against your skin, anchoring you there, his need unspoken but palpable. It wasn’t just the physicality—it was the way he held you, as if the very thought of losing your warmth left him raw.

“I really need to go,” you whispered, though the words wavered as your lips brushed against his, soft and hesitant. His groan was immediate, low and dramatic, vibrating against your skin as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. His breath was warm and teasing as he trailed lazy kisses along your shoulder, the slow drag of his lips leaving goosebumps in their wake. “Why can’t you just stay?” he muttered, his voice rough with reluctance, punctuated by the way his hand slid up your hip, fingers curling slightly to hold you tighter.

You sighed, glancing around the unfamiliar room as his touch made it hard to focus. “Where even are we?”

He propped himself up on one elbow, his smirk soft but teasing as his thumb brushed over your hip. “The house I grew up in,” he murmured, his eyes locking on yours, gauging your reaction. “The Uber to my place was cost too much last night, and after how high we got, there was no way I was driving,” he added, the corner of his mouth tugging upward as if daring you to argue.

Your brow furrowed as you scanned the room again, warmth blooming in your chest as the details clicked into place. The cozy space suddenly felt intimate, safe, an extension of Mark himself. “Why don’t I remember any of this?” you asked, curiosity lacing your tone as you shifted slightly against him.

His low chuckle sent a ripple of heat through you as he leaned in, his lips brushing just below your ear, his voice dropping to a teasing murmur. “You were out cold,” he said, his tone dripping with playful satisfaction. His hand gripped your hip a little firmer, pulling you snugly against him. “Guess I fucked you so good you didn’t even notice where we ended up.” His words were a mix of cocky and intimate, the kind of teasing that sent your heart racing and left you achingly aware of every point where his body met yours.

You roll your eyes, ignoring his teasing remarks as you had become so accustomed to them. “I’m sorry, but I really need to go. I have assignments due today that I haven’t even started,” you said, your tone soft but resolute, though the warmth of his grip made leaving harder than you cared to admit.

Mark groaned dramatically, throwing his head back against the pillow before rolling onto his back with exaggerated frustration. “Fine, fine,” he muttered, dragging a hand over his face like he was being asked to endure the impossible. But when his eyes found yours again, the teasing edge softened, replaced by something quieter, something more vulnerable. “We need to talk later, though, yeah?” His voice was calm, low, but there was an unmistakable weight in his words that made your chest tighten.

You nodded, leaning down to press your lips against his, the kiss slow and lingering, filled with more unspoken promises than either of you could voice. “Yeah. Later,” you whispered, your words feather-light as you pulled back, letting your gaze linger on him for just a moment longer before reluctantly pulling yourself away.

As you slid out of his hold and stood, his gaze followed you, a faint frown tugging at his lips. “Do you know the way out?” he asked, his voice still thick with sleep. “Wait—give me ten minutes, and I’ll drive you to campus.”

You shook your head, pulling on your jacket and grabbing your bag. “I’ll be fine. Go back to sleep. I’ll call you later.”

Before you could fully step away, his hand caught your wrist again, tugging you back down for one last kiss. It was softer this time, almost tender, as if he wanted to make sure you felt it for the rest of the day. “Alright. Bye, baby,” he murmured against your lips, releasing you with a sleepy grin.

You couldn’t help but smile as you turned, glancing back once to see him flop back into the pillows, his breathing evening out almost immediately. Shaking your head, you slipped out of the room, quietly shutting the door behind you.

As you walked down the stairs, you took in the details of the house. The banister was worn smooth, polished by years of use, and the walls were lined with framed photographs that seemed to tell the story of Mark’s life. You paused at one—a young Mark, grinning wide, his front teeth missing, with Doyoung standing behind him, arms crossed in mock disapproval. Another showed Mark in his basketball uniform, holding a trophy, his proud smile infectious.

Your lips curved into a small smile as you moved further, your fingertips brushing the frames. But time was pressing, and you couldn’t linger. You hurried down the last few steps, pushing open the front door—only to freeze in surprise.

You were suddenly standing in a small cafe, its cozy warmth immediately wrapping around you. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods filled the air, and sunlight spilled through the large windows, illuminating tables adorned with mismatched chairs and hand-knitted coasters. You blinked, confused. This hadn’t been here last night, had it? Then you remembered—Mark’s mom had mentioned owning a cafe, but you hadn’t realized it was attached to the house.

“Good morning, Y/N.”

You jumped at the sound of Irene’s voice, turning to see her behind the counter, carefully icing cupcakes. Her smile was warm, even though she hadn’t looked up yet.

“Oh, morning,” you replied, your voice hesitant as you stepped further inside. You weren’t sure if you should stay or leave, but before you could decide, Irene glanced up and motioned toward one of the chairs.

“Sit,” she said gently but firmly, leaving no room for argument. “What’s your coffee order?”

You hesitated, then gave it, watching as she moved around the counter with practiced ease. The cafe suited her—a reflection of her warm, welcoming personality. The walls were lined with shelves holding jars of coffee beans, plants spilling from terracotta pots, and pictures of happy customers. It felt lived-in, loved, much like the woman herself.

Irene placed a steaming cup in front of you before settling across from you, her gaze steady but kind. “How are you?” she asked gently, her tone warm but probing. “And Mark?”

You hesitated, taking a sip of the coffee to stall. “I’m fine. Busy.” Your voice was clipped, guarded. “Mark’s… fine too.”

Irene’s soft smile didn’t waver. “I heard you two broke up,” she said simply, tilting her head slightly, as though studying you. “I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but I’ve never seen him more at peace than when he’s with you.”

Your grip tightened slightly on the cup, her words landing heavier than you expected. “It’s… complicated,” you muttered, keeping your voice low, unwilling to meet her gaze for too long.

Irene reached across the table, her hand lightly covering yours. “Life is complicated,” she said gently but firmly, her touch grounding. “But love doesn’t have to be. Mark loves you, Y/N. And from the way you’re looking at me right now, I think you love him too. Don’t let fear stop you from being happy. You both deserve that.”

The cafe was quiet, as you’d expect this early in the morning, the faint hum of an overhead fan and the gentle clink of Irene’s utensils the only sounds breaking the stillness. You took a sip of your coffee, glancing around the cozy space. The mismatched chairs, hand-knit coasters, and the faint smell of cinnamon—it all felt so warm, so Irene. You thought this might be a good time to slip out unnoticed, but before you could make a move, the door swung open with a light jingle.

The door jingled, drawing your attention toward the entrance. To your surprise, Seulgi walked in, her laughter carrying into the quiet cafe, and beside her was Mark’s best friend. They were deep in conversation, their easy going interaction catching you off guard. It was a sight you hadn’t expected—especially given that Jeno and Mark’s best friend were now not on good terms. Seeing Seulgi, Jeno’s mom, laughing and walking side by side with her felt almost surreal.

When their eyes landed on Irene, they both smiled warmly, but as their gazes shifted to you, their expressions shifted. Seulgi’s brows lifted in recognition, and Mark’s best friend’s face remained neutral, though her sharp eyes briefly flickered with something you couldn’t place.

“Y/N?” Seulgi said, her tone surprised but warm as she crossed the room toward you. She didn’t hesitate to pull you into a firm hug, her arms wrapping around you tightly. You froze at first, caught off guard, but relaxed slightly into her familiar embrace. Despite everything, you’d always had a soft spot for Seulgi’s warmth.

“What are you doing here?” she asked as she pulled back, her sharp eyes scanning your face for answers.

You opened your mouth, but no words came. What could you say? The truth—that you’d spent last night with Mark and this was where he’d brought you—felt too raw and inappropriate to admit. Your silence hung for a beat too long, and Seulgi tilted her head knowingly.

“Ah, you’re here with Mark, right?” she said knowingly, her voice low enough that it didn’t carry across the room. “Jeno did tell me the two of you were… together.”

Your face burned, and you quickly looked away, stammering out a weak, “Yeah… something like that.”

Seulgi raised an eyebrow but said nothing more, her smirk deepening as she stepped back, her attention shifting to Irene, who had just finished icing another tray of cupcakes.

“Morning, Seulgi,” Irene greeted, her tone warm but brisk. She glanced at Mark’s best friend, who had stayed near the door, her gaze flickering between you and Seulgi. “Can you start setting up the pastry display? And refill the coffee station while you’re at it.”

Mark’s best friend gave a clipped nod, her expression unreadable as she brushed past you and headed behind the counter. There was something in her eyes—an unmistakable sadness—that made your throat tighten. You swallowed hard, your thoughts immediately circling back to whatever Jeno might have done. She glanced at you briefly, her smile tight and distant, polite but far from warm.

The hum of the coffee grinder filled the air as she prepared her drink, her movements quick and purposeful. Despite her efficiency, you couldn’t ignore the tension in her body, the way she avoided looking at you again. It was clear something was weighing on her, and it lingered in the silence between you like an unspoken question.

The awkwardness lingered in the air, but Seulgi, always the conversationalist, broke the silence. She pulled out a chair next to you and sat down, resting her elbows on the table as she looked you over. “So,” she started, her tone casual but pointed. “How long have you and Mark been… a thing?”

You hesitated, glancing at Irene for help, but she was busy arranging cupcakes. Seulgi leaned in slightly, her smirk widening. “Come on, Y/N. Don’t leave me hanging.”

Before you could stammer out a response, Irene set down her tray and joined you, her tone light but deliberate. “You don’t need to interrogate her, Seulgi,” she said, casting you a reassuring look. “Let her breathe.”

Seulgi leaned back, raising an eyebrow at Irene but relented, her smirk softening. “Alright, alright,” she said, holding up her hands in mock surrender. “I’ll back off… for now.”

You let out a quiet breath, grateful for Irene’s intervention, though you could still feel Seulgi’s eyes on you, curious and calculating. Mark’s best friend, meanwhile, had settled behind the counter with her coffee, leaning against it as she watched the interaction from afar. Her clipped expression earlier lingered in your mind, and you couldn’t help but feel her silent assessment.

“So, Y/N,” Irene said, sitting down across from you again, her voice warm and grounding. “How’s college treating you?” Her tone had shifted, softer now, as if sensing how much you were struggling to find your footing in this unexpected situation.

“It’s fine,” you replied shortly, avoiding her gaze as you sipped your coffee.

She didn’t let the conversation end there. “What do you study?” she asked, her curiosity gentle but insistent.

“Photography,” you answered after a brief pause, glancing at her.

Irene tilted her head slightly, her brows lifting with interest. “What’s that like?” she asked, her tone genuine, as if she really wanted to understand.

For the first time in the conversation, you felt a small, genuine smile tug at your lips. “It’s… freeing, I guess. There’s something about capturing a moment exactly as it is, or even how you see it in your head, that feels special. It’s not just taking pictures—it’s about perspective, emotion, storytelling. Sometimes, you see things no one else notices until they look at your photo, and it’s like sharing a part of yourself without having to say a word.”

Irene didn’t interrupt, her eyes fixed on you as you spoke. There was no dismissive nod or vague smile—she was listening, her attention fully on you. The way her expression softened and her gaze never wavered made something settle warm inside you, a quiet kind of reassurance you hadn’t expected. “That sounds amazing,” she said softly, and for the first time since sitting down, you felt the tension in your chest ease.

Seulgi leaned forward, her sharp but kind eyes meeting yours as her tone softened, unexpectedly changing the conversation. “You know,” she began, her voice lower, more personal. “I’ve missed you. After you and Jeno broke up, I stopped hearing from you, and that made me sad. I saw you as a daughter, Y/N,” she admitted, her lips curving into a faint, nostalgic smile. “And I still do.”

The weight of her words caught you off guard, and your chest tightened as guilt began to claw at you. You swallowed hard, unable to meet her gaze for a moment, apology written all over your face. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just…” You paused, searching for the right words. “I thought you wouldn’t want to see me anymore—after Jeno and I ended things. I figured it’d be too awkward.”

Seulgi’s expression softened even further, her brow furrowing as she reached out to place a hand over yours. “Of course not,” she said, her voice firm but laced with reassurance. “You didn’t hurt me. And you’re wrong if you think I’d ever want to stop seeing you just because of that.” She gave your hand a small squeeze, her gaze unwavering.

“You and Jeno weren’t right for each other, and I think you both knew that deep down. As much as I love him, I could see the cracks. You two are better as friends, and there’s no shame in that.” Her voice was steady, warm, as though she’d thought about this a hundred times before saying it to you. “What I want for you—and for Jeno—is to be with people who bring out the best in you. That’s what matters to me. Always.”

As she spoke, her eyes briefly flicked toward Mark’s best friend, who was focused on the coffee station, oblivious to the glance. The movement was so quick, so subtle, that it barely registered, but something about it gave her words an extra layer of meaning you couldn’t quite place.

You nodded slowly, feeling the tension in your chest begin to ease. “Okay,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. It was all you could manage, but Seulgi smiled warmly, as if she understood exactly what you meant.

“Good,” she said with a quiet chuckle, patting your hand before leaning back in her chair. “Just don’t disappear on me again, alright? You’ll always be welcome in my life, no matter what.”

Seulgi’s reassurance settled deep within you, her words carrying more weight than you expected. For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt the warmth of belonging—an unspoken promise that, despite everything, you still had a place in her life. It was disarming, to say the least, and as her hand squeezed yours gently before pulling back, you found yourself unable to respond beyond a soft nod and an almost shy, “Thank you.”

She smiled warmly, leaning back in her chair as if her job was done, but then Irene joined in, her voice cutting through the brief silence. “Seulgi’s right,” she said, her tone softer but no less encouraging. “You’ve been carrying a lot on your shoulders, haven’t you?” Her words weren’t accusatory—they were understanding, and they hit you squarely in the chest.

You shrugged, taking another sip of your coffee to avoid answering outright. “I’m fine,” you said vaguely, your voice low. “It’s just… life, I guess.”

“Life?” Seulgi repeated with a small laugh, raising an eyebrow. “That’s the best you’ve got? Come on, Y/N, we’re not here to judge you. We’re here to help.”

You hesitated, glancing between them—the warmth of Irene’s gaze and the playful curiosity in Seulgi’s making it hard to keep your walls up. “I don’t know what to say,” you admitted finally, setting your cup down and fidgeting with the handle.

“How about starting with how you feel about Mark?” Irene suggested, her voice light but probing.

Your stomach twisted, and you glanced away, trying to hide the heat rising to your cheeks. “It’s… complicated,” you said softly, your go-to answer whenever the topic of Mark came up.

Seulgi smirked, leaning forward again. “Complicated, huh? You keep saying that, but I’m not buying it. What’s really going on?”

You sighed, your fingers tightening around the edge of your cup. “We’ve reconnected,” you said vaguely, your words hesitant. “It’s been… nice.”

“Nice,” Seulgi echoed with a playful roll of her eyes. “You’re killing me with all these one-word answers, Y/N.”

Irene smiled gently, her hand resting on the table near yours. “It’s okay to feel conflicted. But if you’re here, and Mark brought you to his childhood home, that tells me there’s more to this than just ‘nice.’ You’re the first and only girl he’s ever brought here.”

You bit your lip, glancing between Seulgi and Irene, their unwavering attention making it impossible to deflect. The lack of judgment in their expressions, the way their warmth seemed to seep into the room, chipped away at the walls you’d carefully built around this part of yourself. Against your better judgment, the words began to spill. It started slow—a vague mention of how you and Mark had started talking again—but their quiet patience, the unspoken invitation to be honest, drew out far more than you intended.

You told them about Mark. About how complicated things had always been between you. How he had this way of making you feel—grounded and completely untethered at the same time. Being with him was like standing too close to the sun; it was thrilling, magnetic, and sometimes unbearably overwhelming. You confessed how much you cared about him, how he made you feel seen in a way that scared you.

But then came the harder part.

You explained why it hadn’t worked, why you’d walked away even though it had torn you apart. Mark deserved someone who wasn’t carrying the weight of unresolved fears and insecurities, someone who didn’t feel like they were constantly trying to catch up to his steadiness. You’d been so lost in your own mess, in your need to figure out who you were, that you couldn’t give him what he needed.

Irene leaned forward slightly, her voice soft but firm when she finally spoke. “Y/N, healing isn’t linear,” she said gently. “It’s not about waiting until you’re perfect before letting yourself be loved. You can still heal and work on yourself while allowing yourself to be in a happy, committed relationship. Those things don’t have to be separate.”

Her words settled in your chest like a gentle weight, grounding you even as they challenged the beliefs you’d clung to. You opened your mouth to argue, but she continued before you could.

“Mark doesn’t love you because he thinks you’re perfect,” Irene added, her tone unwavering. “He loves you because of who you are, even the parts you’re still working on. And I think it’s clear you feel something just as strong for him. Don’t let fear convince you that you have to do this alone.”

Seulgi nodded in agreement, her sharp eyes softening as she crossed her arms. “She’s right. You don’t have to wait until you’ve got it all figured out. If you and Mark make each other happy, then you deserve to hold onto that while you keep growing. Life’s too short to keep pushing happiness away because you think you don’t deserve it yet.”

“I’m scared to try again,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. “What if nothing’s changed? What if we fall back into the same patterns? What if I hurt him again?” You stared at the coffee cup in your hands, tracing its rim as you forced out the last thought. “What if I’m not enough for him?”

Seulgi leaned back in her chair, her smirk gone, replaced by something softer. Irene, on the other hand, leaned forward, her hands clasped gently in front of her.

“You’ve been through a lot,” Irene said finally, her voice steady and warm. “But if I can give you one piece of advice, it’s this: Don’t let fear hold you back. Mark loves you, Y/N. That much is clear to anyone who sees him around you. And I think you care about him more than you’re ready to admit.”

Her words landed like a punch, calm but unflinchingly honest. You tried to push them aside, but the certainty in her tone made it impossible to dismiss them.

Seulgi nodded in agreement, her sharpness softened by sincerity. “She’s right. Life’s too short for all this back-and-forth. If you care about him, if he makes you happy, stop making excuses. Go get your boy.”

Her words hung in the air, weighty and unshakable, but it was Irene who turned to you with a gaze that cut deeper. Her eyes searched yours with a quiet intensity, an understanding that left no room to hide. “I can see it in your eyes,” she said, her voice low but certain, pressing the moment forward.

You swallowed, the dryness in your throat making your voice falter. “See what?” you mumbled, the words barely audible, though they carried every ounce of your hesitation.

“You know what,” Irene murmured, her gaze unwavering.

“What?” Seulgi cut in, her confusion sharp and genuine. “What is she talking about?”

Irene didn’t look away from you, her words landing with quiet finality. “You love him. You just can’t admit it yet. But you feel it, deep inside.”

The truth of her words hit like a pulse, spreading from your chest outward, thick and undeniable. You gulped, the air around you feeling heavier, your body betraying the emotions you’d been trying to bury. Your heart thrummed painfully, its beat erratic, as though it was trying to speak the words you couldn’t. Your stomach twisted, an ache born of longing and fear, and your hands trembled slightly as you clenched them in your lap. Emotion swelled in your chest, raw and consuming, like you were standing on the edge of a precipice and falling all at once.

Your breath shuddered as the weight of it all—of him—settled in your chest. The way he looked at you, the sound of his laugh, the quiet moments where the world felt softer, smaller, when he was near. It wasn’t just affection. It wasn’t fleeting. It was all-consuming, a fire that burned steady and deep. You nodded, a single, deliberate motion, the truth breaking free even if your voice couldn’t yet.

Irene’s lips curved into a fond smile, her gaze softening as though she’d known all along. Seulgi, however, gasped audibly, her surprise genuine. “I never thought your feelings ran that deep,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.

“They do,” you murmured, and then, as if the words were too much, a single tear slipped from the corner of your eye. The intensity of it all threatened to overwhelm you. Your chest felt tight, as though your heart had outgrown the space it occupied. Love wasn’t light or gentle; it was heavy, its weight pressing against your ribccage, demanding to be acknowledged. Your skin tingled with the thought of him, your hands yearning for the familiar warmth of his. Love felt like everything and nothing all at once—a quiet storm that you could never quite tame.

“I’ve never been… in love before,” you confessed, your voice breaking under the weight of your admission. The silence that followed was palpable, the words hanging in the air like something fragile and sacred. “That’s why I’m like this,” you added softly, the rawness of the moment pressing against your chest.

Irene reached across the table, her hand brushing yours in a gesture so small yet grounding. “Love is beautiful,” she said, her tone gentle yet firm. “It’s not meant to be pushed away. It’s not something you control. It’s something you let in, let it take root, and watch it grow. It doesn’t have to be scary. Let it embrace you, Y/N. You deserve to feel it fully.”

The tenderness of her words settled in the room, but Seulgi stayed quiet, her lips pressed into a thin line. The irony wasn’t lost on her, though she didn’t dare break the calm atmosphere. You had been in a long-term relationship with her son—how could Mark be the first person you’ve fallen in love with? It made no sense to her, but the serenity in your expression, the weight of Irene’s words, made her hold her tongue.

Your shoulders relaxed slightly, and you leaned back, the heaviness inside you shifting—not disappearing, but no longer suffocating. “It feels so big,” you whispered, your voice fragile. “Like I’m going to break from it. But it doesn’t hurt… it’s just… overwhelming.”

“That’s love,” Irene said with a knowing smile. “It doesn’t fit neatly inside you. It stretches you, pulls you apart, and somehow makes you whole at the same time.”

You nodded again, your gaze dropping to your hands, which were still trembling slightly. “It scares me,” you admitted, barely above a whisper.

“It’s supposed to,” Irene reassured you. “That’s how you know it’s real.”

You swallowed hard, your gaze dropping to your lap. “But what about…” The thought of how messy everything had become made the words catch in your throat.

“I don’t give a fuck about anything or anyone else,” Irene cut in, her voice firmer now, the sharpness of her words startling you. You blinked, momentarily caught off guard—not just by the force behind her statement, but by the fact that she had said it. Irene, with her calm demeanor and measured tone, wasn’t someone you expected to curse so bluntly.

But the conviction in her voice left no room for misinterpretation. Her gaze was steady, unwavering as she continued. “You and my son deserve to be happy. That’s what matters. Not what anyone else thinks, not what could go wrong. Just you and Mark, figuring it out together.”

You hesitated, the words heavy on your tongue as you avoided her gaze. “I don’t know what to do,” you mumbled, your voice barely audible, the vulnerability in it making you feel exposed.

Irene leaned forward slightly, her hand resting gently on the table between you. “You start by being honest—with yourself first and then with him. Tell him what’s in your heart, Y/N,” she said softly. “It doesn’t have to be perfect, and it doesn’t have to make complete sense right now. Just let him know what you feel. He deserves that, and so do you.”

Her unexpected boldness only made her words hit harder, each syllable sinking deep into your chest. It wasn’t just reassurance—it was a declaration, one that made you feel like she believed in you even when you didn’t believe in yourself.

You glanced back at them, Irene’s soft smile and Seulgi’s playful yet sincere expression both carrying an unspoken confidence in you. It was hard not to smile, even as your thoughts swirled. There was no easy answer, no clear path forward. But for the first time, the fear didn’t feel insurmountable. It felt like something you could face. Something you wanted to face. You needed to tell Mark where your heart truly was, no matter how much it scared you.

You didn’t know how fast time had passed, but the glow of the sun now pouring through the windows told you it was midday. You were still here, seated in a booth with Irene and Seulgi, the three of you laughing like old friends as you shared stories and gossip. Somehow, despite the heaviness of the morning, they had made you so comfortable that you’d forgotten the time altogether.

“Y/N?” a voice behind you cut through your laughter, pulling your attention away mid-sentence. You turned in surprise, catching sight of Mark standing at the edge of the booth, his hair tousled and his expression a mix of confusion and amusement.

It was clear he’d just woken up, his hoodie rumpled, his sleepy gaze soft as he took in the sight of you sitting there with his mom and Seulgi.

“Oh… hi,” you mumbled awkwardly, your cheeks heating under his gaze. His brows furrowed slightly, his lips twitching like he was trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

“I thought you had assignments to do?” he asked, his voice low and groggy. “So what are you still doing here?”

Before you could respond, he stepped closer, his hand slipping into yours instinctively, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. He reached out with his other hand, gently running it through your hair in a way that made your breath hitch.

“You should’ve just come back to me,” he said softly, his tone carrying a desperation that tugged at something deep inside you. His voice was low, almost whiny, like he couldn’t understand why you weren’t still in his arms.

You swallowed back a smile, deflecting the intensity of his words with a joke. “I came here to see your mom and Jeno’s mom, not you,” you teased, your lips curving upward as you glanced back at Seulgi and Irene, who were both watching with thinly veiled amusement.

Mark rolled his eyes at your words but didn’t let go of your hand.

You already knew Seulgi well—Jeno’s mom had always been a vibrant and lively presence. Her blunt honesty was oddly comforting, the kind that cut through awkward silences and made you feel seen without pretense. She was sharp, quick-witted, and had a way of making even the most uncomfortable situations bearable. Her warmth was loud and unapologetic, filling every room she walked into. But Irene… Irene was something entirely different.

With Irene, there was a quiet intimacy that made you feel held in a way you hadn’t expected. Her kindness wasn’t flashy or overwhelming—it was subtle, the kind that seeped into the spaces you didn’t realize were empty. She listened like every word you said mattered, like she could hear what you weren’t saying just as clearly. It wasn’t just her words that comforted you; it was the way she looked at you, with an understanding that felt almost motherly. You weren’t someone who opened up easily, but with Irene, it felt effortless. She made you feel like you belonged, like she had already made room for you in her heart before you even knew it was there. It wasn’t just touching—it was transformative, and it scared you how quickly you’d come to care for her in return.

Mark’s lips quirked up slightly, his gaze soft as he studied you. You hadn’t said anything in minutes, just staring at him as your thoughts churned. He hummed, the sound low and questioning. “You okay?” he whispered, his eyes narrowing slightly with concern. His focus on you was unwavering, every inch of him tuned into the unspoken weight of the moment.

You gulped, the lump in your throat making it hard to form a response. His name slipped from his lips again, firmer this time, his tone urging you to say whatever it was that had your chest tightening.

Seulgi nudged you lightly from beside you, her touch subtle but steady. “Go on,” she whispered, her words barely audible but laced with encouragement.

Mark didn’t even glance at her, his attention fully on you. His eyes didn’t waver, his focus unshaken as he waited, his presence patient and grounding.

“I—I need to tell you something,” you stammered, your voice breaking slightly as your heart thudded in your chest. The words you wanted to say pressed against your lips, heavy and desperate, but fear kept them locked away.

Instead, you blurted, “You forgot your jacket at my place. I was going to bring it back today.”

Mark’s brow lifted slightly, and the faintest ghost of a smile crossed his lips, though his eyes stayed steady on yours. “That’s what’s been on your mind all this time?” he asked softly, his tone knowing, the question almost teasing but filled with quiet understanding.

You nodded quickly, looking away, your hands fidgeting in your lap. Mark lingered, his gaze fixed on you as though he were waiting for something more, something unspoken. His lips parted slightly, as if he might say something, but the moment stretched on without a word. Instead, he stood and moved away, settling himself on one of the counter chairs a short distance away. He faced your direction, though his attention shifted momentarily to his iced americano. The faint clink of the glass against the counter broke the silence, but his posture remained relaxed, one hand idly stirring the drink while his gaze found its way back to you, quiet and steady, catching every shift in your expression even when you tried to avoid looking his way.

You didn’t look back. Whether it was out of fear, hesitation, or simply because Irene’s voice had drawn your attention, you turned toward her as she started sharing a story. Her words carried a warmth that filled the room, her laughter bubbling over and catching Seulgi off guard, making her chuckle too. You smiled faintly, leaning in a little, your body unconsciously relaxing as the conversation shifted to something easier, lighter.

To him, it was everything. You, sitting across from his mom, your laughter weaving effortlessly into the conversation as though you’d always been a part of it. The way you leaned in when Irene spoke, your eyes bright with genuine interest, left him spellbound. It wasn’t just how seamlessly you fit into his world—it was how naturally you made it yours. A quiet warmth spread through his chest, settling deep, as he watched you. In that moment, nothing else mattered. You were here, with him, a part of his life in a way he never dared to imagine, and that was all he needed.

After a while, you forced yourself to check the time and sighed, the reminder of your looming college work breaking through the comfortable haze of the morning. As much as you wanted to stay, you knew you couldn’t avoid your responsibilities forever. With reluctance, you stood, gathering your things and preparing to leave.

Before you headed toward the door, your gaze instinctively flickered to Mark—and you froze. He was already looking at you, he was leaning against the counter—no, propped against it, his posture lazy yet purposeful. His elbows rested casually on the surface, his back pressing into the edge of the bar while his legs were spread wide, inviting you into the space between them with a look that sent a warm flush creeping up your neck. The sight of him, the way his dark eyes lingered on you with an intensity that made the world blur around you, was magnetic. His chest rose and fell evenly, but there was nothing calm about the way he watched you.You didn’t realize you were moving until your feet carried you across the room, and you found yourself standing between his knees. His hands immediately found your waist, tugging you closer until there was no space left between your bodies. You played with his hair absentmindedly, your fingers curling into the strands as you tried to steady your own pulse. His hold on you was firm, grounding, like he wanted to keep you tethered to him for just a little longer.

Your gaze dropped to his lips, then his jaw, drawn to the faint marks your mouth had left there last night, a reminder of how desperate you’d been for him. The sight of them sent a wave of heat pooling in your core, your fingers brushing over the stubble on his jaw as you cupped his face, tracing the evidence of your touch like you were claiming him all over again. His eyes darkened as your thumb grazed his skin, his lips parting slightly, and you could feel the tension crackling in the small space between you, charged with the memory of everything you’d done—and everything you still wanted.

It wasn’t just his touch or his proximity that affected you—it was the way he was looking at you. His eyes roamed your face, his expression soft but filled with something that made your chest ache. It wasn’t lust alone; it was deeper, more intimate, a connection that made you feel as though you were the only person in the world who mattered to him in that moment.

“You’re pretty,” he said, his voice quiet but sure, the corner of his mouth curving into the faintest of smiles. The way he looked at you when he said it made your breath catch—his eyes so focused, so unguarded, as if he was trying to memorize every detail of you.

You bit your lip, your breathing unsteady as his hands tightened on your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between your bodies. His fingers pressed firmly into your hips, grounding you, yet his touch was tender, like he was holding something he couldn’t bear to lose. His chest brushed against yours, his warmth seeping into you, and the scent of him filled every corner of your mind. Your hands found his shoulders, trembling slightly as you traced the muscle there, and when his eyes locked onto yours, everything stilled. His gaze was deep, unguarded, as though he was offering you something only you could understand. In his arms, with his eyes on you like that, the tension you’d been carrying dissolved into a quiet certainty, a stillness that anchored you in ways words never could.

You and my son deserve to be happy. Just you and Mark, figuring it out together. Irene’s words echoed in your mind, clear and steady, pulling you back into the moment. You could feel them, those unspoken truths you’d tried to bury, rising to the surface. Looking into his eyes now, the weight of them felt lighter, less terrifying. His thumb brushed against your side absentmindedly, his presence soft but unrelenting, and you knew. The fear, the uncertainty—they couldn’t outweigh the pull you felt toward him. The thread between you didn’t feel fragile anymore; it felt like something unbreakable, something waiting to be tied. And in his arms, with his gaze holding yours, you realized you were ready.

Your voice slipped out softer than you intended, the sweet nickname falling from your lips before you could stop it. “Baby.” It carried a neediness that caught you off guard, raw and unfiltered, but when Mark’s lips curved into the faintest smile, his eyes softening with something that felt like adoration, it made your heart lurch. His gaze locked onto you with an intensity that made everything else fade, and the air between you grew warmer, heavier.

He hummed low in his chest, the sound vibrating through the small space between you as he leaned closer. His breath brushed against your cheek, warm and steady, his presence wrapping around you like an embrace. His dark eyes roamed over your face, peeling back every layer of hesitation with an intimacy that left you bare. The way he looked at you, sharp and all-consuming, made your chest tighten and your knees weak. You knew he saw everything—the way your lips trembled, the way your body instinctively leaned into his. He always could.

“Can we talk? I need to tell you something,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, yet it carried the weight of everything you’d been holding back.

Mark tilted his head slightly, his fingers brushing against your sides in a deliberate, slow motion that sent warmth spiraling through you. His touch was firm but gentle, grounding you as his thumb traced small, soothing circles. “Yeah,” he murmured, his tone low and filled with curiosity, though his gaze stayed steady, unyielding. When your lips parted, a faint breath escaping, but no words followed, his hands tightened ever so slightly on your waist. He nudged you softly, his tone gentle yet steady, like an anchor keeping you from drifting too far. “Go ahead.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of his attention pressing against you, making your chest feel tight, your pulse hammering in your ears. “I—I… can we go to your room? I’ll feel better if I talk to you there,” you stammered, your voice trembling but laced with quiet determination, your eyes never leaving his.

The teasing comment you had braced yourself for didn’t come. Instead, Mark nodded again, his expression softening further as his brows furrowed slightly, concern flickering in his gaze. His grip on your waist didn’t falter, his thumb brushing slow, deliberate circles against your skin, soothing yet electrifying all at once. He tilted his head toward you, his voice steady and calm. “Okay, but why are you getting so stressed?”

His fingers flexed against your waist, his hold firm but not restrictive, as though he could feel the weight you were carrying. His touch, so steady, so present, sent a warmth spreading through your chest, unraveling the tightness inch by inch.

“I’m not,” you lied, your trembling hands betraying you as they curled tighter against his shoulders.

His thumb paused briefly before resuming its motion, this time slower, firmer, like he was trying to steady you. “You don’t need to be,” he murmured, his voice dropping lower, the words wrapping around you like a shield. “It’s just me, remember? Don’t want that pretty little head overthinking when you don’t need to. Especially not around me.”

The way he said it, quiet and intimate, sent heat blooming across your skin, pooling in your chest and spreading lower. His gaze was unwavering, filled with something heavy, raw, and unspoken. It wasn’t just the way he touched you—it was the way he looked at you, his eyes tracing every curve of your face like he was memorizing you, committing you to memory like this was a moment he never wanted to forget.

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” you mumbled, your voice shy, your gaze flickering away from his.

“Like what?” he asked, his tone low, teasing, though his hands didn’t loosen their grip on your waist.

“Like you’re fucking her with your eyes,” Mark’s best friend called out from behind the counter, her voice dry but tinged with amusement.

You didn’t flinch, your focus solely on Mark as you replied, “No… it’s something else,” your voice clipped, your expression unreadable.

Behind you, Mark’s best friend moved around the coffee station, her hands quick and efficient as she restocked cups and adjusted displays with practiced ease. Her silence, once indifferent, now carried an edge, her movements sharp and hurried as though trying to distract herself from something. You were too focused on Mark to notice the tension radiating off her, or the cracks forming in her carefully maintained composure.

Your gaze stayed locked on Mark, his hands firm on your waist, the steady brush of his thumbs against your sides grounding you. His touch was warm, deliberate, and when he leaned forward to press a soft kiss to your forehead, your breath caught, your pulse quickening. “Tell me, then,” he murmured, his voice low, inviting, the intimacy in his tone making your chest tighten.

“Take me to your room,” you mumbled, the words soft but carrying weight, your eyes flicking to the side briefly before meeting his again.

Mark tilted his head slightly, his grip on you steady as he asked, “Why can’t you just tell me here?” His voice was patient, but his brows furrowed slightly in concern as he searched your face for an answer.

You hesitated, your gaze darting toward Irene and Seulgi, who weren’t even trying to hide their curious stares from their corner of the room. Their presence made your skin prickle, the weight of their attention pressing on you like a barrier you couldn’t cross. You sighed softly and finally whispered, “I just… I want it to be private. Just us. It’s better that way.”

Mark’s gaze didn’t waver, his hands tightening slightly on your waist as if anchoring you. But before he could respond, your focus shifted, something catching your eye behind him. Your breath hitched, a soft gasp slipping from your lips as your eyes locked onto her.

“Are you okay?” you asked, your voice unsteady as you looked toward his best friend.

Mark followed your line of sight, his shoulders dropping slightly as he saw what you did—her silent tears slipping down her face, her posture slumped in defeat. She looked at the two of you not with jealousy but with something deeper, a sadness that seemed to come from a hollow ache within herself.

Mark didn’t hesitate, his hands slipping from your waist as he stepped toward her. The loss of his warmth lingered on your skin, a reminder of the closeness you’d just shared, now disrupted. You moved aside, the weight in your chest pressing down, not sharp but persistent, as though something small and hollow had begun to settle there.

At the counter, her trembling hands dropped to her sides as Mark reached out, his touch careful, deliberate. When he pulled her into a hug, she collapsed into him, her body folding into his like she didn’t have the strength to hold herself up anymore. His arms wrapped around her firmly, his voice low and soothing, though the words were inaudible to you.

You watched, unmoving, your chest tightening as his hand moved in slow circles on her back, his touch steady and familiar. There was no jealousy—at least, not the kind you expected—but a twinge of something unspoken rippled through you. It wasn’t about her. It wasn’t even about Mark. It was the image of him giving so much of himself to someone else in that moment, knowing you had been right there, waiting to open your heart to him.

The ache spread through you like an unwelcome visitor, quiet but persistent, tightening the space between your ribs. You weren’t jealous—there was no room for that. You knew Mark didn’t see her as anything but his best friend, his sister in all but blood, and that his heart belonged to you in ways he didn’t even have to say. But still, as you stood there watching him soothe her, the intimacy of the moment stirred something you couldn’t shake.

It wasn’t anger, and it wasn’t hurt—it was need. A desperate, quiet need for him, for his comfort, for the safety of his arms and the chance to say the words you’d been holding in. You needed him. But now, as his fingers traced steady circles on her back and his lips pressed softly to her forehead, the moment had slipped away. You shifted uncomfortably, your hands fidgeting at your sides, the pull in your chest twisting tighter. He was doing what he always did, offering his unwavering kindness, and yet it left you standing there, the moment slipping through your fingers like sand, leaving you cold in its absence.

“I thought you were gonna talk to Jeno at the party. You only came for him,” Mark whispered, his voice low but tinged with a quiet tension that made your breath hitch.

She shook her head, her voice trembling as she replied, “I did only come for him, but he spent the night fucking Karina instead.”

The shift in Mark was immediate. His jaw clenched so tightly you could see the muscle twitch beneath his skin, his hands balling into fists at his sides. His usual calm shattered in an instant, replaced by a look of pure fury that burned in his dark eyes. His nostrils flared as his chest heaved, his frustration radiating off him like a storm about to break. His lips pressed into a thin line, but the anger rippling through him was uncontainable, his entire body taut as if holding himself back from erupting.

You sighed, the weight of it all crashing into you. It made sense now—her tears, her broken expression—it was all because of Jeno. Whatever he’d done to her, it was reckless, thoughtless, and entirely like him to ruin something good. A flicker of anger rose in your chest, hot and unwelcome. Jeno, in his selfishness, had messed things up again, and now, his carelessness had disrupted everything.

That’s when both Mark and his best friend turned to you. Her eyes met yours first, brimming with a quiet sadness, apology etched into every glance. Mark followed, his shoulders sinking slightly as the realization hit him—you still had something to say, something you’d been holding onto, and he had let the moment slip away.

“It’s fine, Mark, we’ll talk later,” you whispered, offering him a small, reassuring smile despite the tightness in your chest. “I gotta head to campus anyways.”

He hesitated for a beat, his gaze softening as guilt flickered across his face. Then, he returned your smile, his lips curving faintly, though his eyes carried an unspoken promise. “I’ll find you later, yeah? I’m sorry,” he murmured, his tone low, sincere.

You nodded, your smile steady even as you turned away, the ache in your chest lingering, the words you couldn’t say still hanging heavy in the air.

──────────────────────────────

Mark never came that night.

You had been waiting for him, hoping he’d show up, but as the hours passed, it became clear—he wasn’t coming. You managed to get some work done on campus, forcing yourself to focus long enough to make progress, but your mind was a storm. Thoughts swirled incessantly: whatever the hell had happened between Jeno and Mark’s best friend, the heaviness in her voice as she spoke, the broken look in her eyes. Then there was what you felt for Mark, the way it had been pressing against your chest, aching to be said. And the words you overheard Chenle say at the party, lingering like an unwelcome whisper in your mind. It all tangled together, leaving you restless, unsettled.

As you packed up to leave campus, you couldn’t stop yourself from wanting to see Mark. The thought gnawed at you, the need to go to his apartment and just scream the truth to him, to let it all out without holding back. But your feet had other plans. They carried you away from where you intended to go, your body moving on instinct while your heart pulled you toward something else entirely. The weight in your chest guided you, seeking familiarity, seeking clarity.

By the time the sound of bouncing basketballs and faint laughter reached your ears, your steps slowed, and your breath hitched. You looked up and realized where you were—the river court. The place that had seen so many beginnings, so many truths. Maybe a part of you hoped, even foolishly, that Mark might be here, but he wasn’t. It didn’t stop you, though. Your feet carried you forward, onto the worn pavement, and you let out a quiet exhale, feeling the echo of memories press against you. The court had always felt like a place where things could be untangled, where clarity found you even when you weren’t ready for it. And tonight, it was pulling you back into its orbit.

The cracked concrete and faded paint, glowing under the midday sun like a worn-out sanctuary, came into view. It was empty of the person you most wanted to see—Mark—but not entirely empty. Donghyuck was sprawled lazily across the bleachers, twirling a basketball effortlessly on his fingertips, while Chenle stood at the center of the court, dribbling absently. Their easy banter evaporated the moment they noticed you approaching, their postures straightening as an uneasy quiet settled over the court.

Chenle’s eyes flickered to yours briefly before darting away, his shoulders stiffening as he pretended to focus on the ball in his hands. It stilled under his grip, and the silence became almost oppressive. “Mark’s not here,” he said quickly, his tone clipped and devoid of warmth, almost as if he’d rehearsed it.

You stopped just shy of the court’s edge, your gaze steady as you fixed it on him. “I’m not here for Mark,” you said, your voice clear and unwavering. “I’m here for you.”

Donghyuck’s head tilted slightly, his expression shifting from mild indifference to wary curiosity. He exchanged a glance with Chenle, who remained silent, before leaning forward on his knees, the ball spinning to a stop on the bench beside him. “Alright,” he said, folding his arms across his chest. “What’s this about?”

You inhaled deeply, steadying yourself. “I know what you think of me,” you began, your words cutting clean through the tension. “I overheard you. At the party. You don’t think I’m good enough for Mark. You don’t think I’m serious about him.”

Chenle’s gaze dropped to the ground, guilt flashing briefly across his face before he hardened his expression again. Donghyuck raised a brow, his posture straightening as if preparing for a fight, though he stayed silent, waiting for you to continue.

“I get it,” you said, your tone steady but tinged with vulnerability. “I’ve made mistakes. I know that. Things between Mark and me haven’t always been easy to understand, even for me. But you’re wrong about me.”

Donghyuck’s brow arched further, his expression unreadable, but you caught the faintest flicker of intrigue. Chenle shifted uncomfortably, but he didn’t interrupt.

“I am serious about him,” you pressed on, your voice growing stronger, more resolute with each word. “More serious than I’ve ever been about anything in my life. Mark isn’t just someone to me—he’s everything. And yeah, I’ve let him down before, but that’s not who I am anymore. I’ve spent so much time running from my feelings, trying to figure out what I want, and it’s him. It’s always been him.”

Chenle’s eyes lifted cautiously to meet yours, uncertainty softening the rigid lines of his face. He didn’t speak, but his silence felt less like rejection and more like quiet consideration.

“I’m not here to argue,” you added, your voice gentler now but no less firm. “I’m here to prove you wrong. To prove to you, to Mark, and to myself that I’m ready. That I deserve him. Because he’s mine, and I’m his. And I’m not letting him go.”

For a moment, the air was thick with unspoken tension. Donghyuck leaned back slightly, his gaze studying you like he was trying to gauge how much truth your words carried. Finally, he exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing as he spoke.

“I can’t say I didn’t doubt you,” he admitted, his voice quiet but honest. “Mark’s been through a lot. He deserves someone who’s all in. But…” His lips curved into a faint smirk, though it lacked its usual bite. “I believe you.” He glanced at Chenle, who hesitated but eventually nodded in agreement. “We believe you.”

Relief coursed through you, the weight you’d carried all morning easing slightly. But before you could respond, Donghyuck leaned forward, his tone sharpening. “Just don’t hurt him again, alright? Because if you do—”

“I won’t,” you cut in firmly, your gaze locking with his. “I won’t hurt him.”

Donghyuck leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his sharp gaze fixed on you. “You’re saying all the right things,” he said slowly, his tone skeptical. “But words are easy. What makes this time different?”

Chenle, still clutching the basketball, finally spoke up, his voice quieter but no less cutting. “Mark’s been through enough. We’ve seen him pick up the pieces too many times. What if you change your mind again?”

You swallowed hard, steadying yourself under their scrutiny. “I’m not going to,” you replied, meeting Chenle’s gaze head-on. “I know I’ve hurt him before, and I can’t take that back, but I’ve spent so much time trying to figure out what I want, who I am. And I know now—it’s Mark. It’s always been Mark.”

Donghyuck tilted his head, his lips pulling into a faint smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “So, you’re telling us you’ve suddenly got it all figured out? That you woke up one day and decided you’re ready to be the perfect girlfriend?”

“No,” you said firmly, your voice unwavering. “I’m not perfect, and I won’t pretend to be. But I’m ready to prove it—to him, to you, to everyone. I’m not running away this time.”

Chenle’s grip on the ball tightened, his jaw clenching briefly. “Mark doesn’t just need someone who cares,” he said, his tone hard but not unkind. “He needs someone who’s going to stick around when things get messy. Are you really ready for that?”

“Yes,” you said without hesitation, the conviction in your voice causing Donghyuck to raise a brow. “I’m ready for everything. For the good, the bad, the messy. I’m not going anywhere.”

Donghyuck let out a low whistle, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. “Gotta say, you’ve got some guts coming here and saying all this,” he remarked, his tone softening slightly. “But guts don’t mean shit if you don’t back it up.”

“And I will,” you replied, holding his gaze. “I know I have to earn your trust, but I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Chenle finally sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “We just don’t want to see him hurt again,” he said, his voice quieter now. “He deserves someone who’s all in.”

“And I am,” you promised, your voice steady. “I’m not going to hurt him again.”

Donghyuck studied you for a long moment before nodding, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Alright,” he said, his tone lighter now. “But if you mess this up…”

“I won’t,” you cut in quickly, a small smile breaking through. “I won’t mess this up.”

Chenle exchanged a glance with Donghyuck before giving you a small, reluctant nod. “We’re holding you to that,” he said simply.

“And if you break his heart again,” Donghyuck added, his smirk now fully formed, “you’ll have us to deal with.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, the tension finally lifting as you nodded. “Fair enough.”

Donghyuck nodded, satisfied, and Chenle relaxed visibly, though his guarded expression lingered. Without another word, you turned away, your steps lighter but your resolve even stronger. 

And as you turned to leave the court, the tension that had weighed on you all day seemed lighter, replaced by a new determination to prove—to them, to Mark, and to yourself—that you were all in. You were going to make things right, to make him yours again, yours forever.

──────────────────────────────

The campus had shed its ordinary skin, morphing into a realm brimming with life and purpose. Strings of lights crisscrossed between lampposts, their glow casting fragmented patterns across the walkways, illuminating the navy and gold banners strung high on every arch and railing. The sharp edges of buildings, usually so stoic, softened under the weight of decorations—streamers spiraled down columns, and hand-painted signs leaned precariously in windows, boasting messages like ‘Go Ravens!’ and ‘Bring It Home!’

The scent of fresh paint clung to the air, still sharp and metallic, evidence of the newly stenciled Ravens logo stamped onto every visible slab of concrete. The bold, sweeping insignias caught the light with a defiant gleam, demanding to be noticed, claimed as part of the night’s identity.

Food trucks lined the main quad like sentinels, their brightly colored exteriors clashing against the university’s muted stone buildings. Steam and smoke coiled lazily into the air, mingling with the unmistakable aroma of frying oil and caramelized sugar. The air carried a heaviness, rich with the promise of indulgence—popcorn drenched in butter, skewers of grilled meat, and the intoxicating warmth of spiced cider served in paper cups.

Students swarmed the pathways in navy sweatshirts and gold scarves, faces streaked with paint or glitter, laughter spilling out like static electricity. Even those not wearing school colors carried the fever of the evening in their strides. Sidewalk chalk messages sprawled across the ground, some inspirational, others haphazard, a few sharp-edged jabs at rival teams scrawled in smudged, hurried letters.

Beneath the strings of lights, clusters of people gathered—some to share snacks, others to exchange stories, their voices rising and falling like the notes of an untamed symphony. Beneath a large oak tree in the corner of the quad, a group of musicians played casually, the pluck of guitar strings and the soft hum of a violin weaving an unexpected intimacy through the larger chaos.

Farther out, the campus pathways stretched like veins into the quieter academic areas, but even here, the transformation had taken hold. The library steps were covered in students perched on the edges, sharing drinks and shouting into their phones. The dormitories glowed faintly in the distance, their windows lined with string lights and silhouettes of people leaning out to call to friends below.

It was as if the campus itself had awakened, each brick and blade of grass charged with the electric promise of something monumental. The night had made it its own, a canvas for chaos and celebration, stitched together by the navy and gold that painted the scene.

The state championship wasn’t just about a trophy—it was legacy, redemption, proof of belonging. For students, alumni, and everyone who called this place home, it was a collective heartbeat, a shared hope that tonight would cement the Ravens in glory. It was a night charged with the weight of what could be won—and what could be lost.

You walked arm in arm with Karina, the two of you cutting through the crowd in matching cheer uniforms that shimmered under the lamplight. The navy fabric hugged your bodies perfectly, the gold accents catching the light with every step. Your shoes squeaked slightly on the pavement, the rhythm of your strides syncing as you moved toward the stadium. The tightness of your ponytail tugged at your scalp, but the adrenaline buzzing in your veins drowned out the discomfort.

Your heart was pounding, not just from the infectious energy around you, but from something deeper—something more personal. Excitement mingled with nerves, the weight of the night pressing lightly on your chest. You couldn’t help but glance at Karina, who was grinning ear to ear, her confidence radiant and unwavering. You envied her ease, but at the same time, it grounded you. You took a deep breath, the cold air stinging your lungs as you allowed the atmosphere to settle over you. This was it—the moment you’d been waiting for. The day that could change everything.

Tonight would be the night to make Mark yours again.

“This is it,” you murmured, more to yourself than to Karina, as your gaze swept over the grandness of it all. The sheer scale of the event was staggering—the towering posters of the team draped over every visible surface, the rows of merch stands glowing under string lights, and the distant roar of fans already settling into the gymnasium. Everything about tonight screamed monumental, and yet, the weight pressing on your chest wasn’t from the game. “I’m gonna tell Mark tonight.”

Karina looped her arm through yours, her grin wide and far too knowing. “I hope so,” she teased, giving you a playful nudge. “You’ve been trying to tell him for the last week now. I swear, it’s starting to sound like a broken record.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t hold back the small smile tugging at your lips. “It’s not that simple, okay? Every time I try to tell him, something happens. Like, the universe doesn’t want me to have this conversation.”

Karina snorted, her tone dry but affectionate. “Yeah, yeah. Blame the universe.”

You let out a frustrated breath, your voice softening as the words came tumbling out. “I’ve missed him so much, Karina,” you admitted, the vulnerability threading through your tone catching even you off guard. “I don’t even know how I let it get this far. It’s like—I can’t stop thinking about him. About us. I miss everything, you know? The way he’d look at me, like I was the only thing in the world that mattered. The stupid things he’d say to make me laugh when I was upset. The way he held me, like he couldn’t imagine letting go. God, I just—I want that back. I want him back.”

Karina gave you a pointed look, raising a brow. “No offense, but haven’t you guys still been like that? You’ve literally had sex since the breakup, and you still act like you’re a couple half the time.”

You shook your head, the denial immediate and heavy. “No, Karina, it’s not the same. It feels different,” you said, your voice cracking slightly as you tried to put it into words. “It’s like… he’s holding back. He’s still there, but not really. When we were together, everything about him was so—present. Like, when he touched me, when he looked at me, I could feel how much he loved me, how much he wanted me. Now…” You paused, your throat tightening as you tried to swallow down the rising ache. “Now it’s like he’s waiting. Like he’s giving me all this patience because he thinks I need time, but I can feel him slipping further away. Like he’s pulling back just enough to protect himself.”

Karina’s expression softened, the teasing glint in her eyes replaced with quiet understanding. But you weren’t finished. The words kept spilling out, raw and desperate. “I know he’s trying to be patient, to give me space to figure myself out, but how long can someone keep waiting? How long before he just decides it’s not worth it anymore? He’s not going to wait forever, Karina. And the more I hold back, the more I feel like I’m losing him. Like he’s… just a little further out of reach every day.”

Your hands clenched at your sides, the weight of your own fear pressing down on you. “I don’t want to wake up one day and realize he’s gone for good. That he’s done waiting and moved on, because I’ll never forgive myself if that happens. I can’t let that happen. I won’t.”

Karina’s teasing faltered, her gaze softening for a fraction of a second before it hardened into something sharper. “Babe,” she said, her voice cutting through the air with brutal clarity. “You do know that you let it get this far, right?” You flinched, the honesty landing like a punch to the gut. But you didn’t stop her. You couldn’t, not when she was saying the thing you’d been too afraid to admit to yourself. “You’ve been overthinking every little thing,” she continued, her tone matter-of-fact but far from cruel. “Torturing yourself for months, turning it into this massive, impossible thing in your head. You’re so scared of screwing it up that you’ve already been doing it, babe. You’re making it complicated when it doesn’t have to be.”

Her words hit harder than you expected, the truth of them sinking in like stones at the bottom of a lake. You wanted to argue, to push back, but there was nothing to say. She wasn’t wrong.

Karina shrugged, her tone lightening even as she glanced sideways at you, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “But hey, as long as you’re ready to beg for forgiveness and jump his bones, I’m here for it. Just say the word, and I’ll give you a pep talk so good, it’ll knock him flat.”

“Karina!” you hissed, whipping your head toward her as heat rushed to your face. Scandalized, but not nearly as convincing as you hoped, your voice wavered with a mix of shock and something dangerously close to intrigue.

But Karina wasn’t done—not even close. She leaned in, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, her grin mischievous. “No, seriously. Surprise him. Wear something hot. Walk right up to him and tell him exactly how much you’ve missed his hands on you, his mouth on you, him. I swear, he’d lose it before you even finished the sentence.”

Your stomach flipped violently, and you shook your head as if to rid yourself of the vivid picture her words painted. “God, I can’t believe you,” you muttered, though the flush creeping up your neck betrayed you. “This isn’t just about that. I need him to know how I feel. That I’m ready now. To fix this. To fix us. I’ve already wasted so much time, Karina. I can’t lose him, too.”

For once, she didn’t laugh. Her smirk softened into something quieter, more deliberate, as she tugged you closer, syncing your strides without missing a beat. “And you won’t. But babe,” she added, her grin curling back with razor-sharp precision, “telling him how you feel is step one. Step two? Make him feel it. Make him remember why it’s always been you. That’s how you lock it in.”

You groaned, covering your face with one hand, but you couldn’t hide the reluctant smile tugging at your lips. Karina’s laugh rang out, loud and unapologetic, as if she thrived on watching you squirm. It was maddening, but beneath the teasing was something steady, something you desperately needed: belief. She believed in you, in Mark, in everything the two of you could still be.

And though her words made your cheeks burn, they sparked something else too—a fire deep in your chest. This wasn’t just about undoing the past or fixing what had gone wrong. It was about Mark. About showing him what he meant to you, what he’d always meant to you, even when you were too scared to admit it.

“And what about you?” you asked suddenly, shifting your focus to her. “How’s it going with Jeno?”

Karina sighed, her usual confidence dimming just slightly as she shrugged. “It’s not really going,” she admitted, a faint twinge of sadness creeping into her voice. “It’s just sex.”

You blinked, the answer catching you off guard. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

She huffed, shaking her head, a bitter laugh slipping past her lips. “I thought so, but he’s such a fucking whore. He’s been going around, fucking half the campus, you know? And I swear—” She paused, her tone sharpening. “I swear he was head over heels for Mark’s best friend. Like, obsessed with her.”

You sighed, the weight of her words heavy in the air. “He fucked that up,” you muttered under your breath.

Karina nodded, her gaze flickering away for a moment, but before the silence could stretch too long, she turned back to you, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Enough about him. Tonight isn’t about Jeno or anyone else. It’s about you and Mark. You’ve got one shot, and you’re not going to waste it.”

Your voice softened, trembling just slightly as the weight of everything you’d planned pressed down on you. “It has to go right today,” you murmured, more to yourself than to her. “I’ve planned it all out. If it doesn’t… I don’t know what I’ll do.”

Karina’s teasing faltered, and for a moment, her expression shifted, her gaze steady and reassuring. “Hey,” she said softly, nudging you with her shoulder. “It’s going to be fine. You’ve got this.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat, but the words kept spilling out, your tone quiet but determined. “I’ve even decorated my room for us. I lit candles, there’s music ready to be played. I put flower petals on the bed. I even got the silk sheets out.” You hesitated, your cheeks heating again. “And my silk pajamas… and I ordered the sexiest lingerie the other day. I don’t want that to go to waste.”

Karina froze for a beat before bursting into laughter, her hand flying to her chest as she doubled over. “Oh my God,” she managed between gasps, her voice shaking with disbelief. “You’re serious. You’re actually serious. Candles? Flower petals? Silk sheets? Babe, you are so gone for him, it’s embarrassing.”

You rolled your eyes, but the corner of your mouth twitched despite yourself. “I just want it to be perfect,” you muttered. “I just wanna make him proud of me”

Karina wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, her laughter softening into something fond as she wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “You’re unbelievable. But honestly? I think he’s gonna lose his mind. You’re trying so hard, and it’s adorable. He won’t stand a chance.”

You nod, hoping all of your effort won’t go to waste tonight. It wasn’t just a confession. It was a vow, a chance to rebuild something real. Something worth fighting for. Something you weren’t willing to let slip away—not again.

Inside, the gym had become a roaring coliseum, the Seoul Center Arena pulsating with an energy so electric it felt like the walls themselves might give way. Every one of the 10,000 seats was filled, bodies packed shoulder to shoulder, their collective voices rising in a deafening crescendo. The court gleamed under the relentless glare of the spotlights, its freshly polished surface reflecting the vibrant team banners hanging high above. The scoreboard loomed ominously, a stark reminder of the stakes, its bold digits ready to etch history into the night.

On one side of the court, the Ravens cheerleaders stood in formation, their uniforms shimmering in navy and gold, the perfect blend of athleticism and glamour as they readied for their routines. Among them, Donghyuck was impossible to miss—a magnetic whirlwind of energy with a megaphone in one hand and a pompom in the other. His voice boomed through the speakers, every word dripping with wit and showmanship, commanding the crowd’s attention like only he could.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!” Donghyuck’s voice thundered through the arena as he strode dramatically along the sideline, his pompom waving like a general’s banner. “Welcome to what might be the biggest day in the history of Seoul Ravens basketball!” He paused, throwing his arms wide as the crowd erupted in cheers. “10,000 fans have crammed into the Seoul Center Arena tonight to watch the Ravens take on the top-ranked Busan Titans for the state championship. The air is electric, the stakes couldn’t be higher, and I’m almost certain someone just spilled nacho cheese on their date. This is history in the making, folks!”

He pivoted, his expression suddenly more serious as his voice lowered just enough to hold the room. “But tonight isn’t just about the players. Oh no. This is the night to change the trajectory of Coach Suh’s coaching career forever. For those of you who don’t know, back in 2002, Coach Suh’s own Ravens team lost to the Busan Titans—” He let the name hang in the air, the crowd hissing in collective disdain. “—and tonight is his shot at redemption. While he’s not fully back in the coaching saddle, he’s been working behind the scenes, overlooking every play, every strategy. This isn’t just a game—it’s a reckoning.”

The gym erupted again, the crowd feeding off Donghyuck’s unrelenting charisma, their cheers vibrating through the floor.

Somehow, word had already spread about your plans to reconcile with Mark. The cheerleaders, ever the keepers of campus gossip, had wasted no time closing in, their faces alight with curiosity and excitement as Karina peeled off to grab drinks.

“So it’s true,” Nagyung said, ponytail bouncing as she grabbed your arm and pulled you into the circle. Her grin was wide and uncontainable, practically brimming with glee. “You’re really doing it, huh? Finally going after Mark?”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard by her enthusiasm. “I… I hope to,” you replied hesitantly, your voice barely above the roar of the arena.

Nagyung waved a hand, dismissing your doubt as though it was laughable. “Oh, please. It’s happening. We all know it.”

Chaeyoung leaned in, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “You should’ve seen the way he looked at you after practice the other day. It was like… like you were the only person in the room.”

“Totally,” Seoyeon chimed in, nodding so emphatically her ponytail swayed. “I’ve been saying it forever—you two are meant to be. Everyone sees it.”

The sheer confidence in their words made your chest tighten, warmth spreading through you even as your cheeks flushed under their attention. “Thanks,” you mumbled, ducking your head shyly.

“It’s not just us,” Seoyeon added, her voice dipping into a conspiratorial whisper. “Literally everyone who matters wants you two together. You guys just make sense.”

Their words settled over you like a heavy, reassuring blanket, equal parts comforting and overwhelming. It felt like the entire campus was rooting for you and Mark to figure things out, to take what was broken and turn it into something whole again.

You didn’t want to let them down. But more than that, you didn’t want to let him down.

Winter, who had been quiet until now, leaned in and spoke softly, her voice cutting through the noise like a thread of calm. “They’re right,” she said, her words simple but charged with certainty.

You glanced at her, surprised by her rare seriousness, and managed a faint smile in return. But she wasn’t done. “Is Mark even playing tonight? I heard about his heart condition,” she added, her brow furrowing slightly.

You nodded, the weight of her question settling heavily in your stomach. “He won’t be playing the entire game,” you admitted, your voice tinged with a mixture of pride and worry. “Only 15 minutes per half. Coach is being really strict about it.”

Karina rejoined the group, handing Winter a drink before chiming in with her usual bluntness. “He’s in the locker rooms right now, right? You should just go tell him now. It’ll give him a boost for the game, and you won’t spend the rest of the night stressing out. I know what you’re like, you’ll probably mess up the routine.” 

Winter snorted, her smirk returning as she took a sip of her drink. “And you should suck his cock while you’re at it. Good luck charm for the game, you know?”

You gasped, your cheeks flaming, but the suggestion stuck, a wicked little idea planting itself in your mind. The tension in your chest shifted, and before you could overthink it, you nodded, exhaling deeply. “I’m gonna go find him,” you said, determination sharpening your voice as your sneakers already started leading you toward the locker rooms.

But as you crossed the court, a ripple of movement caught your eye. The Ravens were filing out of the tunnel, their arrival greeted by deafening cheers that filled the gym. You stopped dead, narrowing your eyes as you glanced at the clock. The game hadn’t started yet, but their appearance meant you’d lost your chance to talk to Mark in private.

Your eyes scanned the players instinctively, and then you saw him. Mark.

He was breathtaking. His jersey clung to his broad shoulders and chest, the snug fabric perfectly outlining his athletic frame. His hair was damp, tousled just enough to give him an effortlessly rugged look, and the sharp cut of his jaw was accentuated by the way he pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek, his focus locked on the court. Every movement was deliberate, every step slow and commanding, as if the room bent to him without him even trying.

Then, as if he could feel your gaze, his eyes locked onto yours. The air caught in your lungs, the noise of the gym fading into nothing. The intensity in his stare was magnetic, searing, and intimate in a way that made your pulse quicken. His lips twitched into a small, knowing smile, and without hesitation, he veered off course, heading straight for you.

The closer he got, the harder it was to breathe. His presence was overwhelming, his gaze holding you captive as he stopped in front of you.

“Hi, pretty,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing as his hand came up to cup your face. His thumb brushed over your cheek, the touch featherlight but grounding. His eyes lingered on yours, roaming over your features as if committing every detail to memory. When he bit his lip, catching the plush skin between his teeth, the heat pooling in your core became impossible to ignore.

“I haven’t forgotten about what you’ve been wanting to tell me, hm?” he continued, his tone soft but charged, his words laced with both reassurance and a subtle promise. He knew. He’d known for weeks, maybe even longer, that you’d been carrying something too heavy to put into words. “I’ll come find you after the game. I’m all yours for the night.”

Your throat tightened, and you shook your head, your voice stronger than you expected when you said, “No, I need to tell you now.”

Mark blinked, holding back a small laugh, his eyes searching yours with curiosity. “Okay,” he said, his tone gentle but tinged with amusement.

When you didn’t say anything immediately, his brow arched. “Y/N… are you actually going to tell me this time? Or should I just check my calendar for another day? You know, I do have a state championship to win.”

You huffed, but your stomach flipped at the teasing glint in his eyes. Winter’s earlier words—‘And you should suck his cock, good luck charm for the game, you know?’—echoed in your head, shameless and impossible to ignore. The thought of pulling him into the back, of doing exactly that, sent a rush of heat through you, your pulse quickening as your resolve hardened.

You leaned closer, your voice barely above a whisper, your lips just shy of his ear. “Can we go to the back?”

Mark’s teasing demeanor softened instantly, his hand reaching for yours without hesitation. “Yeah, let’s—” he started, but his words cut off as his gaze shifted over your shoulder, locking onto someone behind you.

Mark’s entire body locked up, his shoulders drawing taut, every muscle in his frame coiled like a spring ready to snap. His jaw clenched so hard you swore you heard his teeth grind, and his hand slipped from yours with a suddenness that sent a jolt of unease racing through you. His gaze, warm and soft only moments ago, turned razor-sharp, slicing past you like you weren’t even there.

“Hey, Jeno,” he barked, his tone low and biting, carrying enough weight to cut through the roaring gym.

You turned just in time to see Jeno entering the gym, his stride measured, his face unreadable but steady. He hadn’t walked out with the team, and something about his lone arrival made your stomach tighten. The shift in Mark’s demeanor was stark and dizzying, the tension radiating off him so palpable it felt like it could snap the air in two.

Before you could process what was happening, Mark moved. He stormed toward Jeno, each step deliberate, his fists clenching at his sides as if sheer willpower was the only thing holding him back. “Hey, Jeno!” Mark’s voice rang out again, louder this time, its unrelenting edge cutting through the crowd’s noise like a blade.

Jeno’s head turned, his expression guarded but calm, though his steps faltered slightly as he registered Mark’s approach. But Mark wasn’t stopping—his movements were fluid, his anger pouring into every stride. Then, without warning, the sharp crack of Mark’s fist connecting with Jeno’s jaw echoed through the gym, a sound so sudden and violent it seemed to suck the air from the room.

You gasped, your hands flying to your mouth as Jeno staggered back, clutching his face. The girls around you mirrored your shock, their whispers cutting off abruptly as the gym fell into stunned silence. The crowd turned as one, a ripple of movement spreading through the stands as every head swiveled to see what had just happened. Even the cheer girls on the Ravens team froze mid-laughter on the bench, their expressions shifting from confusion to alarm as the tension on the court became undeniable.

From the announcer’s booth, Donghyuck’s voice broke the stillness, his tone laced with exaggerated disbelief and a hint of glee. “Ladies and gentlemen, in case you missed it, Mark Lee just delivered a right hook straight out of a boxing match to none other than Jeno Lee! We interrupt this basketball game for what appears to be some serious family drama on the court. Stay tuned, folks—this might get even messier!”

Mark barely registered the narration, his entire body taut and vibrating with anger, his fists clenched at his sides. Jeno straightened, his jaw tightening as he brushed his knuckles across his face, his eyes dark and blazing as they locked onto Mark.

Jeno recovered quickly, his chest heaving as he straightened, his eyes narrowing into a dangerous glare. “What the fuck is your problem?” he growled, his voice low and taut with barely contained fury. He shoved Mark back, hard enough to make him stumble.

Mark caught himself, his sneakers skidding slightly against the polished floor, but the fury in his eyes didn’t waver for a second. “You. You’re a fucking idiot,” he spat, his voice venomous, loud enough for everyone around to hear.

Jeno’s face twisted, his jaw tightening as his own anger bubbled to the surface. “I’m the idiot?” he snapped, his voice rising. “You’re the one swinging fists like a fucking child!”

Mark’s lip curled, his glare unrelenting. “You ruined everything,” he hissed, each word seething with a rage so raw it made your chest tighten. “With her, with me—everything. You haven’t changed since that night on the river court all those months ago, and you never will. She was my best friend, Jeno—someone who trusted you, who cared about you, and you fucking destroyed that. What you did to her was unforgivable.” 

Jeno’s laugh cut through the tension like a whip, sharp and cold, his head tilting back slightly as he cackled. The sound was unnerving, like he’d snapped, and when he looked at Mark again, his eyes were blazing with something equally as dangerous. “Oh? What I did?” he said, his tone dripping with derision. “Is that what she told you? Fucking ridiculous.”

“Shut up—” Mark’s voice cracked with the sheer force of his anger, but Jeno didn’t flinch.

“She broke my fucking heart, Mark!” Jeno interrupted, his voice trembling as it rose, cutting through the gym like a shout in a cavern. “Not the other way around. You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

Mark faltered for a moment, his eyes narrowing as confusion seeped into his expression. “Jeno—”

“No,” Jeno bit out, his chest rising and falling as he struggled to steady his breath. “You don’t get to lecture me about her. I know what I lacked—I fucking know. But I didn’t care. I wanted her. I wanted to give her everything—all of me.” His voice cracked on the last word, and for a moment, the anger in his expression wavered, replaced with something far more vulnerable. “I was ready to be her boyfriend, to be the man she needed, but she—” He broke off, inhaling sharply as if the words physically hurt him.

He dragged a hand through his hair, his frustration mounting. “I fucking told her I loved her,” he said, his voice quieter now, each word a dagger sinking deeper into the air between them. “And she left. So don’t you dare stand there and act like you know. Don’t act like you fucking understand.”

Mark froze, the words hitting him like a physical blow. “I…” he started, his voice uncharacteristically soft, but Jeno didn’t let him finish.

“Do you know how hard it is for me to love someone?” Jeno’s voice cracked again, and he took a step forward, his jaw tight, his fists clenching at his sides. “To let them in? To actually try?” He paused, his chest heaving as if the effort of holding himself together was too much. His eyes darted to you briefly, but he looked away just as fast, his voice dropping to a broken whisper. “I… I wanted her in my life. I was ready for her.”

He trailed off, his mouth opening like he wanted to say more, but then he shook his head violently, his expression hardening once again. “Doesn’t even fucking matter now, does it?” he muttered, his tone hollow as he turned away, leaving his words—and the room—heavy with an unbearable weight.

You hesitated, the tension in the air making it hard to breathe, but as you moved closer to the two of them, your gaze landed on Jeno’s face—and that’s when you saw it. Beneath the hard lines of his jaw and the anger radiating off him, his eyes were filled with something else entirely. Sadness, raw and unrelenting, clung to him like a shadow. It wasn’t just heartbreak—it was loss, a kind of loneliness that seemed to consume him. Every forced laugh, every drunken hookup, every reckless choice was written in his expression now, no longer masked by his usual bravado. It was all there: the desperation to feel fine, to feel anything, and the crushing realization that nothing—not sex, not drugs, not distractions—was enough to numb the pain. He wasn’t angry; he was shattered.

You gulped, your throat tightening as you took it all in.

Jeno exhaled shakily, running a hand through his hair as he avoided looking at either of you. “You know,” he started, his voice softer now, the edges rough but quieter, “I’ve never… I’ve never really loved anyone before. Not until her.” His eyes flickered briefly toward Mark before darting away again. “And the one time I do, the one time I let myself feel something real… she fucking leaves. Like it didn’t even matter.”

The weight of his confession hit the room like a blow, sucking all the air out of it. Mark’s reaction was immediate but silent—his body stiffened, his expression shifting in an instant. His wide eyes darted between you and Jeno, his brows furrowing slightly, as if trying to piece together a puzzle that had suddenly grown more complicated. The shock in his face was raw and unguarded, a stark contrast to his usual composed exterior.

He hadn’t known.

It was written in the tension of his jaw, the faint crease in his brow. He hadn’t known that his best friend hadn’t told him everything. That she had lied, keeping this part of her history from him. That she had omitted the truth about Jeno, about their relationship, and about how deeply tangled it had all been.

The charged air grew heavier, the weight of his confession pulling everything into silence. It wasn’t the time to speak, and you knew that, but the tension was unbearable, and the words slipped out of your mouth before you could stop them. “You know I’m right here,” you mumbled, your voice soft but pointed, cutting through the suffocating atmosphere like a flicker of light.

Jeno’s head snapped toward you, his brows knitting together in surprise, as if the reminder of your presence jarred him from his spiral. Mark’s attention turned to you as well, his confusion evident, but your focus was on Jeno.

“As your ex-girlfriend,” you continued, your tone somewhere between teasing and exasperated, “I feel like I should be a little offended right now. You just said you’ve never loved anyone before—hello? What does that make me?”

Jeno turned to you slowly, his brows furrowed, his lips parting in disbelief. “You stop it,” he snapped, his tone sharp but not entirely unkind. “You literally told my mum that Mark is the first person you’ve ever—” He stopped mid-sentence, his words halting as his eyes caught the confusion clouding Mark’s face and the silent, pleading look you shot him. Shut up. Shut up!!!

Jeno clamped his mouth shut immediately, his jaw locking as he shifted his gaze away. His hand curled into a fist at his side, and for a second, you thought he might say something else, but instead, he exhaled deeply, shaking his head as though trying to push the moment away.

Mark turned to you then, his expression sharp with confusion, his eyes narrowing slightly. “What?” he whispered, the single word heavy with disbelief and suspicion.

Your eyes froze on his, your breath faltering as a wave of panic coursed through you. Every nerve in your body screamed for an escape, and before you could stop yourself, a strained, too-loud voice burst from your lips.

“Guys! Stop fighting!” you shouted, the words coming out rushed and uneven, a blatant attempt to break the tension and redirect Mark’s focus. “It’s not good for the team.”

Mark’s attention lingered on you for a second longer, his brow furrowing as if he wasn’t entirely buying it. The weight of his stare made your chest tighten, but you forced yourself to keep going, your tone firm though your voice trembled enough to betray how much this was affecting you.

“Stop it,” you said again, this time quieter but more resolute. “Please. Not today. This game is too important for this.”

Mark rolled his eyes dramatically, his lips twisting into a sarcastic smirk. “Well, we’ve stopped fighting, so you don’t have to say anything,” he muttered, his tone dripping with sass as he turned on his heel and started walking away, not even waiting for your response.

You blinked, stunned into silence, watching him retreat with a mix of frustration and exasperation bubbling in your chest.

Jeno huffed beside you, his jaw still tight, but he didn’t argue further. With a sharp exhale, he followed Mark’s lead, his steps brisk and heavy as he disappeared in the same direction. You stood there, your heart pounding, left to gather the pieces of a tension-filled moment that you weren’t sure how to fix.

Your shoulders sank as you trudged back to the girls, their eyes wide with curiosity, the unspoken questions hanging thick in the air. They were staring at you like they’d just witnessed the prelude to some unspeakable drama—which, to be fair, they had.

“I couldn’t tell him,” you admitted, your voice low and weighed down with regret. “He was fighting with Jeno.”

Karina opened her mouth, undoubtedly ready to pry further, but before you could elaborate or the others could bombard you with questions, the gym lights dimmed slightly, and the buzzer sounded. The game was about to begin.

The shift in atmosphere was immediate, the gym coming alive with the roar of the crowd. The Ravens cheerleaders took their places, pom-poms shimmering under the harsh lights as they began their chants, trying to inject some energy into the building. The players jogged onto the court, their sneakers squeaking against the polished wood floor. The starting lineup huddled briefly, Mark standing at the center, his head bowed as he barked instructions. But even from where you sat, you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw clenched as he tried to rally the team.

You blinked, confused. This wasn’t Mark’s job—it was Jeno’s. As captain, Jeno was always the one to lead the huddle, to set the tone for the team, yet tonight he stood off to the side, arms crossed and head bowed like he wanted to disappear. In his absence, Mark took charge, his voice sharp and commanding, cutting through the noise as he rallied the players. Even from where you sat, the tension in Mark’s shoulders and the tight set of his jaw were impossible to miss. It was unsettling, watching Jeno—typically the heart of the team—withdraw into himself while Mark filled a role that didn’t belong to him. The team looked fractured, like a machine trying to function with its gears misaligned, and the unease settled in your chest like a heavy weight. As the huddle broke and the players took their positions, you couldn’t shake the sense that this was only the beginning of their unraveling.

When the whistle blew, the game started with a flash of movement, the ball flying into the air for the tip-off. The energy was electric, but it took less than five minutes for the crowd’s excitement to sour.

The Ravens were unraveling.

Their usual crisp passes and seamless transitions had been replaced by frantic, disjointed attempts to salvage the ball. Plays broke down before they even began, and every missed shot sent ripples of unease through the packed arena.

Jeno, typically the anchor of the team, was a shadow of himself. He fumbled passes he would’ve handled effortlessly on any other night, hesitated on drives, and forced risky plays that ended in turnovers. The fire and focus he usually brought to the court were gone, replaced by frustration that radiated off him in waves.

Mark and Chenle exchanged a look after one glaring misstep—a wild pivot from Jeno that resulted in the ball bouncing out of bounds. It was an unspoken agreement: they couldn’t rely on him tonight. Mark stopped looking Jeno’s way altogether, funneling the ball to Chenle instead, who did his best to create opportunities out of nothing.

But even their combined efforts couldn’t mask the cracks in the team’s foundation. Missed rebounds, miscommunications, and a defense that couldn’t seem to hold its shape—they were falling apart. The tension from the locker room had followed them onto the court, infecting every movement, every decision.

“Not the start we were hoping for, folks,” Donghyuck’s voice rang out through the speakers, noticeably lacking his usual charisma. “Our boys are trailing hard against the Titans, and it’s not looking good. Jeno, buddy, I love you, but maybe stop dribbling like my grandma?”

The crowd offered a smattering of nervous laughter, but it was short-lived, quickly swallowed by restless murmurs as the Titans continued to dominate. Donghyuck’s voice returned, more serious this time, the weight of the moment pressing into his usually lighthearted tone. “And it looks like there’s more bad news for the Ravens. Their one shining light of hope tonight—Mark Lee—is being subbed off as his first 15 minutes of the half are up.”

The announcement drew a mix of groans and scattered applause from the crowd, but all eyes were on Mark as he made his way to the bench. His shoulders were tight with tension, and the frustration was clear in the way he tossed his towel onto the seat with a huff. He didn’t say a word as he sank down, but the sharp set of his jaw and the way he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, spoke volumes. He wasn’t happy with the decision, and it showed.

Donghyuck’s commentary continued, trying to salvage some optimism. “Alright, folks, let’s see what the rest of the team can pull together in Mark’s absence. This is where grit comes in—come on, Ravens, let’s get it together!”

But the crowd’s energy had already begun to wane, the hope they’d clung to in the first quarter fading fast as the Ravens continued to struggle. Mark’s absence only seemed to deepen the sense of unease that hung over the arena like a storm cloud.

In stark contrast, the Titans were clinical. Their passes were razor-sharp, their shots clean and precise, and their defense suffocating. They capitalized on every Raven mistake, widening the gap on the scoreboard with ruthless efficiency.

By the end of the first quarter, the Ravens were down by double digits, their energy visibly deflated.

From your seat, your eyes tracked Jeno. He glanced toward the stands, his gaze landing on Eric and Sunwoo near the back. Their expressions were unreadable, but something about the way Jeno stiffened made your stomach churn. Whatever he was dealing with, it wasn’t just the game.

The second quarter was no better. Jeno’s frustration boiled over in a moment of weakness—a bad call from the referee led to him slamming the ball against the court, earning a stern warning. Chenle kept to his rhythm, icing Jeno out as the Titans smelled blood and pressed harder. Although it was harder for him to do so without Mark. 

“Come on, Ravens!” Donghyuck’s voice cracked with desperation. “Where’s the spark? The grit? Something—anything, guys!”

But no spark came. The cheerleaders’ chants grew quieter, their routines losing their usual fire. The crowd’s cheers dulled to murmurs, frustration and disappointment settling over the gym like a heavy fog.

By halftime, the scoreboard was brutal, the Ravens trailing by an almost insurmountable margin. The buzzer sounded, and the team trudged off the court, their heads low, their shoulders slumped.

The gym was stifling, the tension so thick it was hard to breathe. Conversations buzzed around you—snippets of complaints and murmurs of disbelief from fans who couldn’t believe what they were seeing.

You glanced back at Jeno as he trailed behind the rest of the team. His posture was rigid, his hands balled into fists at his sides. He didn’t speak to anyone as he shoved the locker room doors open and disappeared inside.

Whatever weight he was carrying, it was more than just the game. And as the halftime clock ticked down, you couldn’t help but wonder if the Ravens had any fight left in them—or if they’d already lost.

The second half was a transformation—everything had changed. When the Ravens stepped out of the locker room, they carried themselves like warriors ready for battle. Gone were the slumped shoulders and frustrated glances; in their place was a fire that made the air in the gym crackle with intensity. Their heads were high, their movements sharp, and their eyes glinted with a resolve so fierce it was almost tangible. The crowd felt it instantly—an electric shift from restless doubt to roaring anticipation.

“Alright, folks,” Donghyuck’s voice boomed over the speakers, his usual wit giving way to sharp focus. “This is it. Let’s see if our boys can pull off the comeback of the season. No pressure or anything.”

The buzzer sounded, and the game resumed with a ferocity that made the first half look like a scrimmage.

Jeno was the first to strike, and he was mesmerizing—raw power wrapped in effortless grace. He moved like a predator unleashed, every step calculated yet explosive, his sneakers squeaking against the polished court as he shifted directions with a speed that left defenders grasping at air. His dark hair clung to his forehead, damp with sweat that glistened under the lights, accentuating the sharp cut of his cheekbones and the strong line of his jaw. His jersey clung to his lean, muscular frame, every flex and ripple of his body screaming strength and control. 

His eyes burned with focus, his lips set in a determined line, and there was something magnetic about the way he carried himself—fluid yet commanding, his movements so seamless it was as if the ball was an extension of him. The frustration and hesitance of the first half had evaporated, replaced by a Jeno who ruled the court with unshakable authority, owning every inch like it was his birthright.

“Where was this energy in the first half?” Donghyuck exclaimed, his voice rising as the crowd erupted into cheers. “Now that’s the captain we know! Let’s go, Jeno!”

The Ravens’ defense locked in like a vice, suffocating every passing lane the Titans tried to exploit. Chenle played with wild confidence, draining a three-pointer from the corner that sent the crowd into a frenzy. The energy in the gym climbed higher with every possession, the momentum unmistakable. It was like the Ravens had remembered who they were, and the crowd fed off it, their cheers blending into a deafening roar.

Then, with 15 minutes left on the clock, the substitution the crowd had been waiting for finally happened. Mark stepped onto the court, and the reaction was instantaneous. The gym exploded with sound, the walls practically vibrating from the eruption of cheers.

Mark stepped onto the court, and the shift was immediate—commanding, undeniable. His movements were deliberate but effortless, every step grounded with purpose, his body taut like a coiled spring ready to explode. His jersey, damp with sweat, molded to his frame, emphasizing the sharp contours of his shoulders and the lean strength in his arms. His hair, messy and damp, framed his face in a way that only amplified the intensity in his expression—a razor-sharp focus that seemed to cut through everything around him. His gaze wasn’t just observant; it was piercing, dissecting the court like he could already see plays unfolding before they happened. There was a steadiness in him, an air of control that didn’t demand attention but seized it anyway, like gravity itself bent toward him. Every step, every movement, carried a quiet confidence that made it impossible to look away, as if the entire game had shifted to orbit around him.

Mark’s first play wasn’t just a statement—it was a reckoning. Jeno snatched a defensive rebound and, without hesitation, hurled the ball downcourt with the kind of pinpoint accuracy that required absolute trust. Mark caught it mid-stride, his movements smooth and controlled, his body cutting through the Titans’ defense like a blade slicing effortlessly through water. There was no wasted energy, no hesitation—just pure, unrelenting momentum that left his defenders scrambling in his wake.

Then he jumped.

It was the kind of jump that stole the breath from your lungs. Time seemed to stutter as his body soared, muscles taut and perfectly aligned, his form defying the laws of physics. His arm stretched upward, commanding the ball with a precision that was almost primal, before slamming it through the net with a force that sent a violent shudder through the backboard. The crack of the dunk reverberated through the gym, but it was instantly drowned out by the deafening roar of the crowd.

“Holy shit!” Donghyuck’s voice cracked, nearly lost in the chaos, but his excitement was palpable. “Mark Lee just obliterated the Titans! Somebody put that man on a throne!”

You couldn’t take your eyes off him. Every movement radiated power and control, but there was a beauty to it too—a fluidity that seemed almost unnatural. He wasn’t just playing; he was creating. Every pass felt intentional, every drive precise, every shot like a crescendo in a symphony he was conducting. The court wasn’t just a battleground; it was his stage, and he commanded it with a presence that left no room for doubt. The tide had shifted entirely, and the Ravens were riding on his shoulders.

Jeno and Mark moved like two halves of a perfect machine, their earlier discord dissolving into seamless synchronicity. Jeno crashed the boards with a ferocity that seemed to shake the rim itself, snagging the rebound before weaving through defenders, his movements aggressive yet calculated. His eyes locked with Mark’s for only a fraction of a second before he passed, the ball zipping across the court like it had a mind of its own. Mark caught it mid-spin, faking a shot so convincingly that two defenders stumbled. He pivoted with the grace of a dancer, his body low and controlled, and banked in a layup so smooth it drew gasps from the crowd.

Chenle followed with a dagger from the corner—a perfect three-pointer that sent the Ravens ahead for the first time all night. The gym exploded in cheers, but the celebration was short-lived.

The Titans were relentless. Each possession was a war, every point a battle hard-fought. The air grew suffocating with tension, every second dragging out into an eternity as the score stayed neck and neck.

With 30 seconds left on the clock, the game was tied. Sweat slicked faces and jerseys, breaths came in ragged gasps, but all eyes were on one person. Mark Lee.

The Ravens had possession, and the ball was in his hands. The gym fell into an unnatural hush, the kind of silence that amplifies every sneaker squeak, every breath, every heartbeat. It felt as though the entire world had paused, holding its breath, waiting.

“Mark Lee with the ball,” Donghyuck’s voice cut through the quiet, lower now, almost reverent. “30 seconds left. Score tied. This is it, folks. Everything comes down to this.”

Mark stood at the top of the key, his body still yet coiled with tension, like an arrow on the verge of release. His chest heaved, the jersey clinging to his frame, and his damp hair curled against his temple. His gaze swept the court with predator-like precision, scanning for openings, for weaknesses. The defenders circled him, their eyes locked on his every move, but Mark was unshakable, radiating an aura of control so complete it was almost unnerving.

You could barely breathe, your pulse pounding in your ears as you watched him. His movements were deliberate, each dribble slow and measured, a heartbeat counting down to something inevitable.

Then he moved.

Mark feinted left, his body snapping into motion with a speed and grace that left one defender off-balance. He spun right, slipping past another, his footwork immaculate as he surged toward the paint. Every muscle in his body seemed to ripple with purpose, his movements fluid and electric.

And then he jumped.

It wasn’t just a jump—it was a moment suspended in time. His body soared, defying gravity, the arc of his leap impossibly high. His arm extended, releasing the ball in a perfect, calculated trajectory. The ball rose, a slow-motion curve through the air, and for a heartbeat, the gym seemed to hold its breath with you.

Your eyes flicked to his face—his gaze wasn’t on the hoop. It was on you.

Mark’s eyes burned with an intensity that stole the air from your lungs. There was something raw and unguarded in his expression, a silent message that reached you even through the chaos. It wasn’t triumph. It wasn’t even confidence. It was a connection so visceral, so personal, it sent a shiver down your spine.

The ball swished through the net just as the buzzer sounded.

For a second, silence reigned. Then the gym erupted.

The crowd exploded into chaos, their cheers deafening as fans surged to their feet, screaming in triumph. The Ravens bench emptied onto the court, players swarming Mark in a frenzy of victory. Donghyuck’s voice cracked over the speakers, struggling to match the pandemonium. “Mark Lee! Are you kidding me? That’s how you end a game! Somebody get this man a statue!”

But amidst the bedlam, your eyes never left Mark. He stood at the center of it all, his chest rising and falling, his jaw tight, his face glowing with exertion and something else entirely. And even as his teammates crowded around him, slapping his back and shouting his name, he searched the stands.

When his eyes found yours, everything else fell away.

His lips curved into a slow, knowing smile, and the world blurred at the edges, leaving only him in sharp focus. That smile said everything—this is for you—and the weight of it hit you like a tidal wave, your chest tightening, your breath catching in your throat.

Your heart swelled, an overwhelming rush of emotions crashing over you as your hand flew to your mouth. Mark didn’t look away, not even as his teammates swarmed him, their cheers deafening, lifting him onto their shoulders like the champion he was. His jersey clung to his skin, damp with sweat, his face flushed from exertion, his hair wild and messy from the game. And yet, even as he was jostled by the celebratory chaos around him, his gaze cut through it all, searching for one thing.

Searching for you.

The pull between you felt magnetic, an invisible thread tightening as his eyes found yours again, unwavering. You couldn’t look away. His expression softened as the tension in his shoulders melted away, his focus narrowing until it felt like no one else existed. There was something unspoken in his gaze—want, relief, and something deeper that made your knees weak.

Your heart thundered in your chest as you stepped toward him, weaving through the crowd with a determination that pushed past every lingering fan and excited teammate in your way. Each step felt like a bridge closing, the distance between you shrinking until you were finally there, standing just feet from him.

Mark’s body stilled, his head turning as if he felt you before he even saw you. His eyes locked on yours, and for a moment, the noise of the gym seemed to fade into nothingness.

“Nice shot,” you said, your voice light, though your hands trembled slightly at your sides.

His grin widened, his expression softening even further, though the teasing glint in his eyes remained. “Nice legs,” he shot back, his voice low and warm, his gaze dipping down and lingering before returning to yours, sparking heat in your chest.

You let out a soft laugh, ducking your head in an attempt to hide the blush blooming across your cheeks. “Shut up,” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

Mark stepped closer, the space between you dissolving until his presence was all-consuming. His hand reached out, brushing against your arm lightly, grounding you in the storm of emotions swirling around you both. “I mean it,” he murmured, his voice dropping, intimate and unguarded in a way that made your pulse quicken.

Your eyes flicked up to his, and the intensity there left you breathless. It wasn’t just triumph or joy—it was a quiet promise, something raw and deeply personal that made it impossible to look away. He leaned in slightly, his breath warm as he murmured, “I didn’t just make that shot for the team, you know.”

Your lips parted, but no words came out, the weight of his confession hanging between you like a thread waiting to be pulled. His hand slid down, brushing yours, and his fingers curled slightly as if asking permission to close the gap completely.

“Mark,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you looked up at him, every ounce of your emotion laid bare in your gaze.

His smile turned softer, more private, his fingers intertwining with yours as he stepped just a fraction closer. “I know,” he said quietly, his voice filled with so much warmth and certainty it felt like it could steady you both. “I know.”

The gym buzzed around you—teammates slapping each other’s backs, fans shouting congratulations, Donghyuck still narrating the chaos with gleeful commentary—but it all felt distant. All that mattered was the steady thrum of Mark’s heartbeat against your cheek and the warmth of his arms around you.

His embrace felt like home, grounding you in a moment you wanted to stretch on forever. But his eyes, so intent on yours, eventually shifted, drawn away by the sound of his name being called. A few of the guys waved him over, their voices cutting through the background noise, demanding his attention.

Mark hesitated, his arms loosening just slightly, though he didn’t let go entirely. He pulled back enough to meet your gaze, his hands still resting lightly on your waist. “There’s a party tonight,” he said, his voice soft but hopeful, his lips curving into a small, boyish smile. “Some of the guys wanna celebrate the win. Do you want to come with me?”

He deserved this—he deserved every second of celebration, of joy, of pride that came with a victory like tonight’s. He’d earned the right to revel in the exhilaration of it, surrounded by the teammates and fans who had cheered him on. And yet, the weight of what you wanted to say pressed against your ribs, relentless and suffocating. It clawed at you, demanding release, and the idea of holding it in for even one more moment felt unbearable.

But you couldn’t take this from him. Not now.

So you shook your head, your smile widening despite the turmoil twisting inside you. “Go,” you urged softly, your voice steady even as your heart raced. “Enjoy your night. You deserve it.”

Mark’s frown deepened slightly, his thumb brushing over your hip in a way that felt both grounding and heartbreaking. His touch lingered, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. “I’ll come to yours tonight,” he murmured, his voice low, almost hesitant, like he was reluctant to let you go. “We can talk then, and you can finally tell me what you’ve been wanting to say—”

“I love you.”

The words left you before you could stop them, trembling and raw, carrying all the weight of the fear and longing you’d bottled up for too long. They hung in the air between you, fragile and unguarded, as if daring the world to shatter them.

Mark froze. His hands, which had been resting lightly on your waist, tightened reflexively, pulling you closer as if he needed the anchor. His eyes locked onto yours, wide and unblinking, the vulnerability in them so palpable it made your chest ache. You could feel his heartbeat quicken under your touch, his breaths shallow as he tried to process what you’d just said.

Your fingers curled slightly against his chest, and the silence stretched like an eternity, your throat tightening as you waited, terrified and hopeful all at once. Slowly, his gaze softened, the sharp edges of shock melting into something warmer, something deeper. His lips parted, but no words came, only a shaky exhale that mirrored the unsteady rhythm of your own.

His composure cracked then, his jaw tightening as his eyes glistened. He didn’t look away, not for a second, even as a tear slipped down his cheek. You gasped softly, your hands moving instinctively, brushing against his face to catch it. “Baby,” you whispered, your voice trembling, the word breaking as it left you.

He leaned into your touch, his own hand covering yours as he held it against his face. His eyes closed briefly, his lashes damp as he let out a breath that sounded like relief and pain all at once. When he opened them again, his gaze burned with something raw, something that made your knees weak.

“I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this,” you began, your voice soft and cracking, every word spilling out like a confession. “I’ve felt it for so long, but every time I thought I was ready, I’d get scared. Scared of what you’d think, scared of messing everything up—scared of this, of us.”

Mark’s thumb brushed against the back of your hand, his touch steadying even as your voice wavered. You swallowed hard, your gaze dropping for a moment before you found the strength to look back up at him.

“Loving you… it isn’t about facing my fears,” you whispered, the realization sinking in as you spoke it aloud. “It’s about realizing that you are the calm in the chaos. You’re what makes everything feel less scary. You’re what grounds me, Mark. And I’ve spent so long fighting it, trying to avoid it, but I can’t do that anymore. I don’t want to do that anymore.”

The truth spilled out, raw and unfiltered. “You’re in my head every second of every day. You’re the first thought when I wake up, the last before I fall asleep, and you’ve taken over everything in between too. I can’t shake it, and I don’t want to anymore. You make me feel safe, like the world could fall apart, and I’d still have you to hold onto.”

Your voice cracked, and a tear slipped down your cheek, but you kept going. “But it’s more than that. You see me—all of me. The parts I’m proud of, the ones I try to hide—and you never flinch. You never look away. And that scares me because it makes me feel like I could deserve something this good. That we could deserve this.”

Mark’s hand tightened around yours, his jaw clenching as he took a shaky breath, his eyes never leaving yours.

“I’ve spent so long running,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “Because I didn’t think I was ready. But being without you has made me realize something. I’ll never feel ready—not the way I want to. But the thought of losing you?” You shook your head, your tears coming faster now. “That scares me more than anything else ever could.”

You stepped closer, your hands trembling as you reached for him, your fingers curling into the fabric of his jersey. His warmth surrounded you, steadying you as the words tumbled out, heavy with truth.

“I love you,” you said, your voice breaking but resolute. “I love you so much, Mark. And I don’t want to spend another second pretending otherwise.”

Mark’s lips parted, his breath shaky, and his eyes softened in a way that made your chest ache, the raw emotion in his gaze carving its way into your soul. Slowly, with deliberate tenderness, he cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears streaking your cheeks. His lips curved into the most disarming, tender smile you’d ever seen, the kind that felt like a sunrise breaking over your heart.

He moved even closer, his body nearly flush against yours, the world around you fading into a soft, hazy blur. The gym buzzed in the background—teammates laughing, fans shouting, Donghyuck’s voice narrating with endless energy—but it all felt distant, like you’d stepped into a scene pulled straight out of a movie. The bright overhead lights glowed like halos, illuminating the wisps of steam rising from the court, the air charged with electricity, alive with anticipation.

Mark’s eyes stayed locked on yours, his attention wholly absorbed, and it was clear in his gaze that whatever plans he had for the night no longer mattered. All that mattered was you.

His name fell from your lips like a prayer, soft and reverent, as your fingers reached up to cup his face. Your thumbs grazed his cheekbones, your heart pounding as you leaned in, ready to close the distance, to seal your confession with a kiss.

But before your lips could meet, a voice broke through the moment. “Mark! You coming?” Chenle’s shout echoed across the gym, shattering the fragile bubble around you.

Mark groaned audibly, his forehead dropping to rest briefly against yours. Then, without looking away, he shouted back, “No!” The word was abrupt, forceful, but it was cut off almost immediately as he closed the distance between you.

His lips met yours, soft and searching, the kiss carrying a tenderness that made your knees weak. It wasn’t hurried or frantic—this was Mark, steady and sure, pouring every ounce of his emotions into that single moment.

You pulled back after a beat, though your hands remained on his face, your touch grounding him as much as it steadied you. Tears lined your lashes, but your gaze didn’t waver, and neither did your voice.

“I love you,” you repeated, the words pouring out of you like they were the truest thing you’d ever said. “I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you at the river court. You were so different from anyone I’d ever known—quiet, steady, but with this energy, like you were carrying the weight of the world and still managing to make it look effortless. Even then, I knew you were going to mean everything to me.”

“You’ve always seen me,” you continued, your voice low and trembling, though a quiet strength carried it forward. “That day at the river court, you didn’t just see me standing there—you saw through me. Even when I’ve been guarded, messy, selfish, or cruel, you stayed. You stayed and cared when I didn’t think I deserved it. When I didn’t think I deserved you.”

Tears welled in his eyes now, glistening under the gym lights as his jaw tightened, his lips parting as though he wanted to say something, but you stopped him with a gentle shake of your head.

“I love how patient you are,” you said, your thumbs brushing along his jawline. “How you’ve never pushed me to be something I’m not but still made me want to be better just by being around you. I love how you remember everything, like how to bring me back when I zone out or how I need the edge of the blanket tucked under my chin to fall asleep. You make me feel so… safe, like no matter what happens, you’ll be there.”

“And it’s not just that, Mark,” you whispered, your voice cracking as you leaned closer, your forehead almost brushing his. “It’s the way you love everyone so deeply, the way you look at the world with so much hope, even when you’ve been given every reason not to. It’s the way you talk about your music, like it’s the one place you can put all the pieces of yourself that don’t fit anywhere else. I love all of it. I love you.”

Mark’s breath hitched, his eyes darkening with an emotion so raw it sent a ripple through you. “Come here,” he murmured, the words low and edged with a quiet urgency that made your skin tingle. The irony of his demand wasn’t lost on you—you were already impossibly close—but the way he said it felt like he was asking for more than proximity. He wanted all of you.

His gaze was steady, burning but gentle, as if he was trying to memorize every curve of your face, every unspoken thought in your eyes. The warmth of his breath mingled with yours, soft and unhurried, yet it left your knees weak, your heart thrumming in your chest like a wild drumbeat.

Your palms flattened against his chest, the fabric of his shirt damp under your touch as you felt the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your fingers. It was strong, fast, and grounding in a way that made you feel both nervous and completely at ease. “Say it back then,” you whispered, your voice trembling, the words more a plea than a demand.

Mark’s lips curved into the softest, most intimate smile, his forehead dipping closer to yours. His fingers tightened on your waist, not possessive but anchoring, like he needed to hold onto you as much as you needed him. “I’ve already said it,” he murmured, his voice low, raspy with emotion, as if the words were carved out of him. He tilted his head, his lips brushing just barely against the shell of your ear, and his next words were softer, heavier. “But I’ll say it again. I love you. I’ve loved you longer than I’ve been able to admit. And I’ll love you forever.”

The weight of his confession made your breath catch, and before you could even process it, his lips met yours. The kiss wasn’t rushed or desperate—it was soft, deliberate, and consuming, the kind of kiss that made the world around you fall away. His mouth moved against yours with a gentleness that contrasted with the way his fingers pressed into your hips, like he couldn’t bear to let go.

His tongue brushed against yours, slow and intoxicating, a deliberate exploration that made heat pool low in your stomach. His hands slid up your sides, cradling your face, his thumbs stroking your cheeks in a way that made the moment feel impossibly tender. It was like he was pouring everything he felt—every unsaid word, every buried longing—into the kiss.

The noises he made—soft, needy, quiet murmurs that came straight from his chest—made your skin flush and your fingers curl against him. You lost yourself in the warmth of his body, the way his lips molded so perfectly to yours, the intensity of his presence eclipsing everything else.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested gently against yours, both of you catching your breath, the air between you thick with something unspoken but undeniable. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, and when he opened them again, they were filled with so much warmth it made your chest ache. His voice, low and tender, broke the silence. “My love,” he whispered, the words more a vow than a statement.

And you believed him. Fully, deeply, completely.

For a moment, the world dissolved into nothing but him—the warmth of his chest beneath your palms, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat grounding you in the sea of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. Your breath trembled as you gathered yourself, your fingers curling slightly into the fabric of his jersey. When you opened your eyes, his gaze was waiting, unwavering, and so full of tenderness that it made your chest ache.

“Come home with me?” you whispered, your voice small, almost shy, like you were asking him out for the first time instead of speaking to the man who had just kissed you like he’d pour his soul into it. The words wavered with vulnerability, a quiet plea wrapped in the softest of tones.

Mark’s lips quirked into a slow, easy smile, the kind that made you feel like the only person in the world. His hands slid around your waist, pulling you closer, his touch warm and steady. “Mmm, of course,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, but his eyes gave him away—they were filled with something deeper, something unshakable. “That party was probably gonna be dead anyway.”

He didn’t even glance back at his friends, his attention solely on you as he laced his fingers with yours. His grip was firm but gentle, and the way his thumb brushed over the back of your hand sent a shiver racing up your spine. His other arm remained wrapped protectively around your waist as he guided you toward the exit, his presence magnetic, making it impossible to think about anything but him.

As the cool night air hit your skin, Mark glanced over at you, his grin turning playful, his eyes sparkling under the streetlights. “You know,” he started, his tone casual but with a teasing edge that made your stomach flutter, “my girlfriend looks really fucking hot tonight.”

You let out a soft giggle, rolling your eyes, though the heat creeping up your neck betrayed how much his words got to you. “Shut up,” you muttered, but your voice turned playful as you leaned in closer, your lips brushing just past his ear. “Maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll let you take it all off later.”

Mark suddenly stopped, his hand still in yours, and lifted your arm above your head. Before you could question him, he spun you around in the middle of the empty sidewalk, his whistle low and appreciative. “Damn,” he murmured, his voice dropping as his eyes swept over you with unabashed admiration.

You stumbled slightly at the end of the spin, and his hand found your waist again, steadying you effortlessly as he pulled you flush against him. His lips dipped to your ear, his breath warm and teasing against your skin. “I can’t believe that little cheer you gave me on the court earlier” he murmured, his voice low and laced with playful heat, “you’re not allowed to cheer my name like that again.”

You blinked up at him, confused for a moment before realization hit. He was referring to the way you’d screamed his name during the game, your voice echoing through the packed arena. The memory flooded back, and your cheeks burned instantly.

Your steps faltered as his words replayed in your head. “I was just supporting my boyfriend,” you managed, your voice soft and a little breathless, the word boyfriend leaving your lips shyly.

Mark’s reaction was immediate, subtle but unmistakable. His pupils darkened, his jaw tightened briefly, and the corner of his mouth twitched upward, as though he was fighting to suppress a grin.

“Excited and happy, huh?” he echoed, his tone light but the intensity in his gaze made your stomach flip.

“It’s true,” you replied, your voice airy and playful, though the way his eyes bore into yours made it hard to breathe.

Mark’s smirk deepened, his grip on your waist tightening just slightly. “It sounded like you were moaning, baby,” he teased, his tone dripping with mischief.

Without missing a beat, you deadpanned, “I probably was.”

The growl that rumbled from his chest was low and immediate, the sound vibrating through your body as he pulled you even closer. His nose brushed along your temple, his lips skimming the corner of your mouth in a touch so soft it sent a jolt straight through you.

“Mmmh,” he hummed, his voice dropping further, warm and intimate against your ear. “I could hear that forever.”

The way he looked at you made the world feel impossibly small, as though everything else had faded away and left only the two of you walking under the stars. His arm tightened around your waist, anchoring you to him, while his lips pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead.

You melted into his touch, the warmth of his hand seeping into your skin, his presence grounding and utterly consuming. His silence spoke louder than words, his actions weaving together a quiet promise that settled deep in your chest.

When he finally spoke, his voice was soft, trembling slightly, like the words were slipping out before he could stop them. “You feel like home,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple as he held you closer. “You always have.”

And as the two of you walked into the night, his arm around you and his hand laced with yours, you couldn’t help but feel like you were exactly where you belonged.

──────────────────────────────

“Mark,” you whined softly, your voice trembling with a mix of need and confusion as you sat naked on his bed, your arms wrapping around yourself for some semblance of comfort. Your skin felt warm under the dim light of his room, the sheets beneath you cool and smooth. “What are you doing? Come here.”

Mark paced the room, shirtless and in just his sweatpants, his dark hair tousled from where your hands had been moments ago. His broad shoulders flexed with every step, his jaw tight with focus as he scanned the shelves lining the wall. You couldn’t help but feel an ache watching him, his lean, defined muscles illuminated by the soft glow of the bedside lamp.

“I’m looking for something,” he muttered, his tone calm but deliberate. 

“Looking for something?” you huffed, frustrated. “You brought me here instead of my place, got me naked, and now you’re—”

“Be patient, baby,” he interrupted, his eyes flicking to yours with a playful glint. “We’ve got a whole lifetime of sex.”

You blinked, stunned silent for a moment, then groaned, flopping back onto the bed dramatically. “What are you even—”

“Found it!” Mark exclaimed suddenly, turning around with a triumphant grin and a dusty yearbook in his hands.

You blinked, completely thrown off as he finally made his way to you. Sitting beside you on the bed, he opened the book with a kind of excitement that was impossible to ignore. “I want to show you something,” he said, flipping through the pages with quick fingers until he stopped at one. His eyes lit up as he held it out in front of you without saying a word.

Your gaze fell to the page, scanning the colorful scribbles of goodbyes, good lucks, and bright, bubbly messages. But one thing stood out immediately: your name, not even your full name, written in plain black ink, bold and monotone amidst the vibrant chaos.

You looked up at him, your lips parting slightly in surprise, and he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. His touch was soft, reverent, but when he pulled back, the glint in his eyes returned. “Imagine 14-year-old me,” he began, his voice warm and teasing. “I had a massive crush on the prettiest girl in our year—her name’s Y/N. You know her?”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips. “Oh, shut up.”

He chuckled, flipping the yearbook closed and tossing it aside before sitting back on his heels. “I finally mustered the courage to ask her to sign my yearbook. It took weeks of mentally hyping myself up. I’d be walking to her, and she’d always be… annoyingly with my brother, who I hated at the time.” He smirked, shaking his head. “And you know what she wrote? Her name. Just her name, not even her full name.”

“I didn’t know you then!” you protested, jabbing his shoulder playfully, but your cheeks flushed under his intense gaze.

He reached for your hand, his fingers threading through yours with the kind of tenderness that made your chest ache. His expression softened, his eyes searching yours as if trying to gauge whether it was safe to bare the parts of himself he’d hidden for so long. “You probably don’t even remember, but in high school, I could barely look at you without feeling like my heart was going to stop,” he admitted, his voice trembling, quieter now, heavy with vulnerability. “You never paid me any attention—not really—but you were the first girl I ever liked. No, more than liked.”

His lips parted, and a faint, almost wistful smile crossed his face. “You were beautiful,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “Not just the kind of beautiful people talk about in passing. You were the kind of beautiful that made me trip over my own words, the kind that made my palms sweat every time you were near. Everything about you made me nervous—how you laughed, the way you wore your hair, the way you moved like you belonged wherever you were.”

His thumb brushed softly over the back of your hand, his gaze distant now, lost somewhere in the memory. “I used to sneak into those practices, even though I wasn’t on the team. I’d sit in the bleachers and tell my friends I was just watching the game, but really, I couldn’t take my eyes off you. And God, I hated it, how you were so far out of reach, how you were with someone else, how I couldn’t even imagine you ever noticing me.”

You felt your chest tighten, the weight of his words settling over you, so full of unspoken longing and quiet heartbreak. “Mark…” you whispered, his name catching in your throat as his honesty cracked something open inside you.

He met your gaze again, and his faint smile faltered, replaced by something raw, unguarded. “You were untouchable back then. I was this awkward, hopeless kid who didn’t know how to talk to girls, let alone someone like you. You seemed perfect—too perfect for someone like me. You had everything: the friends, the confidence, Jeno. And I had… nothing that could ever compare.”

He paused, his forehead brushing lightly against yours, his voice dropping even lower, a confession whispered into the small space between you. “I told myself it didn’t matter. That you’d never see me the way I saw you. But I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Even when it hurt, I couldn’t stop.”

His free hand slid up, his thumb brushing gently along your jawline, the touch soft, almost hesitant, as if grounding himself in the moment. His gaze held yours, steady but vulnerable, the weight of his emotions unspoken yet palpable. “For so long,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with quiet longing, “I’d look at you and wonder if you could ever love me back. If someone like you—so effortless, so full of light—could ever see someone like me.”

A faint, self-conscious smile crossed his face, his thumb brushing over your cheek with a tenderness that made your chest tighten. “I tried to tell myself not to think about it, not to hope for something that felt so far away. But I couldn’t help it. Every time I saw you, every time you smiled or laughed… I’d find myself wishing. Wishing for even a moment that you’d see me the way I saw you.”

His forehead dipped lightly against yours, his breath warm as it mingled with yours. His voice softened, trembling with the honesty of his confession. “And now, with you here like this… I don’t know how to make sense of it. That you’d ever love me back the way I’ve always loved you.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, his words settling deep in your chest, so sincere they made your heart swell painfully. Your fingers slid up, tangling gently in the hair at the nape of his neck as you blinked up at him, your breaths shallow, your emotions teetering on the edge.

He shifted, his weight settling on top of you, his touch reverent as his hand cradled your jaw. “I can’t believe you’re mine now,” he murmured, his tone soft but laced with disbelief, like it was a truth he couldn’t quite fathom.

“I’ve always been yours,” you whispered, the words spilling from your lips like a confession, unfiltered and raw. Your fingertips traced along the curve of his jaw, soft and deliberate, as if grounding yourself in the moment. His eyes darkened instantly, a quiet intensity swirling within them that sent a shiver coursing down your spine.

Mark’s hand slid up your waist, his touch warm and steady, before resting lightly at the nape of your neck, his thumb brushing against the sensitive skin there. He leaned in closer, his breath fanning against your lips, his voice low and barely audible. “Say that again,” he murmured, his tone full of quiet need, like he couldn’t bear to hear anything else.

You tilted your chin up, your lips brushing his as you whispered again, softer but with no less conviction, “I’ve always been yours.”

His response wasn’t verbal; it came in the way his lips captured yours, slow and deliberate, like he wanted to savor every second of the moment. His fingers tangled gently in your hair, his other hand tightening at your waist to pull you closer until there was no space left between you. The kiss deepened, not hurried but consuming, each movement of his mouth against yours saying everything words couldn’t.

He leaned back just enough to meet your gaze. His eyes softened, something deep and nostalgic flickering behind them as he held you close. His voice was quiet but steady when he finally spoke. “You know, I wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for you.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the shift. “What do you mean?”

His lips twitched into a small, teasing smile, but there was an unmistakable fondness in his expression. “You’re the reason I got back into basketball.”

“What?” You frowned, utterly confused.

Mark’s smile widened slightly as he shook his head, a soft laugh escaping him. “You threw a basketball at my face when we were 12 years old.”

Your jaw dropped, a mix of horror and disbelief flooding you. “I did what?”

“It was during a sports class at school,” he said, the corners of his mouth curving upward as if the memory played vividly in his mind. “You just hurled a basketball, and it nailed me right in the face. I think I cried to my mum about it later that night.”

Your hand flew to your mouth, a gasp escaping you. “Oh my God, Mark! That’s awful! I’m so sorry, baby,” you said, your tone trembling with guilt.

He chuckled, his thumb brushing against your cheek, grounding you in the moment. “Don’t be,” he murmured softly. “I don’t even think you meant to do it. You felt bad afterward.”

“That’s a relief,” you muttered, though your brows furrowed. “But I still don’t get it. Why would I throw a basketball at you? And why don’t I remember this at all?”

Mark’s smile grew softer, his eyes warm as they held yours. “Because for you, it was just another day. For me, it changed everything.”

You blinked, unsure what to say, the weight of his words catching you off guard.

“You didn’t throw it at me on purpose,” he continued, his voice tinged with amusement. “You were aiming for the hoop, but you were standing so far away. And when it hit me, you came over, said sorry, and then challenged me. You told me I wasn’t allowed to throw it back unless I made a shot from there—at least ten meters away.”

Your lips parted in surprise. “And?”

“And I did it,” he said, his tone growing softer, the teasing melting into something more vulnerable. “You didn’t know, but I’d just quit the little leagues team the week before. I was embarrassed, frustrated—ready to give up on basketball completely. But when I made that shot… something clicked. You didn’t know what I was going through, but you made me feel like I could prove something to myself. Like I was capable of more.”

He swallowed hard, his eyes locking with yours, a quiet intensity in them now. “That day taught me not to give up on the things I love just because a few people are being idiots. It reminded me that I was good and that I loved the game too much to walk away. I joined another team that week. And… the rest is history.”

The weight of his confession settled in the space between you, warm and unshakable. You stared at him, your heart swelling as his words wrapped around you, heavy with meaning.

“Mark…” you whispered, your hand lifting to brush against his cheek, your thumb grazing his skin with the same tenderness you felt blooming in your chest.

His eyes softened even further, his head dipping slightly as he leaned into your touch. “You’ve been changing my life since before I even realized it,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss so soft it left you breathless.

When he pulled back, his voice was no more than a whisper, full of quiet reverence. “It’s always been you.”

Your breath hitched, your heart swelling with a mix of emotions too overwhelming to name. “Mark,” you murmured, your voice trembling, as if his words had unlocked something raw inside you. Your fingertips brushed against his jaw, your touch soft but deliberate, grounding you both. “Then don’t just tell me,” you whispered, your gaze steady and full of quiet intensity. “Show me.”

Mark’s grin deepened, slow and deliberate, as he took a step closer. His bare feet brushed against yours, the heat of his body radiating into you, a breath away from pressing fully into you. Your hands instinctively found his chest, your palms flattening against the warmth of his skin. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your touch felt grounding, as if the world had melted away and left only the two of you. His muscles flexed subtly beneath your fingers, the silent invitation undeniable.

His eyes, dark and heavy with intensity, traced your face like he was memorizing you, committing every inch of you to memory. You felt exposed in the best way, his gaze unraveling you as your fingers lightly explored the planes of his chest.

When he kissed you again, it was slower, more deliberate, his lips soft yet commanding as they melded with yours. His hands slid to your waist, his grip tightening slightly as he pulled you impossibly closer. The kiss deepened, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that left you breathless, teasing and coaxing until your knees felt weak.

He broke away only to trail his lips along your jaw, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine. His teeth grazed your skin, just enough to make you gasp, before his mouth pressed tenderly to the spot beneath your ear.

“Wait,” you whispered, your voice trembling but firm as you gently pushed back just enough to meet his gaze.

His brow furrowed slightly, his chest rising and falling with unsteady breaths. “Take me to my apartment,” you murmured, your lips brushing against his. “I told you I had something waiting for you there.”

Mark’s head tipped back slightly as a low moan escaped him, his grip on your waist tightening. “Baby,” he groaned, his voice rough with need. “You know how long I’ve been waiting for this? What do you even have for me back at yours?”

You smiled, playful but sweet, your fingers lightly tracing the line of his collarbone. “It’s a surprise,” you teased softly.

“Y/N,” he rasped, his voice heavy with a mix of desperation and amusement.

Your grin widened, and you leaned in, your voice a soft whisper against his lips. “I just made my room look pretty—candles, fairy lights, silk bed sheets, and pyjamas,” you murmured, pausing just long enough to watch his reaction. “I even have a new lingerie set laid out on the bed.”

Mark moaned, the sound low and full of raw need, his forehead pressing against yours as his hands slid up your sides, gripping you like he couldn’t bear the wait. “You’re going to kill me,” he muttered, his voice thick with longing. “Do you know what you’re doing to me right now?”

You smiled, letting your lips ghost over his as you whispered, “So let’s go, hm? I’ve been really excited to show you all day.”

Mark’s breath hitched again, his lips brushing yours in a fleeting kiss before he growled softly, grabbing your hand and lacing his fingers with yours. “Let’s go,” he said, his voice low and resolute as he led you toward the door, his urgency palpable.

──────────────────────────────

The candlelight flickered softly against the walls, casting long shadows that swayed with every subtle movement. The air felt thick, not just with the warm scent of cinnamon and vanilla but with the weight of anticipation, of the energy crackling between you. Your silk pajamas clung to your skin, the soft pink fabric whispering against your curves as you shifted beneath him. The unbuttoned top parted with ease, revealing the delicate lingerie beneath—lace so fine it barely concealed you, the sheer cups of the bralette stretching over the soft swell of your breasts, the faintest hint of your nipples peeking through. The matching panties sat high on your hips, hugging your curves with a teasing delicacy, the thin bands of lace framing the exposed skin with maddening allure.

Mark’s gaze roamed over you, dark and heavy, like he was trying to memorize every inch. He leaned closer, his hands braced on either side of you, the bed dipping slightly under his weight. His hoodie hit the floor in a careless heap, the smooth expanse of his chest coming into view. The faint glow of the fairy lights illuminated every muscle, the dip of his collarbone, the subtle ripple of his abs. His body was unfairly perfect, but it was the hunger in his eyes that made your breath hitch.

“Pretty, baby,” he whispered, his voice thick and laced with awe. The words were a quiet exhale, spoken as though he didn’t mean for them to escape. His hands slid under the loose silk of your pajama top, pushing it aside completely, his fingers brushing over the delicate straps of your bralette before skimming down to the lace band. The reverence in his touch made you ache, the way he held you as if you were something sacred.

Your laughter spilled out, soft and breathless, breaking the tension like the gentlest crack in a dam. His hair tickled your cheek as he leaned in, his nose brushing yours, his lips ghosting over the corner of your mouth. The intimacy of it—the way his chuckle rumbled low in his chest, the way your bodies pressed together with no urgency, only desire—was intoxicating.

Mark climbed fully onto the bed, his thighs bracketing your hips as he caged you beneath him. He hovered, careful not to crush you, his weight balanced yet grounding. His lips found your cheek first, then your nose, then the soft plane of your jaw. Each kiss was unhurried, tender, as though he were savoring every second. “I love you,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a breath against your skin. The sincerity in his tone made your heart twist, a warmth blooming in your chest that threatened to spill over.

“I love you more,” you whispered, the words trembling on your lips. Your hands slid up to rest on his shoulders, your fingers pressing into the solid strength there. The heat of his skin under your palms was grounding, a reminder that this moment was real.

His lips trailed lower, brushing over the curve of your neck before finding the sensitive skin of your collarbone. His kisses grew wetter, hungrier, his tongue darting out to taste you. A quiet hum of pleasure escaped him as he worked his way down, his hands slipping beneath your thighs to pull your legs higher around his hips. The shift pressed his cock harder against your center, the thick ridge of him dragging against your folds even through the thin fabric of your panties.

“Mark,” you breathed, your voice catching as his teeth grazed the edge of your collarbone. He chuckled softly, the sound muffled against your skin, but there was a roughness to it now, a raw edge of restraint barely held in check.

He kissed his way down, his mouth following the line of your ribs, his hands guiding your body to arch into him. When his lips closed around your nipple, a sharp gasp escaped you, the sensation sending a jolt straight to your core. The lace of your bralette offered little resistance, and when his teeth tugged gently, the faintest hint of pain mixed with pleasure, your fingers curled into the sheets beneath you.

“I just can’t get enough of you,” he murmured, his words muffled against your skin. His tongue swirled over the sensitive peak before he sucked harder, his groan vibrating against you. His free hand cupped your other breast, his thumb circling your nipple with just enough pressure to make you squirm.

Your laughter turned into a soft moan, the sound swallowed by the low growl in Mark’s throat. His lips traveled lower, his teeth grazing the edge of your bralette before he slid it down, his hands eager but never hurried. He pressed a kiss to the valley between your breasts, his tongue darting out to taste the skin there, as though he couldn’t bear to leave any part of you untouched.

When he finally moved lower, his kisses trailing down your stomach, you shivered beneath him. His hands slipped under your hips, lifting you slightly, and he pressed his mouth to the inside of your thigh. The heat of his breath against your skin made you gasp, the intimacy of the gesture leaving you trembling.

The head of his cock pressed against your entrance, the slick heat of you drawing a low groan from his throat as he moved with an unhurried, aching slowness. He whispered your name, soft and reverent, the sound pulling your gaze to his like a magnet. The weight of his eyes on yours left you breathless, a quiet intensity passing between you that felt more intimate than anything else. He didn’t need to speak; the way his forehead pressed against yours, the way his body trembled as he began to push in, said everything. The stretch was slow, deliberate, each inch stealing the air from your lungs as your hands gripped his shoulders for anchoring.

Your nails dug into his shoulders as he filled you inch by inch, the burn giving way to a fullness that left you gasping. He stilled, his chest heaving as he fought for control, his body trembling against yours. “I love you,” he whispered again, his lips brushing over yours. The words grounded you, the intimacy of the moment leaving you breathless.

His thrusts were slow at first, deliberate, each movement carrying the weight of his devotion. He kissed you deeply, his mouth moving over yours as though he couldn’t stand the idea of being apart, even for a second. The rhythm built gradually, the drag of him inside you hitting every sensitive spot, leaving you trembling beneath him.

“You feel so good,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. His lips found your throat, his teeth grazing over your pulse before he sucked gently, leaving faint marks that would bloom into bruises by morning. His hips rolled, the angle changing just enough to make your back arch, a broken gasp escaping you as he hit that perfect spot.

“Mark,” you cried, your voice high and desperate, your hands tangling in his hair. He lifted his head, his dark eyes meeting yours, and the intensity in his gaze made your chest tighten. “That’s it, baby,” he rasped, his tone commanding yet tender. “I want to feel you come for me.”

The pressure built to a fever pitch, the knot in your stomach winding tighter with every stroke. He shifted again, angling his hips to press deeper, and the sensation sent you spiraling. Your body arched against him, your walls clenching around him as your orgasm ripped through you, wave after wave of pleasure leaving you trembling.

Mark groaned, the sound raw and broken, as he followed moments later. His thrusts turned erratic, desperate, before he buried himself completely, his release spilling into you with a warmth that made you gasp. His forehead pressed to yours, his dark eyes holding your gaze as though he needed to see every flicker of emotion in your expression.

Mark’s breathing was heavy against your ear, his chest brushing yours with each slow, deliberate thrust. The room seemed to hum with the weight of the moment, the flickering candlelight catching the sheen of sweat on his skin, highlighting the curve of his jaw and the stray strands of damp hair sticking to his forehead. His hands slid along your sides, rough and calloused against the softness of your skin, anchoring you in place as he moved.

“Tell me what you feel,” he whispered, his voice low and ragged, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. The question wasn’t just a command; it was a plea, the kind that begged for honesty, for you to meet him in the vulnerability of it all.

“Full,” you breathed, your nails dragging across his back. “Like you’re everywhere, Mark.” Your voice trembled as the stretch of him sent another wave of pleasure spiraling through you. He groaned, the sound guttural, almost pained, as though your words had hit something deep inside him.

His hips shifted again, angling upward to press against that devastating spot that left you gasping, your thighs tightening instinctively around his waist. He pulled back, just enough to see your face, his forehead pressed against yours. His eyes were darker than you’d ever seen, pupils blown wide with desire, but there was something softer there too, something raw and unguarded that made your chest ache.

“I want to stay here,” he murmured, his words broken between uneven breaths. “Like this. With you.” His lips brushed over yours, the kiss impossibly tender, a contrast to the way his body rolled against yours, deep and deliberate.

“You feel so good,” you whispered, the words spilling out before you could think, your hands fisting in his hair as you pulled him closer. Your bodies fit together as though they had been made for this moment, every brush of his skin against yours, every inch of him inside you, speaking a language neither of you needed to translate.

His thrusts grew harder, more insistent, his restraint beginning to crack under the weight of his need. The bed creaked faintly beneath you, the sound blending with the soft moans and whispers that filled the room. The pace was deliberate but relentless, each motion calculated to drive you higher, to pull you closer to the edge.

“Mark,” you gasped, your voice breaking as his hand slid down your side, gripping your hip tightly to keep you in place. He was relentless now, each thrust perfectly angled, the friction between your bodies building into something unbearable.

“Yeah, baby,” he groaned, his voice rough, his lips trailing down the side of your neck. “You’re taking me so well. Just like that. Just like you’re made for me.” The heat in his tone left you trembling, your head tipping back to give him more access as his teeth scraped against your pulse.

His hand slid lower, his fingers brushing over the damp fabric of your panties, still pushed to the side. When his thumb found your clit, pressing against it with just the right amount of pressure, your whole body jolted, a sharp cry escaping you.

“Look at me,” he said, his voice a low growl, his thumb moving in slow circles that had your legs shaking around him. Your eyes fluttered open, locking with his, the intensity of his gaze leaving you raw, exposed. “That’s it,” he murmured, his forehead pressing against yours. “Let me see you.”

The pressure in your core built to a fever pitch, your body trembling beneath him as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. The rhythm of his hips was relentless now, each thrust driving deeper, his cock hitting that perfect spot that left you gasping for air. His thumb worked in tandem with his movements, the combination sending sparks shooting through your veins.

“I’m close,” you whispered, the words catching in your throat as your hands clawed at his shoulders, pulling him closer. Your walls clenched around him, and he groaned low in his throat, his hand gripping your thigh as though he needed to hold onto something.

“I know, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick with strain. “I can feel it. Let go for me. I want to feel you.”

His words were your undoing. The knot in your stomach unraveled, pleasure crashing over you in waves so intense it left you gasping, your back arching off the bed as you cried his name. Your body trembled beneath him, every nerve alight, your walls fluttering around him as the aftershocks rolled through you.

“Fuck,” Mark growled, his hips stuttering as he followed you over the edge. His thrusts turned erratic, deeper, harder, each movement driving him further into you. His forehead pressed against yours, his breath coming in sharp bursts as his release filled you, the heat of it overwhelming.

He stilled, his body trembling above yours, his weight pressing you into the mattress in the best way. His lips found yours in a kiss that was soft but desperate, his hand sliding up to cradle your face as though he couldn’t bear to let you go.

The moment stretched, the silence between you filled only by the sound of your ragged breaths and the faint hum of the fairy lights above. His hips moved slightly, a subtle roll that sent a fresh wave of heat through you, the slickness of his release making every movement impossibly intimate.

Mark stayed buried inside you for a long moment, his breath warm against your neck, both of you trembling as the heat of his release spilled deep into you. The wet, slick sensation was intoxicating, a reminder of how completely he filled you. His hands smoothed up your sides, fingers brushing reverently along your skin as though he couldn’t quite let you go.

Your chest heaved against his, both of you gasping for air. His lips brushed over your collarbone, soft kisses trailing up the side of your neck until he found your mouth again. The kiss was unhurried, wet and lazy, his tongue sliding against yours as he groaned softly, the sound vibrating into your lips.

You shifted beneath him, your hands tracing the curve of his shoulders before settling on his chest, your touch hesitant but purposeful. “I need more,” you whispered, the words trembling on your lips, your voice low and filled with longing. Your hips moved subtly, your thighs tightening against his sides, speaking what you couldn’t fully say.

Mark’s breath hitched, his eyes darkening as his cock twitched inside you, responding to your every movement. He let out a soft, reverent groan, his hands resting on your hips, their warmth grounding you. “Anything you want, baby,” he murmured, his voice raw and laced with devotion. “Take it. Take all of me.” His lips quirked into a faint, almost bashful smile, the edges softened by the way he gazed at you, completely undone. The weight of his hands lingered on your hips as he let you guide him onto his back, his movements slow, as though savoring the shift. His touch remained, steady and reassuring, even as his body surrendered entirely to yours.

His gaze stayed locked on you, heavy-lidded and hungry, as you straddled him. The slickness of your combined arousal made the slide of his cock inside you effortless, your thighs quivering as you began to sink down slowly. A sharp gasp escaped both of you, your nails digging into his chest for balance as you took him to the hilt.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his head tipping back against the pillow, his jaw tightening as he tried to hold himself together. “You’re so—tight. So perfect.”

You started to move, slow bounces that sent his cock dragging against your walls in a way that made your stomach clench. Your thighs trembled as you found a rhythm, your chest brushing his with each roll of your hips. His hands roamed your body, first gripping your hips, then sliding up your back until they settled between your shoulder blades, pulling you closer.

The motion brought your chest flush against his, the heat of his skin pressing into you as his mouth latched onto your nipple. His lips were hot and wet, his tongue swirling over the sensitive peak before sucking hard enough to make you moan, your back arching into him.

“Mark,” you whimpered, your voice breaking as his teeth grazed the stiffened peak. The sharp edge of pain melted into pleasure, a jolt shooting straight to your core. You could feel his cock twitching inside you with every bounce, the sensation making your thighs quiver.

“Keep going,” he murmured against your skin, his voice muffled and rough. “Just like that, baby. Fuck yourself on me.” His words sent a shiver down your spine, the coarseness of them sparking something primal deep inside you.

Your hips moved faster, the slick sound of your bodies meeting filling the room as you rode him. Each upward movement was slow, deliberate, teasing, before you dropped back down, taking him deep. His hands slid lower, gripping your ass to guide your movements, his fingers digging into the soft flesh.

“You like that?” you whispered, your voice trembling as you leaned down, your lips brushing his ear. “Feeling me squeeze you?”

His groan was low, guttural, his hands gripping you tighter as his hips jerked upward to meet your movements. “You’re driving me fucking crazy,” he rasped, his lips latching onto your other nipple, his teeth tugging gently before his tongue soothed the sting.

The angle shifted slightly as you leaned forward, your hips grinding against his in a way that had both of you gasping. Your nails scraped lightly down his chest, leaving faint red marks in their wake, your head tipping back as a moan tore from your throat.

“Mark—so good,” you gasped, your voice high and breathless. The weight of him beneath you, the solid strength of his body, the way his cock filled you with every bounce—it was overwhelming in the best way.

His hands moved to your back, his fingers splayed wide as he held you close. “Come for me again,” he murmured against your skin, his voice rough and commanding. “I want to feel you fall apart.”

The combination of his words, the drag of his cock, and the wet heat of his mouth on your breast pushed you closer to the edge. You rolled your hips harder, faster, the pleasure building to a crescendo as you moved.

Your movements became erratic, your thighs trembling as the knot in your stomach tightened. His mouth left your nipple, his head tipping back to look at you, his dark eyes locking with yours. “That’s it, baby,” he rasped, his voice thick with need. “Take what you need.”

The orgasm tore through you, fierce and unrelenting, leaving you gasping for air as your body trembled with the aftershocks. Your nails dug into Mark’s shoulders, desperate for something to ground you as wave after wave of pleasure rolled over you, blurring the edges of the world. Your walls clamped down around him, drawing a low, guttural groan from his throat, his hips twitching instinctively in response. His hands gripped your hips with a firm, steady pressure, holding you close as he whispered against your skin, his voice thick and raw.

“Just like that, baby,” he murmured, his lips brushing over the curve of your shoulder. “So good for me. So perfect.”

But neither of you was finished, not even close. The heat between you hadn’t dimmed—it had only shifted, deepened, simmering just beneath the surface as Mark pulled you closer. You found yourself in his lap, his hands guiding you with gentle insistence, your thighs tightening around his waist as your bodies pressed together.

His fingers slid between your folds, the slick evidence of your pleasure making his movements smooth and unyielding. Two fingers pushed inside you, curling in just the right way to make your head fall back, a sharp gasp escaping your lips. “Mmm,” he hummed, his voice a low vibration against your neck, his free hand splayed across your lower back to keep you steady. “You’re so tight, baby. Feel how you’re gripping me?” His thumb circled your clit in slow, deliberate strokes, drawing a broken moan from deep within you.

Your hips began to move instinctively, grinding against his hand as his fingers pumped in and out of you, the wet sounds of your arousal mingling with your shaky breaths. The intensity of it built quickly, his movements precise, relentless, as though he knew your body better than you did. “Mark,” you whimpered, your voice high and trembling, your arms wrapping around his neck as you clung to him.

“That’s it,” he cooed, his lips brushing your ear as his fingers plunged deeper, stretching and filling you in a way that made your thighs shake. “Take what you need, baby. Bounce for me—just like that.” His voice was low, coaxing, the rough edge of his tone sending shivers down your spine.

Your thighs clenched tighter around his waist as you began to move, soft, desperate bounces that met the rhythm of his hand. Each movement drove his fingers deeper, brushing against the spot that made you cry out, your hands fisting in his hair as the tension inside you coiled tighter. “Mark, please,” you gasped, your voice cracking as your forehead pressed to his. “I want—everything. Everything with you.”

His fingers stilled for just a moment, his thumb continuing its slow circles over your clit as his gaze locked on yours, intense and searching. “Yeah?” he asked, his voice low and filled with something deeper than lust, something that made your chest ache.

You nodded quickly, breathless, the words tumbling from your lips in a rush. “Yeah. I’ve never been more excited in my life. I want to travel the world with you, go on so many dates, move in together eventually… you make me the happiest I’ve ever been.”

Mark’s lips found yours in a kiss that was slow but consuming, his fingers resuming their rhythm inside you. “You don’t know what that does to me,” he murmured against your mouth, his voice shaking with raw emotion. “Hearing you say that.”

His movements quickened, his palm pressing against you with just the right pressure as his fingers curled and stroked relentlessly, driving you higher and higher. The intensity was overwhelming, your body trembling in his lap as he pushed you closer to the edge once more.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, the pleasure so intense it left you gasping, your nails digging into his back as you clung to him. “Mark, I—” you started, but the words dissolved into a broken cry as the orgasm hit, crashing over you like a wave. Your body spasmed around his fingers, your legs tightening around his waist as tears slipped down your cheeks, the pleasure so all-encompassing it left you shaking in his arms.

His lips found your temple, soft and soothing, as he held you through the aftershocks. “I’ve got you,” he whispered, his voice tender, his hand gently easing out of you as he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you protectively.

As the haze of pleasure began to fade, your forehead rested against his, breaths mingling in the intimate quiet between you. Mark’s hand trailed lazily up your back, his fingers splaying wide as though holding you closer wasn’t just a want, but a need. His gaze found yours, steady and unguarded, a soft warmth flickering in his dark eyes.

“I always wondered,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over the curve of your cheek, his voice low and tender.

“Wondered what?” you asked, your words a whisper, though you could feel the answer in the way he looked at you.

“If this was how it would feel,” he said, his lips barely moving, his voice laced with a quiet vulnerability. “To know you love me back.”

The words settled in the air between you, not heavy but final, as though the world had been holding its breath for this moment alone. It wasn’t loud or dramatic—it didn’t need to be. It was quiet, inevitable, like the way dawn breaks over a sleeping sky, soft and all-consuming. His smile, faint but deeply certain, carried the weight of years unspoken, a truth he no longer had to hold alone. His eyes found yours, raw and impossibly tender, as though the only thing he had ever been searching for had been right here, in this exact moment, looking back at him. And just like that, everything felt complete.

──────────────────────────────

EPILOGUE — SIX MONTHS LATER

The golden sunlight poured through the tall windows of the wedding hall, casting soft shadows across the polished marble floors. The air buzzed with quiet laughter and the clinking of glasses as the couple swayed to their first dance. The moment was picturesque—soft, romantic, and timeless. You lifted your camera, capturing the emotion in a single frame, but your thoughts drifted elsewhere.

Your fingers brushed the delicate ring on your finger, twisting it idly as you smiled to yourself. The simple platinum band with its modest diamond sparkled subtly in the light, catching the warmth of the setting sun through the windows. It wasn’t an engagement ring, though its beauty could have fooled anyone. It was a promise ring, given to you by Mark on the day of your graduation, doubling as both a gift and a vow. He’d slid it onto your finger with a quiet certainty, the gesture filled with meaning. It wasn’t loud or extravagant, but it carried the weight of his love—a promise of the life you were building together, one shared step at a time. Every time you looked at it, you were reminded of him, of everything you had accomplished together, and of the future that was waiting for you both. It was more than jewelry; it was a tangible piece of him, a symbol of trust, devotion, and the deep connection that anchored you both.

The last six months had been transformative. Graduation had brought new beginnings, milestones, and a whirlwind of emotions. Landing your dream job as a destination wedding photographer felt like the perfect match. It allowed you to explore the world, meet new people, and live your passion—capturing love in its most raw, unfiltered form.

And yet, even with a job that took you to breathtaking destinations and gave you incredible experiences, nothing compared to the feeling of being with Mark. The relationship had deepened in ways you couldn’t have imagined. He wasn’t just your boyfriend; he was your home, your partner in every sense. Whether it was the way he held your hand during your lowest moments or the way he made you laugh until your stomach hurt, Mark had become the steady, unshakable presence in your life.

You glanced at the ring again, a soft smile tugging at your lips. Your heart swelled as memories of Mark flooded your mind—his easy smile, his quiet strength, the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the world.

The shoot was running over, and though you loved your work, you couldn’t help but glance at your watch. Tonight was important. Mark had organized a long-overdue reunion for your group of friends to celebrate his and his best friend’s new apartment. It would be the first time since graduation that everyone would be together under one roof. You had seen Mark, Karina, and Jeno one-on-one since then, but this was different. This was a moment to reconnect, to celebrate how far you’d all come.

Finally, the shoot wrapped. After a quick goodbye to the couple, you packed your gear and rushed to Mark’s apartment. It wasn’t just his apartment, of course. Mark and his best friend had been planning this move since they were teenagers. The apartment was their shared dream, years in the making, and despite the initial pang of jealousy you’d felt when he told you, you couldn’t help but support them. After all, you knew their bond was purely platonic—like siblings, even—and you also knew you’d practically be living there anyway.

When you arrived, the sound of the door unlocking was followed by soft footsteps, and then Mark appeared, his face breaking into a smile the second he saw you. His hair was slightly tousled, his sweater hanging loose over his frame, and yet he looked effortlessly perfect—warm, familiar, and entirely yours.

“Hi, my love,” you whispered, stepping closer, your voice soft as your lips brushed against his in a kiss that lingered just a little longer than usual.

His smile deepened against your mouth, his hand coming up to cradle your jaw as though he couldn’t help himself. “Hi, baby,” he murmured, his voice low, every word wrapped in quiet affection. He pressed a second kiss to the corner of your lips, his hand sliding to your waist as he pulled you into a brief but firm hug, his chest solid and comforting against yours.

For a moment, he held you there, his lips brushing your temple as he breathed you in, the quiet hum of the hallway fading away. “Long day?” he asked softly, his hand resting lightly on your back as he pulled away just enough to look at you.

You nodded, smiling up at him. “Better now,” you murmured, the weight of the day melting away under his touch.

He chuckled softly, his fingers tracing absent patterns along your spine as he opened the door wider. “Come, baby,” he said, his tone warm, almost playful. “I’ve got you.”

As you stepped inside, his hand lingered on your lower back, a subtle but grounding presence, guiding you into the glow of the apartment. For a moment, the world outside didn’t matter—it was just you and him, and the quiet, unshakable ease that existed between you.

The apartment was breathtaking in its simplicity, a perfect blend of functionality and charm that felt effortlessly lived-in yet thoughtfully curated. The open-plan living space was awash with a warm, ambient glow, the kind of light that made everything feel softer, cozier. Sleek furniture in neutral tones gave the room a modern edge, but it was the small, personal touches that made it feel like home.

One wall was lined with a floor-to-ceiling shelf, brimming with books of every genre and interspersed with small potted plants, their greenery spilling gently over the edges. The sectional couch, a deep, inviting gray, stretched across the center of the room, its plush cushions scattered with mismatched throw pillows that hinted at both Mark’s practicality and his best friend’s eye for detail.

Above the expansive floor-to-ceiling windows, string lights twinkled faintly, their golden glow reflecting off the glass and spilling onto the light wood floors. The windows framed a stunning view of the city skyline, the distant lights twinkling like stars, creating a sense of endless possibility.

In the corner, a small coffee table bore the remnants of earlier unpacking—a stack of unopened mail, a mug half-full of tea, and a neatly folded throw blanket. The kitchen, visible from the living space, was minimalist but warm, its countertops dotted with personal touches: a fruit bowl, a handwritten grocery list pinned to the fridge, and a vase of fresh flowers that added a pop of color to the neutral palette.

The apartment wasn’t just beautiful; it was alive, a seamless blend of Mark’s quiet strength and his best friend’s vibrant energy. Every detail spoke of care, history, and the promise of shared moments yet to come.

Mark’s best friend emerged from the kitchen, balancing a tray of drinks in her hands, her grin wide and infectious. “Y/N!” she called, her voice warm as she walked over, setting the tray down on the coffee table before pulling you into a tight hug.

“You’ve outdone yourself,” you said, pulling back to glance around the apartment. “This place looks amazing.”

She laughed, brushing a strand of hair from her face, her cheeks glowing with pride. “Thanks. It’s been a lot of work, but it’s worth it.” She grabbed a drink and handed it to you before nudging you playfully. “I hope you’re not jealous, though,” she teased, her tone light but mischievous.

You turned to Mark, giving him an exaggerated glare that made his lips twitch in amusement. “Oh, I’m absolutely jealous,” you deadpanned, pausing just long enough for effect before cracking a smile. “But don’t worry,” you said with a chuckle, raising your drink. “I’ll probably end up practically living here anyway.”

Her laughter echoed through the room, and Mark slipped an arm around your waist, leaning down to murmur, “She’s not wrong.”

The house warming party gradually came to life, the space filling with the sound of laughter, music, and the kind of chatter that only happens among close friends. Karina, unsurprisingly, wasted no time stirring chaos. She wandered from room to room, shuffling picture frames, poking at Mark’s carefully arranged décor, and draping herself over the couch as though it were a chaise lounge in an old painting.

“Karina,” Mark’s best friend called out, half-laughing, half-exasperated as she chased after her. “Put the frame back—that’s not where it goes!”

“I’m adding artistic flair!” Karina declared dramatically, clutching the frame to her chest before spinning away.

“You’re adding stress,” she shot back, earning a round of laughter from everyone else as Karina stuck her tongue out in mock defiance.

Chenle and Ningning arrived not long after, bursting through the door with enough energy to rival Karina’s antics. Ningning’s eyes lit up the moment she saw the apartment. “Wow, this is gorgeous!” she exclaimed, spinning in a slow circle to take it all in. “I mean, who knew Mark had taste?”

“Hey!” Mark protested, though his grin betrayed his amusement.

Ningning ignored him, grabbing Chenle’s arm and dragging him toward the bookshelf. “Okay, let’s see what we’re working with here,” she said, inspecting the books and trinkets with an exaggeratedly critical eye.

“Solid selection,” Chenle remarked, plucking a book from the shelf and flipping through it. “But seriously, who organized this? The color coordination is giving me anxiety.”

Donghyuck and Jaemin, who had been huddled in the corner with their drinks, burst out laughing. “Of course you’d critique a bookshelf,” Donghyuck said, shaking his head. “Let them live, Chenle.”

“You’re just mad because you can’t read,” Chenle shot back, grinning as Jaemin snorted into his drink.

Through the laughter and chaos, your gaze fell on Chenle and Ningning, who were seated on the couch together, their heads tilted close as they spoke in hushed tones. It was impossible not to notice how they seemed to exist in their own little world, their shared smiles and soft laughter radiating something undeniably tender. Chenle leaned in slightly, brushing a stray strand of hair from Ningning’s face, his fingers lingering for just a second too long, while she looked up at him with a warmth that seemed to fill the entire room. Even Donghyuck, notorious for teasing, left them undisturbed, glancing at them with a rare, knowing smile before turning back to his antics.

Mark’s arm never left your waist, a quiet but steady presence that anchored you in the midst of the buzzing party. His fingers would occasionally trace soft patterns against your side, a simple touch that carried so much unspoken love. Every so often, he leaned in to murmur something soft—an observation, a joke, or a quiet compliment meant just for you. At one point, he kissed the side of your head, his lips lingering as he whispered, “I’m so happy,” his voice full of emotion that made your chest tighten.

Across the table, Chenle caught the moment and winked at you, giving a subtle but reassuring nod as if to say, Yeah, he’s completely yours. The warmth of his silent approval made you smile, and for a while, you let yourself be swept into the laughter and joy of the room.

But as your gaze wandered, it landed on Jeno. He was sitting off to the side, a bottle of beer in his hand, his posture deceptively relaxed. Yet his eyes betrayed him, flickering with a distance that didn’t quite match the lively atmosphere around him. He hadn’t joined in much of the conversation, his responses minimal, his laughs quiet.

You noticed the tension more clearly when Mark’s best friend passed by him, her movements visibly stiff, her eyes focused too intently on the space ahead of her. Jeno’s gaze lifted briefly, flicking toward her like a reflex before darting away just as quickly. It wasn’t avoidance—it was something heavier, a silence charged with things unsaid.

You nudged Mark gently, tilting your head toward the pair. “It’s been months. Are they still not talking to each other?” you whispered, keeping your voice low.

Mark followed your gaze, his brow furrowing slightly. He sighed, his fingers tightening briefly around your waist. “Yeah,” he said, his voice tinged with frustration. “They’re both stubborn as hell. They know they went wrong, but neither one wants to be the first to admit it.”

Your heart ached for them. Whatever had fractured between Jeno and Mark’s best friend was more than just stubbornness; it was something that had clearly left a mark on them both. And yet, it wasn’t your place to push—it had to be theirs to fix, in their own time.

Your gaze swept the room, taking in the scene. Chenle and Ningning were tucked together on the couch, their heads tilted close as they exchanged whispered jokes. The way Ningning’s hand brushed Chenle’s arm and the way his smile softened whenever he looked at her made it clear—they were as in love as ever, even in the chaos.

Karina had finally settled down, though not without a bit of playful grumbling, while Donghyuck and Jaemin leaned against the counter, still sharing quiet jokes that made them shake their heads and laugh. Even Jeno, though quieter than the rest, seemed to relax slightly, his lips twitching into a faint smile when Mark’s best friend passed him again. It was small, but it felt like progress.

As the party began to wind down, the warmth in the room only seemed to deepen. It wasn’t loud or flashy; it was the kind of comfort that came from being surrounded by people who knew you, loved you, and had been through every high and low by your side.

Standing by the window, you let your gaze drift over the city lights twinkling in the distance. The skyline stretched endlessly, a perfect backdrop to the quiet hum of contentment that filled your chest.

Mark slipped behind you, his presence a familiar warmth that immediately made you smile. His hands settled on your hips, his thumbs brushing gentle circles through the fabric of your dress. “You look happy,” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear.

“I am,” you whispered, leaning back into him. “This feels right. All of it.”

He pressed a lingering kiss just below your ear, his lips impossibly soft, his breath warm as it danced across your skin. “Wanna test out my new bed in my room?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, though there was a quiet depth beneath the playfulness—an unspoken invitation that sent a shiver down your spine.

You turned to face him, laughter bubbling softly from your lips as your cheeks warmed under the weight of his gaze. His dark eyes held yours, steady and unwavering, the glint in them making your heart stutter. “You’re unbelievable,” you said, shaking your head with a smile that you couldn’t quite hide.

He tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into that familiar, lopsided grin that always felt like home. “So… that’s a yes?” he asked, his tone teasing, though his hands were already sliding to your waist, their touch steady, warm, and grounding. His fingers lingered, curling against the fabric of your dress, pulling you just a little closer.

Before you could answer, his arms moved with effortless ease, sweeping you up in one fluid motion. Your breath hitched in surprise, but the sound dissolved into soft, giddy laughter as you clung to his shoulders.

“Mark!” you murmured, though the sound came out more like a laugh, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt as he held you close.

His grin softened into something darker, his voice dropping as his eyes locked onto yours. “Do you know what I’ve been thinking about all night? Laying you down on that bed, taking my time, and feeling you come apart under me. I want to strip you bare, touch every inch of you, and watch the way your body moves when it’s mine to hold. I’ve been dying to hear those sounds you make, to feel the way you pull me closer, and to leave you trembling from everything I’ve been holding back.”

The heat in his tone made your chest ache, the steady strength of his hold making you feel entirely weightless. He carried you toward the stairs, the hum of the party fading behind you with each step. It wasn’t just his chuckle that filled the quiet—it was the sound of your shared breaths, the quiet intimacy of the moment pressing in around you like a secret the world couldn’t touch.

When he reached the room, he nudged the door open with his foot, and the soft light from the bedside lamp spilled gently across the space. The air carried a delicate mix of vanilla and orange blossom, a sweet, calming scent that was so undeniably him it eased every lingering thought, wrapping you in the quiet comfort of his presence.

Without hesitation, he walked you to the bed, his arms tightening around you briefly before he gently tossed you onto the mattress. You landed with a soft bounce, a laugh spilling from your lips as you propped yourself up on your elbows to meet his gaze.

His grin widened for just a moment before it faded into something softer, something impossibly tender. He braced himself on the mattress, leaning down to hover over you, his dark eyes searching yours as if memorizing every detail. His hand reached out, brushing over your cheek with a reverence that made your breath catch.

“Welcome home,” he murmured, his voice low and sure, yet carrying a tenderness that made your chest ache. There was no hesitation in his words, only the quiet confidence of a man who meant them completely, a certainty that wrapped around you like the warmth of his embrace.

The kiss that followed was unlike any you’d shared before. There was no rush, no lingering urgency—it was deliberate, each movement soft and measured, as if he wanted to savor the moment and etch it into memory. His lips moved against yours in a rhythm that felt unspoken yet deeply familiar, every touch carrying a silent promise of everything he was and everything he wanted to give you.

His hand stayed cradling your cheek, his thumb stroking just beneath your jaw with a softness that left you breathless. It wasn’t just grounding—it was reverent, a silent acknowledgment of the weight of this moment between you. When he finally pulled back, his forehead pressed lightly against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the kind of stillness that felt profound.

“You feel like home,” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly, as if even admitting it made him vulnerable in a way he wasn’t used to. His eyes stayed on yours, unwavering, brimming with something so raw and pure that it left you undone.

As you looked at him, the man who had become an inseparable part of your heart, you felt it too. It wasn’t about the apartment, the milestones you were reaching together, or the quiet dreams you shared late at night. It wasn’t the ring on your finger or the life you were building. It was him—the one constant that made every place, every moment, feel like it mattered.

As you looked up at him—the man who had become your anchor, your safe space, your greatest love—you realized that the apartment, the plans, the life you were building together—they all mattered, but only because they were with him.

In that quiet moment, with his arms around you, you knew you were exactly where you were meant to be—wrapped in his love, completely at home in his embrace.

[ the final instagram posts ]

author’s note —  i can’t believe we’ve reached the end of the seven-part series. writing this has been such an emotional journey, and your support has meant the absolute world to me. thank you for sticking with me, for loving these characters, and for sharing your thoughts along the way—it’s been everything to me. please don’t hold back now; i’d love to hear all your feedback, your favorite moments, and how you feel about the ending. i love you all so much, truly. i’m feeling very emotional rn :( i love you guys

taglist — @bigjugz03 @hyuckkklee @hegdus @sungchannel @kidult0325 @hcluvie @second-floors @xjxnox @keelbeel @hyuckkklee @ahgasezennie @lovetaroandtaemin @steadyparkjisungbookishspy @carelessshootanonymous @remgeolli @toroufriteh @sinsgaybutthatsokay @fancypeacepersona @cathamada @gomdoleemyson @ppeachyttae @strcwberi-deactivated20241207 @yunjinsart @millyswife

[lvnleah]

Endo Struggles | AWFC x teen!reader

Based on this request :)

Summary: After struggling with your periods for a while, your teammates Leah helps you fight for a diagnosis. Eventually, you have surgery and your teammates Leah, Beth and Viv support you.

Warnings: mentions of hospitals, sick, surgery and pain.

Notes: I’ve started my own tag which can be found the end of the fic, make sure to follow it so you can see everything I post and my anon asks! :)

Word count is 3k, this is turning into a mini series :)

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You woke up feeling off, a dull ache rested in your lower abdomen. Last night you’d gotten your period, it was the first in a few months, and because you had no cramps leading up to it you thought you’d gotten off.

Your period was always something you’d struggled from ever since you’d gotten your first when you were eleven. They’d always been painful and irregular but your parents had always blown you off as dramatic and that it was a part of womanhood.

So far it hasn't affected your career at Arsenal due to them being irregular. You’d just turned eighteen when Arsenal offered you your first professional contract. Now, six months later, you were living with Beth and Viv.

The pair had taken you in and made their spare room your own. Your parents lived two hours away from the training ground and with you not driving and them working, you had no way of getting to training.

Despite not knowing you long, Beth and Viv offered for you to move in with them into their flat which you gladly took up. Since then the couple had basically become your parents, most of the time they were more caring and loving than your own.

You laid in bed for a moment, clutching your stomach, before slowly climbing out of bed. Beth and Viv were already in the kitchen, preparing breakfast like usual before you headed to training.

“You okay, Y/N?” Beth asked, raising her eyebrows curiously. “You look in pain…”

Beth and Viv exchanged a concerned glance as you sat down at the kitchen island, still clutching your stomach in pain.

You nodded, your lips closed tight, “Mhm…just super bad period cramp.”

“Are you alright to go to training?” Viv questioned her concern just as bad as Beth’s “it’s okay to have a day off you know.”

“I’ll be okay,” you nodded your head once again as Beth passed you a bowl of cereal, “I just need to take some pain relief and then I’ll be okay.”

The painkillers kicked in, dulling the ache in your abdomen for a while. After breakfast, you travelled to training with Beth and Viv. You had a quick team meeting before heading out to the pitch.

While the team went out to the pitch, you stayed behind to tie your boot laces up. Suddenly, a pain shot through your body, and you collapsed. Cramps twisted your insides, you fell to the ground and curled up into a ball. With your knees to your chest, the pain subsided a tiny bit, and tears started to blur your vision.

Minutes later, Kim and Leah came back into the changing room to grab something but concern etched their faces as they knelt beside you.

“What's wrong?" Kim asked, her voice urgent. “What’s happened, Y/N?”

"Just...period pains," You gasped, trying to downplay it. “I’ll be okay in…a bit.”

The changing room floor was cold against your cheek, and you clung to your knees like a lifeline. Kim and Leah hovered over you, their expressions a mix of worry and confusion.

“Y/N,” Leah said softly, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead. “This isn’t normal. You shouldn’t be in this much pain.”

You tried to sit up, but the cramps tightened their grip. “It’s…it’s just my period. It happens.”

Kim exchanged a glance with Leah, her eyebrows furrowed. “Y/N how long have your periods been like this?”

Tears welled up in your eyes. “Since I was eleven. My parents always said it was part of being a woman.”

Leah rolled her eyes. “Your parents were wrong. This level of pain isn’t normal. You need to see a doctor.”

“But training—” you protested weakly.

Beth and Viv appeared in the doorway, concerned just as much as Leah and Kim. “What’s going on?” Beth asked, kneeling beside you.

“It’s Y/N’s period,” Kim explained. “She’s in agony and her parents have never taken her to the doctors over it.”

Viv’s expression softened. “You don’t have to suffer like this. We’ll take you to the doctor.”

You wanted to protest, to insist that you could tough it out. But the pain was relentless, and you were tired of pretending it was okay. Maybe it was time to seek help.

"These aren't normal," Leah said firmly. "We need a medic."

You groaned in pain, “I’ll be fine…it’ll end soon.”

The team medic arrived, assessing your pain and sending you home. Beth and Viv helped you hobble to their car. The journey was a blur of agony, and you collapsed into bed, grateful for the strong pain relief they'd given you. Sleep claimed you, but it didn't last long.

Before you knew it, your sleep was interrupted and the sharp pain was overtaking your body again. Your room was dimly lit, just a small bit of light peaked through the curtains.

A knock sounded at your door before it pushed open, a tiny bit of light peeked in and Leah stepped through the door.

“Hey kid,” she whispered, sitting on the edge of your bed, “how are you feeling?”

“So..so much pain,” you scrunched your face up, tears threatening to spill once again.

“Y/N have you ever looked into these period pains?” Leah asked. You shook your head, all of your concerns had always been ignored, “Do you think it could be endometriosis?”

You knew Leah had struggled with endometriosis, she’d always been open about it, but being eighteen years old you had no clue what it truly was.

You shrugged, “I don’t really know what endometriosis is, Le.”

Leah sighed, “Well I have stage two, there’s four different stages, so mine is bad but not bad bad. My symptoms started at thirteen, the pain used to be my enemy.” Leah joked.

“I used to roll around in pain, kid,” She said, brushing fallen hair away from your face, “I ended up in A&E so many times, for ages it was just blown off as stress and me being dramatic but after a while endo was brought up. A few years later, and my mum arguing with many different doctors, I was finally diagnosed.”

“Do you think I have it?” you asked, “The pain is so bad.”

“I’m not saying you do,” Leah shrugged, “but it’s worth looking into.”

You nodded your head, still clutching your stomach in pain before nausea overtook you, “I’m going to be sick.”

“Okay okay,” Leah said, gently helping you up, “It’s okay, c’mon let’s get you to the bathroom.”

The room spun, and you barely made it to the bathroom before your stomach rebelled. The pain had escalated from a dull ache to a full-blown assault on your insides. You clung to the toilet bowl, heaving, tears streaming down your face.

Leah was there, her hand on your back, soothing circles. “Easy,” she murmured. “Let it out. I’m here.”

You couldn’t respond, couldn’t even form thoughts. The nausea subsided, leaving you weak and trembling. Leah helped you rinse your mouth, then guided you back to your bed. She tucked the blankets around you, her touch gentle.

“You’re going to be okay,” she whispered. “We’ll figure this out, Y/N.”

You nodded, grateful for her presence. The room felt less lonely with Leah sitting beside you. She didn’t shy away from the messiness, the vomit, the pain. Instead, she held your hand, her eyes filled with empathy.

“Leah,” you croaked, “thank you.”

She smiled, brushing hair from your forehead. “No need to thank me, kid. You’re going to be okay.”

You closed your eyes, exhaustion pulling you under as sleep claimed you once more. The next day, Leah took you to the doctors. At first they were dismissive, putting it down to being stressed and just a teenager.

Leah fought hard, she argued with the doctor and demanded they do a laparoscopy to see if you had any endometriosis growing around your womb, ovaries and pelvis.

They tried you with different medications and birth controls but none of them did anything. Your periods and pain remained the same. The doctors did multiple ultrasounds and none of them showed any signs of endometriosis.

Finally, after some back and forth trips to the doctor, she finally gave in and added you to the long waiting list of other women who were waiting for surgery as well.

Days blurred into weeks and weeks blurred into months as you waited for surgery. You continued to be in pain with your periods, even when you were ovulating you were in excruciating pain. Your pain had been affecting your football career and it was ruling your life.

Finally, your surgery date rolled around after four months of waiting. Beth and Viv were taking you, Leah had promised to be there once you woke up. As for your parents, they told you you'd be fine and didn’t need them there.

“You ready, kid?” Beth asked, as you pulled up outside the hospital.

You nodded, swallowing a lump in your throat, “I guess,” you shrugged, “I’m just nervous.”

Viv turned around in the driver's seat so she could face you as you were sat in the back, “There’s nothing to worry about, you’re going to be just fine.”

“We’re right beside you,” Beth reassured you, “and Leah will be there when you wake up, she’s promised that she will be.”

You nodded and before you knew it, you were in your own private room, waiting to be called in as you sat in the bed with Beth and Viv beside you. You’d been nil by mouth since last night, you couldn’t eat or drink meaning that you were absolutely starving.

“I’m so hungry!” You whined, tilting your head back, “this is so cruel, they’re starving me!”

Beth and Viv both chuckled at your whining, “you can’t eat before surgery, kid.” Viv said, “remember me and Beth were the same before our acl surgeries?”

“Don’t worry,” Beth smiled, “the food after when you wake up will be amazing. We’ll get you whatever you like.

You waited around for at least an hour and during that hour you saw different people. It started off with the anaesthetist coming in to see you. She was a nice lady, she explained the whole process to you and how they’d put you to sleep but it was far too much to take in all at once.

They gave you the option of either anaesthetic through the cannula or through the mask. You opted for the mask, hoping it’d make you less anxious.

Then, your surgeon came in. She ran through the procedure and told you what would happen. She explained that they’d look for endometriosis and if any was found then they’d remove it there and then.

Finally, they did your final basic checks. They weighed you, took your height and blood pressure as well as asking you a range of different questions. After all of that, you had to wait around for another hour and then it was finally time to go down.

“Don’t be scared,” Beth whispered to you as she pulled you into a hug, “you’re going to be fine, I promise. We’ll be here when you wake up with Leah.”

You nodded, letting go of Beth before Viv pulled you into a hug, “I’m so proud of you, kid. We’re going to be right here waiting.”

“I love you both,” you whispered, “thank you for being here.”

“Love you too,” Beth smiled before they rolled you away on the bed.

You entered the operating theatre and there were many people around. There were multiple nurses as well as the surgeon and doctor you’d met earlier on. The nurses helped transfer your onto the operating table before the anaesthetist quickly went over things again.

“Okay Y/N, just count down from ten for me,” she said, placing the mask on your face. You began to count down, your eyelids became heavy and you soon drifted off into what felt like a sleep.

Two hours into your surgery, Leah arrived at the hospital. She made her way upstairs to the room where Beth and Viv were waiting for you.

“Still no Y/N?” Leah asked as she entered the room, a little gift bag in her head.

Beth shook her head in response, “Nope, they said surgery could be anywhere from an hour to six hours.”

“Yeah, mine was two hours long,” Leah nodded, “Hopefully she’s out soon, how was she when she went down?”

“Anxious and scared,” Viv explained, “what’s in the bag?”

“Just some of Y/N’s favourite things,” Leah said, “My mum put one together for me when I had my first endo surgery so I thought it’d be nice for her to have one.”

Eventually, you were rolled back into the room. You were still fast asleep, your braids that Beth had done now slightly falling out.

“How was the surgery?” Leah was the first to ask, concern written all over her face.

“It went well,” the nurse nodded, “she has four incisions but the doctor will be round to give the rundown and results when Y/N is awake.”

Thirty minutes later, you finally woke up. Your eyelids fluttered open, and for a moment, you weren’t sure where you were. The harsh white hospital lights hurt your eyes as you peeled them open, you covered your eyes with the palm of your hand as you let out a groan.

The pain came next. A dull ache that radiated from your abdomen. It was a familiar pain, one you’d felt before during endometriosis flares. But this time, it was post-surgery pain, and it carried with it a sense of relief.

You tried to move, but your body protested. Wires connected you to machines, monitoring your vital signs. The room seemed to tilt, and you closed your eyes, willing the dizziness away.

You tilted your head and Beth and Viv’s faces appeared, Leah soon walked round and joined them.

“Hey kid,” Beth smiled, her voice gentle. “You’re awake.”

Viv squeezed your hand. “How are you feeling?”

You tried to speak, but your throat was dry. Leah grabbed the cup of water that the nurse had left and lifted the straw to your mouth. You took gentle sips of water, washing away the metallic taste and dryness.

“I feel amazinggg,” you sang happily, still a little high from the anaesthesia. “Where am I?”

Beth, Viv and Leah bursted out into laughter, “That good, kid.” Viv nodded. “You’re in the hospital, remember?”

“Oh yeahh! Leahhhh,” you whined, sticking out your tongue. “My tongue hurts, Is it still there?”

Leah nodded. “Your tongue is intact, kid. They didn’t go anywhere near it.”

“Phew,” you sighed dramatically. “Good to know. Now, where’s Myle?”

Beth chuckled. “She’s at home, darling. You’ll see her later.”

Your lower lip jutted out in a pout. “I miss Myle so much! That surgeon better not have taken her.”

Viv squeezed your hand again. “Hey, hey, it’s okay! Myle is safe at home. You’ll be reunited soon.”

“Okay,” you mumbled, closing your eyes. “I love Myle. She’s cute.”

As the anaesthetic wore off, you drifted in and out of sleep. The pain in your abdomen dulled, thanks to the nurses’ timely administration of pain relief. You felt a little more like yourself when the doctor finally entered the room.

“Hey, Y/N,” she greeted, her smile warm. “Is it okay if I discuss your results? Are your friends comfortable staying?”

You nodded, grateful for their presence. “Yes, please. They’re staying.”

The doctor pulled up a chair. “Your surgery was quite extensive,” she began. “We delved deep and found stage three endometriosis. It was growing around your ovaries and pelvis. The pelvic endometriosis explains your back pain, and the ovarian involvement is likely why ovulation has been excruciating for you.”

“But you removed most of it?” you asked, your voice shaky.

“Yes,” she reassured you. “We removed as much as we could. There’s a tiny bit left, but it shouldn’t cause as much pain.”

The room blurred over as tears welled in your eyes, “Will this affect my future?”

The doctor sighed, “I can’t say anything for sure but when the time comes and if you want to have kids you may have some issues conceiving naturally. I’ll leave you to rest up, you should be home before the evening is out.”

You nodded your head and tears began to slip down your cheeks. Leah climbed onto the bed and sat next to you, she pulled you into a tight hug. Leah’s hug was warm, comforting. She knew how to be there for you without saying a word.

“You’re going to be fine, kid.” Beth tried her best to reassure you.

Viv nodded, “Yeah, you’ve got everyone supporting you. At least you can start on getting the pain sorted now.”

“Do you want a goody bag?” Leah asked, “I put you one together!”

You laughed through your tears and nodded your head. Leah handed you a small bag and you opened it up. Inside was a range of different things that you loved. There was your favourite chocolate, some hair ties, fluffy socks, soft pyjamas, chocolate cookies, lip balm and a little stuffed highland cow teddy.

“You guys are amazing.” You smiled, brushing the fluffy highland cow with your hand, “Thank you for today, I’d have been alone without you.”

“You’ll always have us, kid,” Viv smiled, “We’re not going anywhere.”

The days that followed blurred together, a mix of pain medication and soft blankets. You laid in your bed at Viv and Beth’s house, movies played on your telly as Viv, Beth and Leah took it in turns to sit with you.

You had one brief phone call with your parents, one that hurt a lot. You explained what the surgery had resulted in on the phone, you expected at least a tiny bit of sympathy but your parents had none to give. You cried over it, a lot, but as promised Viv, Beth and Leah were right beside you. The three of them made you feel more loved than your parents had ever made you feel.