#but the really good shit only looks like good shit when you have the context first

[yrrtyrrtwhenihrrthrrt]

I've seen some people making some very good points about Vander and his role as a parent to Powder and Vi, especially related to criticisms about how he wasn't as stellar of a parent as the narrative portrays, specifically that he was emotionally neglectful, parentified Vi and failed to connect with Powder. While I think these points are worth discussing, I'd like to offer my own perspective.

Disclaimer: I am not justifying any behavior in the context of a real-life relationship, only within the narrative presented

First off, I don't disagree. Vander doesn't appear to have made a tremendous effort to connect with Powder, and seems to be much closer to Vi and Claggor than her and Mylo, putting a significant amount of responsibility on them (especially Vi, as the oldest) and Vi is definitely far more responsible for her siblings than she should be at her age, with Vander barely supervising them.

However, I think there's a lot of context people like to ignore. First off, this takes place in Zaun. From everything that's implied about Zaun, people don't typically live into old age. If they survive the street violence, enforcer violence, and unsafe working conditions, they're still likely to die or become incapacitated early as a result of Gray poisoning/horrific pollution, as we see with Viktor. Vander worked in the mines, which would make him even worse off.

It's common for average parents, who had their children in their mid-twenties to mid-thirties, to live to see their kids well into middle age, when they will be reliably established as adults and able to care for themselves without guidance. This privilege does not extend to Zaunites. As someone with older parents at birth, I know the importance of older siblings in that situation. Vander needed to prepare Vi and Claggor to be responsible for their siblings and guide them into adulthood, because he knew that he was unlikely to be able to do it himself.

Second, one of the big ethical issues with parentification is that you chose to have kids, and should not subject your older children to the consequences of your choice. Vander... Vander didn't choose to have kids, they're not his biological children, he took them off the street because they had nowhere else to go. I think in real world adoption, the principle still applies, because adoption is also a choice and a lengthy, procedurally dense one at that, but that's not the case here. It really wasn't a choice for Vander, these kids had nowhere else to go. And this is a common theme in Zaun, there are just feral children everywhere, and people just take them in because it's the right thing to do. Everyone is responsible for everyone else. So, his kids needed to learn that same principle, to be responsible for each other, to look out when they are able for those who can't.

And lastly, as for his overall lack of supervision of his ankle-biters, I think... I think that's just a Zaun thing. I'm always so bamboozled when I hear people compare THIS aspect of his parenting negatively to Silco's, when Silco didn't supervise Jinx either. He let her hang out on a giant fan blade like 60 feet in the air and wander off to explode shit whenever she wanted. Benzo also doesn't appear to supervise his very young child, who doesn't even have any older siblings to watch him, and neither Jinx nor Sevika feel the need to keep one single eye on Isha as she runs around the underground doing as she pleases. It seems to just be a part of Zaunite culture, people lose their parents and their parental figures all the time, so they need to be able to look out for themselves.

All this to say there are definitely things worth criticizing about Vander's parenting, but I feel like people are being a little unfair about it.

[ravencromwell]

The poem evokes human greatness and human vulnerability. People are “godlike” in their courage and skill, but even the greatest mortals fall and clutch the dust between their bloody fingers. The beautiful word minunthadios , “short-lived,” is used of both Achilles and Hector, and applies to all of us. We die too soon, and there is no adequate recompense for the terrible, inevitable loss of life. Yet through poetry, the words, actions, and feelings of some long-ago brief lives may be remembered even three thousand years later.

--Emily Wilson's introduction to the Iliad

[cursed-spirit-manipulation]

thinking Abt Suguru autism and struggling bc I have forgotten 1. Everything Suguru has ever done 2. Every symptom of autism ever and then I remembered Suguru fucking. Knows every curse he's swallowed. And it's like y'know what maybe I don't have to make an airtight case for this

[captain-lovelace]

Why are you so afraid of growing old? Is it because of the idea that you’ll be unattractive? Fat? Sick? Because if the answer is any of the above please unpack why you feel that way. You are not immune to fatphobia, ageism, ableism, and body negativity, and your fears are not inherently neutral.

Accept that you have a human body that will change over time. No shut up do it

[keets-writing-corner]

Thinking a LOT about Lucifer in the latest Hazbin episode. Idk what I was expecting but not this??

As I was watching my immediate thought was just "huh... Lucifer is kinda of weird..." but as the episode went on I realized the issue

the dude is off the chain depressed, like he says it as a joke but holy cow it is SO BAD

He's manically just creating rubber ducks cuz his daughter really like it that one time but it's empty, it's never good enough but he keeps doing it, maybe cuz he doesn't know how to pass the time otherwise.

like I get the feeling he HAS better things he SHOULD be doing than making rubber duck after rubber duck. At first I was like, "Bruh why isn't the king of hell doing anything?" aaaaand then it became clear...

The dude is disassociating so bad he can barely hold a conversation let alone remember information. He clearly WANTS to, he wants to be involved with his daughter so bad, he wants to care about the things she's doing so bad, but his depression keeps interfering. It's like he can only hear every other word and he grasps onto the ones he does hear semi-out of context. Like you can see every time he catches something that he hadn't before and he just "well shit I didn't catch that part"

and that's why he reacts so weird when people talk to him. He is struggling so bad to engage with the conversation he's only getting 50% of it

does that look like the face of a man who knows what the hell the conversation is even about??? he is STRUGGLING

like Charlie spent so long telling him about the hotel, and he STILL didn't understand what she wanted. Yeah it comes off as ditzy but literally I've been in that position where your brain just "nope, not doing this right now" and nerfs your conversation comprehension. So as someone who's BEEN in that position, to me it feels exactly like what he's dealing with. He's sorta engaged with the conversation, but only as much as his brain will allow

For example, when I'm dealing with this, this is what someone talking to me feels like this where the crossed out parts are what I missed and bold is what I catch, "Hey! You know I was thinking for dinner we could either make some chicken with rice? But if you don't feel like cooking, pasta is super easy and you love that right? What do you want to do?" you can kinda get that someone is trying to talk to you about dinner, and towards the end you get the impression that they asked something that needs your input so you can decently put 2 and 2 together and try and pass off, but crucial bits were left out, I would have no idea that either chicken or pasta is in the conversation only having heard "rice". When someone is just talking at me, I can decently pass off as being engaged but the second I'm required to participate in the conversation I'm screwed. Seem familiar? At which point I have 2 options, try to give a bullshit answer, or admit that I missed what they were saying and ask them to repeat

Lucifer, unfortunately, is trying so damn hard to hide that he's dealing with like 24/7 dissociation, so he can't admit that he's missing entire chunks of the conversation, hence his really weird replies. He does eventually get the full picture and then he and Charlie start having the real conversation

Also, the Alastor/Lucifer rivalry was hilarious but also really indicative of more of what Lucifer is dealing with

Alastor is, unfortunately, really good at picking up people's insecurities, and thanks to Charlie's description earlier and watching Lucifer clearly trying to overcompensate, he immediately picks up on the fact that Lucifer KNOWS he struggles to be a good dad (we know cuz it's cuz of the depression, hard to be engaged when your brain keeps turning off) and decides to rub salt in the wound by pretending he's been acting as a surrogate father to Charlie. Now why Alastor decided to pick a fight with the king of hell is beyond me, I do not understand Alastor (and I LIKE IT) (maybe it's cuz Alastor thinks he's hot shit and was expecting Lucifer to at least have heard of him but Lucifer just treats him like a nobody? who knows)(why would Lucifer listen to radio anyways when he can't even pay attention to a conversation it'd just be white noise)

But yeah I just was expecting someone who oozed either charisma or presence and instead I got a depressed dad who's dissociating so bad he can barely function and be present in his life. The only thing it seems he CAN do is make rubber ducks cuz his daughter really liked it that one time

Idk Lucifer is tragic to me. Whatever the full details of what heavan did to him absolutely broke him and he can't deal with it. He's aware of it, and he doesn't know how to fix it, so he tries to over compensate and sorta makes an ass out of himself but no one says or does anything cuz this guy is supposed to be THE king of hell

Suddenly it's making a lot more sense why he just rolls over and lets heaven do what it wants and even told Charlie to go in his place the start of the show. He's not in any headspace to hold a basic conversation let alone negotiate! He didn't even know who Alastor was, he's been so out of touch

idk I like him, he seems sweet, I hope Charlie brings some light back into his life. He really needs to get out of that rubber duck room

[heesimp]

saw your post and comment about heehoon getting off together bc they both want yn…that is so hot I want to read that. Please

I want to read that too 😋 I would love to write more of this type of content so please let me know if you’d read it!

warnings: heehoon jerk off together, mentions of wanting to fuck reader and suck on her tits and pussy, mentions of dry humping, blowjob mention, exchange of fantasies, subtle mxm context (they sit next to each other on the couch and watch each other jerk off), mentions of a sex toy, implied share use of a toy at the end.

send in your hard thoughts x

-

“Dude, are you hard?!”

Heeseung looks over to his friend who sits beside him on the couch in nothing but sweatpants and a flimsy t-shirt. The two of them have sat in silence for the past few minutes or so after their friends left their apartment with you in tow, giving them each a hug goodbye as Jay and Jake undoubtedly drove you back to your apartment.

Still, your perfume lingers in the air. It smells somewhere between vanilla and peaches.

The TV has something playing in the background but neither of them can say they’ve been paying much attention to it. Sunghoon’s been scrolling on Instagram for the past few minutes when Heeseung happened to look over at him to ask what he wanted to watch when he saw the slight tent in his roommate’s pants.

Sunghoon looks up, unashamed. He turns his phone towards the elder. “Can you blame me? Look at her?”

Heeseung squints and sees your profile. “Have you been hard this entire time?”

“Since she walked in. Don’t tell me you don’t feel that way either. I always see you looking at her ass when she walks in front of you.”

Heeseung blushes for a moment. “I can’t help it. Her ass is phenomenal and she always wears those short shorts when she comes over.” Sunghoon groans.

“Yeah, the ones where you can see her panties, right? I swear she’s doing it on purpose.”

“Have you two ever…”

Sunghoon nods his head. “Once.” He bites his lip at the memory. “It was late, really late. She was sobering up after getting drunk at our place a few months ago when you were visiting your cousin. I told her she could sleep over since I was too tired to drive and the guys already left.

“What happened next?”

“I insisted she take my bed while I take the couch but she put up a pretty good fight. She insisted I sleep there with her since it’s my apartment and we’re both adults. We ended up dry fucking, man. She woke me up the middle of the night and I think she was having a wet dream or something.”

“Fuck, really?”

Sunghoon nods. “Yeah. Her leg was over mine and she got so shy when she realized we were both awake but I was so hard since her pussy kept rubbing over me.”

“But you two didn’t fuck?”

He groans. “Wish we did but it felt too good to stop. I took off my sweats and tried to get us naked but Y/N kept rubbing herself on me like she was desperate. That shit was so hot. That was the only time I get to see her cum, too. She let me on top of her and I had to pretend that I was fucking her balls deep since our clothes were still on.”

Heeseung curses and pictures himself in this exact position, running a hand through his hair to tug at his roots. “Were her panties wet?”

“Soaked. I could feel her through my boxers.”

“Y/N is too hot for her own good.” Heeseung watches Sunghoon’s cock jump as he readjusts his position on the couch.

“Wish I could touch her, you know? Knowing she he’s really wet turns me on. Shit.”

Heeseung can’t help but think about it. He’s seen you in swimming suits before and it doesn’t take much for him to imagine what you’d look like without them on. His cock stirs in his pants when he thinks about you gushing for him. Something about Sunghoon’s words turn him on too.

“What else do you want to do to her?” Heeseung finds himself asking his friend.

He laugh. “What don’t I want to do to her? I want to suck on her tits, man. It kills me that she doesn’t wear a bra when she comes over because I can see everything, especially when it’s a little cold. Perky nipples and everything.”

“Fuck,” Heeseung moans. “What else?”

“I’d want to eat her cute little pussy too. Fucks me up every time she flashes us with her shorts…I want to know what she feels like on my tongue.”

Heeseung laughs incredulously. “Damn, Hoon. You’re making me hard.” Sunghoon returns the laughter and doesn’t shy away from looking at his friend’s lap. Heeseung is almost as hard as he is but that seems to make him harder. “Is it bad that I want to cum inside of her?”

“No, fuck no it’s not.” Sunghoon bucks his hips involuntarily against his sweats. “Had a dream the other night that Y/N let me fuck her and creamed all over me…Goddamn, it felt so real.”

“Sometimes I think about her when I watch stuff,” Heeseung admits. “It’s better when I can’t see the girl’s face. I pretend it’s Y/N and it always makes me cum the hardest.”

“Me too. I love those twitter videos more than anything. Sometimes I pretend she’s the one who sent it to me.” Sunghoon brings a hand to his hardened cock and palms himself without a care in the world, even if Heeseung’s eyes grow wide at the movement. “C’mon, man. You can’t say you aren’t turned on.”

“Jesus. You jump right into it, huh?”

Sunghoon scoffs. “Don’t sit there and pretend you haven’t gotten off to me bringing girls home. I hear you in your bedroom, you know.” Heeseung laughs as if to challenge him.

“And you can’t say that you haven’t gotten off when I bring girls back.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Sunghoon looks back at your Instagram profile and curses under his breath, gripping his cock above the fabric. Heeseung pulls his phone out to look at you too.

“Her tits are incredible,” Heeseung moans as he brings his hand to palm himself. “I wanna put my dick between them and fuck her like that.”

“Cum all over her tits,” Sunghoon adds. “I’d kill to see her on her knees for me like that. Her tits are my weakness.” Palming himself isn’t nearly enough. “Fuck it.”

Heeseung loses his breath when Sunghoon pulls his hard dick out of his pants. “Woah, now? Don’t you want to like, go to your room or something?”

Sunghoon rolls his eyes. “It’s not like you haven’t seen my cock before. You don’t usually get this shy when we share a girl.”

Fair point. Heeseung pulls his dick out too.

For a minute, the soft sound of the TV permeates throughout the room as the two of them look at your photos and slowly stroke themselves opposite each other on the couch. Heeseung hears Sunghoon grunt under his breath and hold back a deeper moans when his thumb swipes over his swollen slit that drools precum.

Heeseung’s cock is just as hard. His fingers grip himself with fervor and for just a moment, he pretends it’s your hand that’s stroking him. He imagines the look you’d give him if you were on your knees before him and throws his head back when he moans.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Sunghoon asks as he twists his wrist to stroke himself better. “Fuck, thinking about her always gets me so hard.”

“Want her mouth on me,” Heeseung says in a broken moan. “Her cute little mouth is always telling us off but fuuuuck. She should use it on me instead.”

Sunghoon squeezes himself at the base and flickers his gaze from his phone to his too to watch even more precum ooze out of himself. Thinking about you like this gets always makes him incredibly hard and wet. He can only imagine what would happen if he got the chance to fuck you.

The sounds of their arousal splashing against their cocks as their hand moves up and down is the loudest sound in the room and neither Heeseung nor Sunghoon can for certain say they aren’t turned on by it. In the past, they’ve had their fair share of threesomes with girls they’ve met at parties and past hookups who’ve expressed interest in fucking two guys at the same time, but never have they ever found themselves in a predicament like this.

You are the common denominator within their friend group. Somehow, senior year of university brought the give of you together after an assigned group project in one of your classes that forced you all to spend a good majority of your time together, slaving away for a good grade. The semester ended but the five of you still continued to see each other, project be damned.

Both of them are pretty sure Jay and Jake probably have a thing for you too. You’re hot, smart, and really funny. You’re everything any guy could ever want and it’s always a shame that you’ve preferred to keep to yourself instead of become as promiscuous as the four of them, even if they don’t judge you for it.

Sunghoon speeds up his hand and throws his phone down on the couch to cup his balls. “Ah, damn. I’m close.”

“Me too,” Heeseung breathes. He puts his phone down too and mimics Sunghoon by squeezing his own balls, pretending it was you getting him off. “You wanna cum together?”

“Goddamn,” Sunghoon says with a laugh as his arm flexes. “Why do I find that really hot?”

“Imagine if Y/N was here with us.” Heeseung licks his lips and zeroes in on Sunghoon’s cock, imagining as it disappears inside of your pussy. “Imagine if we both came in her.”

“Always wanted to try that double penetration shit. Shame we didn’t do that before.”

“Soon,” Heeseung promises. “Y/N looks like the kind of girl who’d be into that. If she let you dry hump her then I’ll bet she’s let us fuck her pussy at the same time.”

The logic doesn’t make any sense but neither of them care. They squeeze themselves until choked moans become louder than the TV in front of them.

Heeseung cums with white tall spurts ruining the hem of his shirt but the wet stain doesn’t bother him. At the same time, Sunghoon spills out much slower, his cum seeping out of himself like a water fountain as it dribbles onto his hand. Heeseung watches his friend continue rubbing himself while he spreads his cum down his cock and onto his balls.

Both of them regain their breathes and feel strangely turned on by the events that just transpired. Heeseung finds himself wondering what Sunghoon would look like when he’s got you underneath him. He tugs at his cock at the thought and surprised himself when he doesn’t soften up.

Sunghoon smiles wickedly at Heeseung when he sees his friend’s cock twitching, his own dick remaining hard. “Wanna go again?”

“You want to jerk off again?”

He nods and stands up from the couch. Sunghoon pulls his pants up just comfortably enough until they rest below his ballsack and walks to his room, leaving a dumbfounded Heeseung sitting on the couch in his soiled boxers until he Sunghoon comes back out with a toy that looks a lot like a woman’s torso, ass, and pussy.

“Fuck, you actually own one of those things?!”

Sunghoon nods. “I use it when I get off to porn. Don’t you have anything?”

“Just a fleshlight but I’ve always wondered what those feel like.”

“Kinda like the real thing by more rubbery and smooth, obviously.” Sunghoon holds it up for Heeseung. “Since you mentioned double penetration…”

Heeseung cuts him off. “Let’s practice.”

***

please reblog and leave a comment if you enjoyed :)

[mickyschumacher]

𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐅𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 .ೃ࿐

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: after seeing you with play with some young fans you and charles meet on the streets of monaco, charles can't get his mind off having his own. or in which, charles has got a case of the baby fever. 𝐏𝐓. 𝟐 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄!

��𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: established relationship, fluff, 18+ (minors DNI), unprotected sex (wrap it if u don't want babies), breeding kink (obvi), charles meeting the bare minimum requirement to be a good human (lmao), slight lactation kink, mutual orgasms, handjob, pussy rubbing(?), reader is sensitive as shit, google translated french (my bad to the french speakers), a questionable perversion of having children that always comes with this context, also questionable whether this qualifies as baby fever but yeh

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: charles leclerc x fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 3k+

𝐀/𝐍: wrote this one when i first started if you can't tell by the mention of pedro and tlou! my absence explained in another post! ♡︎

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

⋆  •°.  。  .°•  ⋆

Charles loved his fans, especially Tifosi. After you, his family and friends, they were the most important people in his lives and constantly motivated him. Most of them were kind and sweet to him and loved and cherished you more than they loved him.

That's why whenever fans asked for photos with you, the both of you or autographs, Charles always accepted. He rarely refused them unless the fans gave off a certain vibe that rubbed him the wrong way; crazed fans or fans who liked you a little bit too much for his liking.

His favourite fans normally, however, were children. It was definitely pressurising to have that many children look up to him but Charles found it rewarding. They were so young and full of dreams that he could help fulfil. They always looked at him wide-eyed with their jaws open as if they had just seen an angel walk by, similarly to how Charles reacted when he had first seen you in the streets of Monaco.

Today was no exception. It was currently the mid-season break and you two were roaming the partially empty streets after having breakfast out, relishing in the privacy of Monaco. Halfway through your walk, you and Charles had bumped into some small fans, literally.

A set of 3-year old twin sisters and a boy who only seemed a year or two older had run to Charles and you yelling 'Charles!' and 'It's Ferrari!'.

Charles instantly was smiling at them, crouching down to talk to them and entertain all their bombarding questions that flew one after the other.

"Is the car really that fast?"

"Can I go in the car?!"

"I hope you win!"

You chuckled softly as Charles answered them with ease. You looked at the parents who also seemed to be equally as excited as their children. "Do you want me to take a photo for you guys?" You inquired softly.

The parents looked at you with wide eyes. "Can you? If it's no bother!" The father fretted, sharing a slightly alarmed expression with his wife.

You shook your head and smiled. "It's not a problem." They held out their phone and you took it into your hands, opening the camera. You hummed as you looked at the group. "Let's do three photos. One with the three angels, one with the parents and one family one?" You asked.

The parents were about to nod when the kids suddenly refused. "Four! We want one with a pretty girl!" One of the sisters yelled out, pointing at you.

Your mouth fell open while your body flushed with slight embarrassment. Charles grinned at you, agreeing with the children profusely. You gave a playful sigh and nodded. The children and parents began to poise for the camera several times and left the last one for you to take a selfie with them.

The parents turned to Charles, inviting him into a conversation as they apologised for the kids running to him all of a sudden.

You could hear Charles say it was fine when you felt a tug at the bottom your dress. You crouched down to the children who now crowded you.

The boy looked at you wide-eyed while the two girls poked your arm and asked "Are you a princess?"

You smiled softly. "I am!" You implored, "How did you know?" You asked in a hushed tone.

The children giggled. "Princesses are always pretty, that's why!" The boy said with red cheeks.

You hummed, pondering over the statement. You brought your hand out to pat the girls' heads and pinch the little boy's chubby cheeks. "That must mean all of you are also princesses and princes, hmm?"

The children cheered in agreement, giggling to themselves before discussing who was the best prince or princesses out of them all.

"I'm the best prince!" One sister said, putting her hands on her hips in determination. Her older brother looked at her almost offended. "How can that be? I'm the best. I'm older."

The other sister looked at her siblings dumbfounded. "Why can't we all be the best?" She sighed.

You grinned at her answer. "You're right! You are all the best. Equally. You know why?" You asked.

Three pair of big eyes looked at you with curiosity swirling within them as they shook their small heads 'no'.

You brought their hands together and held them in your palm. "Because you're siblings. You're family. That's the best."

The kids stared at you blankly, probably trying digest your words as much as they could at that age. The previous sister smiled widely, letting out a deafening yell, running to her mother. "Did you hear that, maman? We're all the best!" She screamed with joy.

You stood from the ground slowly, grinning at all the kids. "I did. We all heard that, ma cherié. It's true!" The mother chorused, giving you a thankful smile.

You smiled in response, shaking your head as if it was nothing. The parents and kids began to say goodbye to you and Charles, although the latter did so rather reluctantly as you walked over to your boyfriend.

You raised a brow at the dazed expression on Charles' face. "Cha? Mon amour, what's going on in that head of yours?" You hooked your arm with his, resting your head on his shoulder.

Charles blinked. "Hmm? Oh, nothing. Just thinking about those kids. Cute, right?" He breathed out, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

You smiled. "Very," You agreed as the two of you began to walk to Charles' car.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Arriving home, the two of you decided to lounge in your living room, not bothered to do anything else for the day. You had managed to put on the newest episode of 'The Last of Us', eager to find out what was happening next.

You and Charles laid on the couch; your head resting on his chest while he cuddled you from behind. You were intently watching Pedro Pascal after being besieged with edit after edit of him on TikTok. Charles on the other hand wasn't focusing at all.

All he could think about what those kids you and him had met earlier that morning. Specifically, you conversing with them. You hadn't realised since you were so caught up with them, but at one point him and the parents had stopped talking and tuned into your conversation with the kids.

Charles had talked to you about kids before. You both wanted them and although Charles always talked about having three kids specifically, just like him and his brothers, he would leave it up to whatever you wanted because at the end of the day, it was you giving birth, not him. He would prefer to have children when he was slightly a bit more older, you both had more control over his life, and obviously with at least one championship under his belt.

But after today, Charles was prepared to throw that plan away. As lewd as it was, the idea of you getting you pregnant and having a family not only touched his heart, but immorally touched his cock.

Knowing that he would have to ensure that his cum was entirely within you, stuffed into your cervix, and not letting a single drop come out made him feel feral. To make matters worse, you would look like a goddess when pregnant because hell, you were so beautiful now. Round and full with his child because he made sure to fuck you till you were overflowing with his cum. Or when your breasts became heavy and sensitive to his touch, leaking sporadically, giving him the opportunity to clean you up with his mouth.

God, he was an animal. The worst.

"Charles, what are you doing?" Your voice erupted into the air, breaking him out of his deep train of thought.

Charles blinked at your question in confusion before he looked down, seeing his hand traversing under your dress and up your inner thigh. He looked over to your amused eyes peering at him.

"Sorry," He let out with a sigh, rubbing the warm flesh of your thigh softly. "I just... I can't stop thinking about children."

You raised a brow, not seeing the correlation to Charles' wondering hand. "Children?" You iterated, running a hand through his hair.

Charles shut his eyes at your actions, feeling at ease. "Those kids today... make me want our own children. Now. I want to have children now."

Charles peeked his eyes open, looking at your astounded expression with a bit of fear. "What about our plans? What was it? Thirty-three, a championship, lives under control, and then children?" You queried. "I-I'm not mad or anything, Cha. Just curious. Why the change of heart all of sudden?

You had now turned to face Charles, knees on either side of him, straddling his lap as you became fully attentive to him.

Charles played with the tresses of your hair that had fallen past your face before tucking them gently behind your ear. "You would just make such a good mother, mon ange. You're so sweet and kind. You now how to talk to them. God, pregnancy would look so good on you. I can't stop thinking about you pregnant," Charles let out a small moan a thought. "You all round with our child, hormonal, sensitive at my touch."

Charles' fingers brushed over your neck, making you shudder involuntarily. You melted at his words. Charles thought a great deal of you. You weren't opposed to the idea either, in fact all of his words were making you hornier by the minute.

"You know what?" You queried, "I also want to have children. You would make an amazing father, Cha. I know you would," You softly said, pressing a brief kiss to his lips.

Charles pulled away, boring his gaze into you. "Yeah?" He whispered, eyes soft and full of lust and love.

"Yeah," You repeated. "A father of all three," You teased, giving him a small knowing smile.

Charles' eyes darkened slightly at your words. His hands rested on your hips, his half-hard on in his pants turned harder, pressing into your clothed pussy. "Mon amour," He whispered into your ear, making the hairs on your body stand straight. "Should I fuck a baby into you?" He pulled his face back, waiting for your answer.

You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip, relishing in his words. "If you're going to fuck a baby in me, Charles, you better do it right the first time."

Charles groaned, grinning at your words. Staring at you with a fiery gaze, he quickly brought you down into a hungry kiss. His grip on your hips tightened while your hands became entangled in his hair. Another groan fell against your lips when you tugged at his locks.

Your heart slammed against your chest, beating loudly in your ears. Your skin was heated with Charles' touch ravaging all over you; grazing your arms, squeezing your ass only for you to press further into him. Your stomach surged with desire, feeling his clothed cock grind into you. "Fuck," Your swollen lips uttered out, high with an intoxicating buzz circulating your veins.

"Charles, I need–" You began only to be cut off by your own whimper as Charles bucked his hips up into you, setting a pace of stimulation with the tent of his pants and the gritty material of his shorts.

Charles smiled at the sight of your head thrown back and your back arching. "What do you need, ma cherié? Hmm? Tell me and I'll give it to you, my love," He sighed out, feeling his cock ache in its restraints.

"Fuck, j'ai besoin de ta bite, Charles," You murmured, feeling the temperature of your body rise with every passing second. Fuck, I need your cock, Charles.

Charles grinned at your use of French so early on. Normally when you were nearing your climax, you would lose yourself to all the French you knew. "As you wish, princesse," He stated. "Let's get this off, hmm?" He began to slid down the straps of your dress, pressing warm kisses on your shoulder. The sight of your bare breasts made him sigh in content, licking a strip from the base of your neck and down the valley of your breasts.

You felt a shiver crawl up your spine, feeling Charles' hands wander down your back while he pushed the fabric past your ass, hooking his fingers under your the waistband of your panties. You lifted your body up, aiding him in getting rid of your dress and underwear.

You settled back down on Charles' lap, pushing your wet core against his clothed cock. Charles nipped at your neck, dazed at the feeling of your pussy on him. Your hands reached out, rushing to get those shorts and shirt off of him. Pulling his shirt of him, you placed a trail of kisses down his chest. You could feel his lower stomach tense as you neared his waistband. With a grin, impatiently, you took off his shorts and the boxers underneath.

Your stomach churned and pussy throbbed at Charles' red, aching cock springing up, begging to be touched. You flickered your sultry gaze to your boyfriend, reaching over to put your fingers in his mouth.

Charles maintained eye-contact, lubing your fingers generously with his spit before he felt a shudder rip through him when you teasingly pushed your pussy to graze the angry tip of his cock.

"Vous taquinez," Charles uttered out almost with a whine after you removed your fingers. You tease.

"Don't be too sad, mon amour," You breathed out, trailing your wet fingers over his v-line before wrapping them around his cock. Charles sucked in a sharp breath as your hand began move up and down his shaft, mixing his spit and his pre-cum together, giving him a new, unique shine of his own.

"You wanted to see me pregnant, right? Full of your cum. So pregnant that everyone will know in a few months that you fucked me that good," You started, eyes trained on him while you pumped his cock with a tantalising grip. "We need a lot of your cum today. I'm just getting you prepared," You purred.

Charles let out a series of high moans, letting your words wash all over him and mix with his euphoria. His fingers reached out to your wet folds, stroking your heated slip with need. You trembled at his touch, bucking your hip against his fingers, increasing the pace of your hand on his cock.

Both of you moaned loudly while you jerked each other off, breathy sounds bouncing off the walls of your apartment. "Merde," Charles swore, pressing his head further into the couch, hips sensitively bucking into your hand as you brushed the slit of his cock.

He pushed himself, refusing to slack at your pleasure. He rubbed your pussy, groaning at the wet, glistening folds that were coating his fingers. You moaned, feeling a familiar buzzing pool in your stomach. "I need to," Charles panted out, covering your hand with his to stop you, "I need to..." He trailed off once again, pulling you closer to him.

Charles could barely think straight. He didn't know what he was saying or what he was doing. All he knew was that he needed to feel your pussy against his cock.

A guttural whimper escaped your mouth when Charles rubbed his cock against your folds. God, the both of you could get off just like this. He sighed out, eyes clouded with pleasure while he bathed in the warmth of your pussy. He could feel you jerk time to time against him, sensitive from nearing your climax.

You were was a sight to behold. You couldn't control your hips or yourself. You were just so receptive, automatically rubbing your pussy and clit up and down the head of cock. Your head falling back, supported by air while your back arched with lust. Sweat clung to your warmed body and your dry hair was now coated in a light sheen of grease. Face contorted with pleasure and flushed with heat.

"I'm gonna cum, fuck," Charles hissed out, partially angry that he already was about to climax but how could he not at such a view and feeling?

You blinked through your pleasure, remembering how you had gotten into this situation in the first place. You pushed your hips to him, hovering over his cock and sliding down onto him. You whimpered, feeling full with his throbbing cock in you.

Charles groaned, feeling your warm walls clench around him as you began to move your hips up and down. He watched your breasts bounce, making him flicker to that thought of them being full with milk once he got you pregnant. He would be selfish and have a taste of them himself.

Your pussy was a siphon, drawing and pulling his cock even further into you. Charles placed his hands on your hips, pushing you down on his cock to ensure he was balls-deep within you, fully sheathed. The breathy air was now replaced with both of your lewd moans and the sound of your skin slapping and sticking against one another.

"Merde, merde," Charles began to chant, increasing the pace of his hips snapping and rutting into your folds. Your hands fell to his own hands, tightening around them as pleasure bubbled at the pits of your stomach.

"Fuck, Charles. Cum in me, mon amour. Fais de moi une mère. Hmm? Imagine it. I'll be even more sensitive, my tits will be heavy and sore with milk and I'll ask you to massage them... everyone will know what we did," You moaned loudly. Make me a mother.

Charles's hips came to a halt, shaking with pleasure while he poured ropes and ropes of his hot cum deep into your walls. He let out staggered moans, feeling you clench around him and take even more of his load. Charles pressed his swollen lips onto your, kissing you dizzy while he thrusted out his high, ensuring his cum was staying within you.

Charles sighed out, pressing his forehead against yours. Realising you were once again on the brink of cumming, with his cock still in you, he brought his fingers to your engorged clit, rubbing the sensitive nub gently yet harshly.

He felt your walls grip him even tighter if possible as you began to convulse in his arms. "Jesus fucking Christ," You sobbed out, waves of your euphoric climax hitting you.

Christ, you were so sensitive, hips jerking up against his fingers, grinding to maximise your stimulation. He couldn't even stop you if he wanted to.

"Merde, ma cherié, cum for me. Yes, just like that," Charles coaxed, groaning as you somehow managed to get more cum out of him.

You let out a final whimper before collapsing onto him, feeling Charles' softening cock drive and push the cum deeper into you. You let out a low moan against his chest.

Charles pushed your chin up with his finger, looking into your eyes. He smiled, pressing a slow, soft kiss to your lips. "You did so well, mon amour," He praised, running a hand through your sweaty hair, getting a better glance of your face.

You gave him a weak smile, peering up at him through your eyelashes. "You think we did a good job?" You queried, voice quiet and tired. "You think we'll have a child soon?"

Charles grinned at you, planting another kiss on the side of your head. "If I didn't, I'll fuck you again and make sure that test has two lines."

𝐏𝐓. 𝟐 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄!

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

[inazuma-fulgur]

Bigger, longer videos and essays are something we see disappearing and becoming unpopular more and more with "technological advances" of social media or just about anything.

Fast consumption without thinking, before you even get the chance to log off the next think gets shoved into your face

And like without thinking is something I wanna get at. If everything around you is short and flat and mostly self contained, impossible to compare to other things, impossible to utilize in other contexts and to compare other things amongst each other with. Basically if no nuanced, bigger picture thought and appropriate analytical skill get shown and taught to anyone anymore we will become unable or maybe just too distracted to critique anything in a meaningful way.

If nothing is connected anymore and everything becomes a unique completely individual occurrence there are no trends to criticize.

Even if things aren't unique that doesn't matter much if that is the only way someone can judge and understand the world, so they're unable to find trends and systematic issues. Because those concepts don't exist on short form content platforms.

[spookyscarydemonbabe]

Filthy

Summary- Eddie gets a stomach dropping call from you, asking to pick you up and take you home from the party you were invited to. As soon as he arrives, he can see just how awful your night must’ve been. *i was informed that there’s two definitions for what a ‘Pig Party’ is so for context, a pig party is where guys only invite ‘unattractive’ girls*

Genre- Hurt/Comfort

Warnings- mentions of sa (nothing explicit), awful frat guys doing awful things

Tag List- @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @munsonology @esme-viridian @gvf23 @wheels-of-despair @goatsmcgee @flawiette

(if you’d like to be added to the tag list please let me know 🖤)

Word Count- 4.6k

“That’s not fair!” Grant whined from his spot at the lunch table, “Why do you get to go to some big college party and not us?!”

“Because,” You had said once again with an eye roll, “I was the only one that got invited. Besides, it’s supposed to be a date. I think?”

“You think?” Jeff asked after sipping from his can of Pepsi.

“Yeah, i mean the guy didn’t ask officially if i wanted to go as a date, he just said i looked like i’d fit in and he’d love to bring me.”

“Who even is this guy?” Eddie asked with a shrug, his arms crossed over his chest.

“His names Chris, i met him at the mall last weekend. Why, you mad he got to me first?” You said with a grin, noticing the dusting of pink on the apples of Eddie’s cheeks the moment you mentioned your college boys name.

“No, i’m asking because we’ve never met the guy, and to be honest with you… i don’t think he’d walk up to any random girl and ask them to go to some party with him.”

The table went quiet for a moment.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You asked, your tone easily giving away your anger.

“Dude, i’d shut it if i were you.” Gareth said quietly to Eddie.

“No,” You said as you leaned back on your chair, eyebrows furrowed in frustration and your arms crossed over your chest as you waited for a response from Eddie, “I want him to explain himself. What, am i not pretty enough to get approached by college guys?”

“I didn’t say that!” Eddie argued.

“What is it then, are you jealous of him? Or maybe you’re just pissed because i got invited to a college party and you only show up when they need drugs?”

“Hey, quiet down (y/n).” Jeff whispered to you, trying his best to calm the situation down before it got any worse.

“No! I’m tired of you always being such an asshole whenever shit like this happens. You’re supposed to be my friend, you’re supposed to be happy for me when things like this happen but every fucking time you always get so pissy about it.” You stood up quickly, the metal legs of your chair screeching on the linoleum floor as you grabbed your bag, “Talk to me again when you decide to stop being a child.”

You hit his shoulder hard as you walked past, the boys staring as they watched you exit the cafeteria and enter the halls through the double doors. Gareth turned to Eddie with an annoyed look in his eyes,

“Again? Really?”

“What?!” Eddie yelled out, “What did i do?!”

“Eddie, she’s right. Every time something good happens to her, especially when it’s got something to do with some guy, you manage to get yourself bitched at because you’re too much of a pussy to actually tell her you like her.”

“I do not!” Eddie argued back. The raised eyebrows and frustrated stares were enough to tell Eddie that he really did do the same thing every time. Without even noticing. “…Do i?”

“Yes!” The three shouted in unison.

“That’s what happens when you don’t accept that you like her…” Jeff chuckled to himself, teasing Eddie as the other boys joined in a laugh.

“Oh please, like you guys don’t get jealous about stuff like that too.” Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, but at least we don’t have to see and talk to the girls we like every day. You do. That’s why it’s different.” Grant joked, clearly trying to get a rise out of Eddie.

“Me and (y/n) are just friends. That’s it. Always have been… Always will be.” Eddie sighed.

“You hesitated.” Gareth chuckled.

“Shut the fuck up. You’re wrong, we’re friends. I don’t know why i get like that, i just can’t help it.” Eddie shrugged and slumped in his seat, so unsure of himself.

The thought of you being with him had never crossed his mind, but the signs were there. He thought back on all the other times he’d been an asshole to you over something like this, and the guys were right, it always had something to do with you being involved with some guy.

“Whatever man, if you gotta tell yourself that to be happy then so be it.” Gareth smiled and downed the last of the can of Dr. Pepper in front of him before standing to clear the table. The other boys followed suit, clearing the lunch table before grabbing their things and heading off to class.

Eddie was never the school type, but now he couldn’t keep his thoughts straight. All he could think about was you.

Did he like you?

He couldn’t. Like he had always said, you were just friends. Every guy gets a little irritated when their friend blows them off to hang out with someone else. Every guy gets jealous when hearing about how good a date was the night before. Every guy can’t help but get nervous when their friend asks how they look when trying on a new dress. Every guy gets tense when their arms get grabbed to keep together in the halls.

Didn’t they?

All he could think about was every single interaction the two of you had since you’ve met, and wether he wanted to admit it or not, every single thing was an indication of a crush. And he hated knowing that not only were the guys right to be teasing him about something so childish, but he hated knowing how you must’ve felt whenever he treated you badly.

The rest of the day was a blur.

He managed to finish classes, drive home, and lay in bed staring at the ceiling without any perception of time. He didn’t even notice Wayne calling into his room nearly 30 minutes ago to tell him dinner was ready.

It consumed him.

You. How he treated you. And how he shouldn’t have been stupid enough for even himself to not notice how much he really liked you. All he had hoped was that this was something he could apologize for. It was definitely deserved.

As Eddie sighed and finally sat up on the edge of his bed, he jumped in surprise from the sudden ringing of the phone in the hall. He checked the clock and saw that it was already 7 pm, and at this point Wayne would’ve been gone for work.

He stood and stretched, wandering into the hall and taking the phone off of the handset at its fourth ring.

“Hello?” He groaned out.

“Eddie?…”

His attention was grabbed immediately. As soon as he heard your voice whimper his name on the other end he was filled with a mixture of relief and concern.

“Hey, (y/n), are you ok?”

“No…” He could hear a faint sniffle, and the shakiness of your voice was indication enough for him to tell that tears had been shed, “Can you please come get me?”

“Yeah! Yes, of course, where are you?” Eddie frantically searched for his keys, pulling the spiral cord as far as it could go into his room as he grabbed his jacket.

“I’m at that party… 247 Stewart Street, it’s just past the mall…”

“I’ll be right there! Stay put ok? I’ll be there in less than 15, i promise.”

Eddie hung up the phone and quickly ran outside to the van, shoving the key into the ignition and pulling out as fast as he could onto the gravel road. He didn’t know what happened, but he did know that whatever happened to make you so uncomfortable and worried enough to call him of all people it must’ve been bad.

He sped out onto the road, not even bothering to pay attention to the stop signs unless he knew there was a cop waiting around the corner. He didn’t want to take any chances of anything else happening, or god forbid something else happening to you. Eddie was just thankful that he could tell exactly which house it was on the street.

It was a larger house near the end of the street, cars filled the driveway and out on the lawn he saw a few girls comforting each other as one stood in the middle. Her cheeks were red and her eyes filled with tears. Whatever happened inside, it couldn’t be good.

He parked the van in front of the driveway, blocking in the freshly waxed cars that were parked so neatly with his van. It may have been a shitbox, but it made a damn good barricade.

Eddie couldn’t help the anger bubbling up inside. This was more than just a little tiff happening and you needed him for backup, you gave him a cry for help and there was no way in hell he was going to ignore it. He took one last deep breath to calm himself, or at least to keep him from immediately throwing punches as soon as the front door opened.

His fist pounded on the door and he stood there and waited with his arms crossed over his chest. At least he knew that given his reputation he could be pretty intimidating. The door slowly opened and a college age looking boy opened the door with a smile and a half filled red solo cup in hand,

“Can i help you?” He smirked, looking Eddie up and down.

“Where’s (y/n)?” Eddie said sternly, more like a demand than a question for whoever this boy was and the gaggle of clones behind him.

“Oh!” He laughed, “Yeah, her. She locked herself in the bathroom down the hall,” The boy stepped back and held his arm out to welcome Eddie inside, pointing him in the direction of the door beneath the stairs, “She’s all yours.” He laughed before taking a swig from his cup.

Eddie wandered inside, not before ‘accidentally’ bumping into this stranger and causing whatever drink was left in the cup to spill all down the front of his polo.

The other guys inside were all the same. Drunk, rich, and certainly not paying any attention to any of the girls that they had asked to come to this party. Eddie noticed a few others sitting on the den couch together silently.

He leaned into the bathroom door and rapped his knuckles against it gently,

“(y/n)? It’s Eddie, you in there?”

Without a second to catch his breath the door swung open and your arms wrapped tightly around his torso. He couldn’t get a good look at your face, but your eyes were swollen and your cheeks red. You must’ve been crying in there until he had come to get you.

“Please take me home…” You whispered up to him without even as much as looking at him.

His arm went around your shoulder to guide you out the door, your face looking down at the ground, shielding yourself from the smiling and snickering faces of the boys around you. Eddie could feel your arms grip him tighter as one of them said ‘Bye (y/n)’ in a mocking tone.

To say he was pissed would be the least of it.

Eddie slowly walked you out to the van, opening the passenger side door for you and helping you inside. He had finally noticed how put together you looked, how your makeup had been smeared down your cheeks from the tears, how your dress was bunched up at the end in your hands. He needed to know what the hell happened inside to not only cause you so much despair, but the other girls too.

He walked around to the drivers side and slammed his door, sitting there in silence for a moment before turning over to you,

“What happened in there (y/n)?” You could hear how concerned he was, but having to repeat the events from earlier would’ve made you break down again.

“Nothing… Just please, take me home…” You said quietly.

“No.” Eddie said angrily, grabbing your attention, “Tell me what happened.”

“Eddie please…”

“(y/n), the last time we talked today you stormed off so pissed at me it seemed like you never wanted to breathe the same air as me. You call me, sobbing, telling me to come get you at a place i know you’ve never been to. That house is full of drunk assholes and every other girl here is in the same position you are, meanwhile they’re all inside being buddy-buddy and having the time of their lives. What did they do to you?”

He needed to hear it from you that you were alright, but your silence was only scaring him more. Your eyes shut tight as you took a deep breath, a few stray tears falling down your cheeks as you thought over the last hour once more in your head. It was so difficult to say, but you knew Eddie wouldn’t leave you alone until he knew what the problem was.

“(y/n), please.” He was pleading with you to speak, “Did they hurt you? Did they… touch you?”

“No.” You whimpered.

“Tell me.” Eddie wasn’t asking, he was demanding. Not for your own good, but for those assholes inside.

You took one last deep breath, your head resting in your hand as your arm propped you up against the passenger side door.

“Everything was fine at first. That guy Chris, the one from the mall, picked me up and kept telling me about how it was gonna be such a great night.” You paused for an eye roll and a quick wipe away of the tears starting to pool in your eyes again, “All the guys inside already had their dates there, and they’re all super nice girls, and we all really got along so we were with each other having a good time while the guys were in the other room. They said they were getting the last big thing set up for all of us.” Eddie listened so intently on every word, giving you all the time you needed and as many breaks to sniffle or recollect your thoughts as you needed, “When they called us into that main dining room the table was set up and in the middle of the room…” You paused and shut your eyes tight, shaking your head in disbelief that something like that had actually been thought out and planned by those assholes, “there was a pig that had a crown on it and they tied a name tag to it that said ‘Michelle’. It was a pig party and i guess she was the ‘winner’.” You said with air quotes, looking out Eddie’s window and seeing her crying in the yard, quickly pointing over to her. “That’s her. She’s really nice, she’s a freshman studying Biochem at their college.”

To say Eddie was enraged would be the least of it.

How dare they humiliate not only you, but all those other girls they had invited. Eddie knew how excited you were about this, and he can’t imagine how all those other girls felt when you finally realized the real reason why they were invited. Not one of them deserved to be treated this way, and he was shocked to see how pretty all those girls were. They were people too, and no one deserves to feel that way.

Eddie peered out his window and saw Michelle and her friends start to calm her down. Each one of them was dressed up so nicely, their hair and makeup done. They must’ve been getting ready for hours for this, only to be shot down the moment they set foot through the door.

He’d handle this.

“I’ll be back.” He said through gritted teeth, quickly reaching over and grabbing something from the glovebox before slamming the door behind him.

“Eddie…” You said with concern, not wanting this to turn into another night where the cops were called, “Eddie.” You followed behind him quickly, leaving the van after him.

He turned to you and grabbed your shoulders,

“(y/n). I can handle this.” Eddie looked into your eyes, and you could sense that though he wanted to rip them a new one, he wasn’t going to end up in handcuffs by the end of the night, “Tell the other girls they can wait in the van, there should be enough seats, and just wait for me. Ok?”

You took a slow, deep breath, nodding your head as you glanced over to Michelle and the other girls on the lawn,

“Ok. I’m trusting you to not get yourself in trouble again.”

“I won’t.” Eddie flashed you a smile that told you all you needed to hear. He can take care of this.

You parted ways, you wandering over to the group of girls on the lawn as Eddie walked back up to the front door. Just as he was about to knock, the girls sitting on the sofa inside had gathered and made their way outside, flinching a bit as they saw Eddie at the door. He offered them a sympathetic smile as they walked over to you and the group of girls on the lawn. Eddie put on his game face, and he was thankful his over the top acting from DMing so many sessions would finally pay off.

“Hey!” He said with a smile to the same guy that answered the door for him, “(y/n) just told me all about this party,” He leaned in with a cheeky smile still on his face, “you were really able to pull this off that easily huh?”

“Yeah man!” He replied, obviously drunk, “And it was so easy too! Who are you by the way?”

“Oh, I’m Michael,” Eddie was quick to think up a fake name, “she called me to come pick her up but honestly… It’s too funny to not call up my friends and tell them about it.” Eddie laughed along with Chris, happy that his act was going over so well. “Can i use your phone man? The whole school needs to know about this.”

“Go ahead, in the kitchen,” Chris hiccuped as he pointed down the hall, “should be on the wall. Help yourself go this stuff too man, you’re welcome to stay.” Chris chuckled, “And you know, if you want, i can put in a good word with the head of the frat for you. We definitely could use someone like you here.”

Eddie nodded as a quick ‘thank you’ and wandered through the maze of other sloppy drunks to the kitchen phone. He recognized a few faces from a couple of deals he made over the summer, he was just hoping they didn’t recognize him. As Eddie entered the kitchen he could see the pig still in the dining room, the wooden plank with Michelle’s name on it was still hung around its neck. He was disgusted, but if he got this far, he knew the rest of the plan would work out.

Eddie took the phone off the handset and quickly dialed in Gareths number, hoping he wouldn’t take forever to pick up.

“Hello?” Gareth said, confused as to who could’ve been calling him this late.

“Hey, it’s Eddie. Call up the guys and be at the diner in 20.”

“What? Eddie, it’s like 9 o’clock at night, why?”

“I’ll explain when i get there. Something happened with (y/n) at that party, and now i’ve got a van full of girls that need some knights in shining armor.”

“Done. See you in 20.”

Eddie chuckled quietly to himself as he turned his body to the wall, making sure no one could see him punch in the number of Hawkins’ police station. They picked up on the first ring, and Eddie smiled as he placed his hand into his pocket, palming the baggie he took from the glovebox.

“Hawkins Police,” Eddie recognized the voice from his various encounters and adjusted himself to fix his voice, “what is your emergency?”

“Hi,” Eddie deepened his voice enough to make himself sound more grown up, maybe then they’d take it a little more seriously, “there’s a house just down the street from mine and they’re having some kind of party? They’re loud, they’re obnoxious, and to be frank, i wouldn’t be surprised if they were smoking some funny stuff in there too. There was smoke billowing out the upstairs window like a chimney!”

“Thank you sir, what’s the address?”

Eddie grinned wide and relayed the fraternity address back to the officer on the other end. For someone with a decent amount of run ins with them before, talking to the cops was a lot easier than he thought. Especially when he wasn’t the one in trouble.

He hung up the phone and cleared his throat, holding the baggie tight in his pocket to keep it secure as he glanced around to find the perfect hiding spot for it. As soon as he spotted one of the letterman jackets across the back of a chair he knew it was the perfect obvious spot for one of these idiots to stash a bag of weed. And enough to get them put away, at least for the night.

Eddie made himself seem so comfortable in there he figured they wouldn’t bat an eye if he had been wandering for a bit. He approached the jacket, passing the pig through the dining room as it lay underneath the table snoring away. It was so much easier than he thought it would’ve been.

Just as quickly as he came in, he made sure to get himself out of there quickly. Not before putting on his little act again as he said ‘goodbye’ to the few of them that were able to slur their words out as best as they could. With all the liquor they’ve had combined with that weed stashed in the pocket of whatever poor asshole the jacket belonged to, he was certain justice would be served. Rightfully this time.

Just before Eddie made his way out the door, Chris gave him a wave and called him over, clearly drunk. As badly as he wanted to leave, he had to keep this act up. Eddie wandered over to him with a smile on his face, grabbing Chris’ hand as he stuck it out for Eddie to take,

“Leaving? Already?”

“Yeah, i gotta get home,” Eddie groaned, “thanks for letting me use your phone, this’ll be all over the school by tomorrow.” He said with a laugh.

“Perfect.” Chris said with a smile, doing his best to keep his words clear, “And remember, if you want, i’ll put in a good word for you next year. Make sure they don’t go to hard on you with the hazing.” He said with a wink before patting Eddie on the back and going back to fill his solo cup.

Eddie nodded and swiftly made his way out the door, seeing the girls no longer on the lawn calmed his nerves a little bit. He glanced back to the house as he walked to the van, smiling big to you as he climbed into the drivers seat.

“Let’s get out of here, i called the cops so they should be here any minute.”

“Oh god, what did you do?” You groaned as he started up the van, you and the girls in the back rows of seats quickly buckling in. You made sure to warn them of Eddie driving the moment they stepped inside.

“You know,” Eddie shrugged as he made a quick u-turn to leave the subdivision, “left them a little parting gift hidden in one of their jackets.”

“You didn’t.” You couldn’t help the smile slowly tugging at your lips. Good, they deserved whatever they have coming to them. “Eddie, these are the girls .” You motioned to the group of six girls in the rows behind you, “Girls, this is Eddie. He’s gonna take us all home.” The other girls behind you offered kind smiles and quiet ‘hellos’ as Eddie smiled and nodded his head to them.

“Oh yeah, about that, change of plans.”

You snapped your head back to face him with a look of confusion on yours and the other girls faces,

“What do you mean?” You asked him, and he could hear the slight worry in your voice.

“I called some friends up, they’re gonna meet us at the diner. I know it’s not the fanciest place,” He glanced up in the rear view mirror to look at the girls in the back of the van, “but i feel bad for how those guys treated you back there. Besides, you all got dressed up and you look good, i didn’t want that to go to waste.”

The girls smiled to themselves, and even you were blushing at how sweet it was of Eddie to still make sure you had the best night that you could. Especially under the earlier circumstances.

The drive to the diner was short, and as Eddie pulled the van in you saw Gareth, Jeff and Grant leaned up against Jeff’s car in the parking lot. They had seen you from the passenger side and gave their usual smiles and waves, and you knew from the way they had looked more put together than normal that Eddie had to have mentioned there would be girls involved. They approached the van as Eddie put it into park and he quickly stepped out, rushing over to the other side to slide open the back door for the girls before opening the passenger door for you.

“Thank you.” You said with a smile as Eddie held his arm out to assist. You turned to the girls as they started to slowly make their way out of the van, “Girls, this is Jeff, Gareth and Grant,” You said as the boys approached the van with smiles on their faces as each one of the girls made their way out, “they’re friends of mine, they’re very nice.”

Each of the boys gave them a kind smile and the girls gave them one back, trying their best to make sure that they still looked good after being at that party. But they were excited to know that there were at least a few more nice guys out there, and with you vouching for them they knew that it would be so much better being around them than with those frat boys.

As you all slowly made your way inside, each of the boys with a girl on either side of them, you trailed back with Eddie as they all got more acquainted with one another.

“Hey,” You grabbed Eddie’s forearm and gently pulled him back, “thank you, for everything tonight. I know i was kind of bitchy at school today…”

“No, don’t apologize! I’m sorry for always being so pissy, i guess i just don’t know what comes over me whenever you mention stuff like that.” He shrugged, and though he knew exactly why he always acted that way, he didn’t want to drop it all on you at once. After the night you’d had, you needed something else on your mind.

“You know,” You say teasingly, taking a step closer, “i think it might be jealousy.”

“Jealous?” Eddie laughed, “(y/n), i’m not jealous.” You stared him down for a moment with a smile on your face, your arms crossing over your chest. Eddie knew when he was found out. “Ok, fine. Maybe i might be just a little bit jealous. Happy?” He smiled.

“Very.” You shrugged, taking one last step to close the gap between you two, planting a quick kiss onto his cheek, “Come on,” You grasped his arm and tugged it as you made your way to the door, “You can make it up to me with a milkshake.”

[lightseoul]

hi! please could you do number 7 with the mc having a ghost-related quirk??

decided to quickly write this one just in time for halloween! i hope y'all enjoy this little piece amidst the boop war we all find ourselves in right now lol. thank you for playing n have a nice day <3

(this is lightseoul's 2k milestone event ft. bakugou katsuki! to play, view the numbered list of prompts here, then simply send an ask with your chosen number and i'll whip something up!)

7. "THE GHOSTS WOULD DISAGREE WITH YOU." (1.3k)

“you’re a fucking weirdo, you know that?”

you don’t even look up from the churro you’re munching on, opting to ignore the ash-blonde sitting right next to your left.

“what,” he continues, and if you didn’t know any better, he’s starting to sound a little annoyed. “you’re not even gonna defend yourself?”

what you’re not about to do is tell him you’ve heard that taunt over and over again growing up, lest you end up seeming pitiful, which you aren’t.

so you merely shrug. “i don’t see the point. i know it’s not true.”

at that, you finally glance at the man, who’s looking nothing short of speechless under the dim light of the lounge that’s decked out with ‘spooky’ embellishments.

cute is the first thing that comes to mind.

he just fucking insulted you is the next.

still, you can’t help the smile that takes over your features. “you’re the weird one, anyway. why would you say that to your date?”

bakugou promptly breaks eye contact, choosing to stare at the human skeleton that’s conveniently parked at the corner of the room. you follow his line of vision, and you have to stop yourself from snorting at the sight.

the people manning this haunted house-themed attraction sure took budget decorating to the next level.

beside you, the pro-hero huffs. “i’m only saying that because this is your idea of a good first date,” he gestures vaguely to your surroundings, an incredulous expression on his face as he tosses you a pointed look. “a horror escape room? really?”

“what?” you say, trying to sound the slightest bit defensive for the sake of it. “it gives us plenty of excuses to get closer.”

whatever bakugou expected you to say in response, it surely wasn’t that.

the man only splutters, quickly diverting his gaze and plopping back against his seat with his muscled arms folded across his broad chest like a petulant child.

he then mutters something that you wouldn’t have caught for the life of you if it weren’t for the thing.

you grin.

“you wanted me to latch onto you for safety? you could’ve just said so.”

almost instantaneously, bakugou whips to stare at you, an absolutely horrified expression etched all over his face.

“what the fuck?”

you flash him the most innocent look you can muster. “what?”

he’s now glaring at you, but there’s no missing the redness that has crept up the high planes of his cheeks. he opens his mouth as if to say something but hesitates. he tries again, gaze fixated on you for a couple more seconds until he shakes his head in disbelief.

“…there’s no fucking way.”

you shrug again, but bakugou only stares at you, eyes squinting in suspicion. “unless…”

and, in a blink of an eye you almost could’ve missed it if you weren’t staring at him yourself, you see profound realization dawn on his features.

you gulp despite yourself.

“you have a fucking quirk?”

the truth must have been written all over your exterior, because the man leans back in slow motion like the way one would when faced with a relatively shocking revelation.

you rub at the back of your neck, suddenly feeling too self-conscious. this was the part that always made you feel uncomfortable, no matter what the context.

but especially during a first date.

“i never said i was quirkless…”

“yeah, no shit,” he retorts, not missing a single bit. “what is it, superior hearing or something?”

you shake your head slowly, “no, but it does make me privy to things that i don’t perceive with my own senses.”

bakugou’s eyebrows furrow in what you think is confusion. “what else?”

“uh—” you pause, eyes drifting down to your fiddling fingers, “—i can also levitate, be invisible, and permeate through things.”

when he doesn’t say anything for a moment, you finally chance a glance at the man, and he’s looking honest-to-god gagged.

pro-hero dynamight is fucking gagged and it’s because of you.

before he can get a word in, though, you quickly follow it up with: “but they make me so nauseous that i can barely pull them off. they’re useless, really.”

when you’re met with nothing but silence, you continue.

“i know,” you chuckle, although it comes out awkward and stilted. “it’s weird. you’re right, after all. i was just messing with you.”

more silence.

not knowing what else to do or say, you take a huge bite of your pastry, although you’re far from hungry, stomach now churning in embarrassment.

you’re in the middle of chewing the remnants of your last bite when bakugou finally speaks up.

now, you’ve heard about how the #9 pro-hero, despite his aggression and temper and generally unpleasant personality, is exceptionally intelligent, perceptive, and intuitive, but you never really thought much about it.

not even when you found out a few hours earlier that the blind date your friends set you up with was your distant superior dynamight himself.

and while you always had a thing for capable men, you didn’t want to fall early and hard lest you hurt yourself in the process. so you merely pushed back against the prejudices and expectations you had of him, and decided to just observe the person who was actually in front of you for the rest of your date.

but when he says the next thing, everything you’ve heard about him suddenly makes sense.

“…so it’s a ghost quirk.”

you don’t even get the opportunity to choke on your churro or gape at him because bakugou shakes his head so fervently, before: “that’s such a fucking waste.”

“e-excuse me?”

at your query, he locks eyes with you. “you have a strong-ass quirk, yet you’re working in admin for us. you could be doing more.”

a thousand questions fight to escape your lips, but what manages to emerge victorious is: “how’d you know i’m working admin for ground riot?”

bakugou scowls at you, but again, there’s that scarlet on his cheeks. he doesn’t answer your question, though, instead going for: “that’s your fucking takeaway?”

you shrug, not knowing what else to say. “i know my quirk is strong. but i was always made to feel like i was weird and creepy for it growing up—and until now, actually, which is why i don’t really talk about it—so i just learned not to use it.”

“well, most of it,” you add, and bakugou cocks his head to the side in question.

you take a shaky inhale.

“…ghosts still choose to talk to me.”

“that how you pick up on things beyond your five senses?”

you try not to gawk at him and at how fast he put two and two together. “…yeah.”

neither of you says anything for a few moments before bakugou finally shifts in his seat, rolling his shoulders back.

as he does so, he pipes up with: “well, i guess they’re not always accurate, though.”

you frown. although you rarely use your quirk, you still pride yourself in your capacity. “what do you mean?”

at that, bakugou turns to regard you, an unidentifiable expression on his face. “i did not want you to latch onto me.”

this time, you really can’t help it. you snort, and that grants you a glower from the pro-hero. you take it in stride, though, waving him off.

“sure, big guy.”

“don’t—” he sits up, “fucking—i’m serious—”

“yeah, but the ghosts—” he throws you a punch, which you dodge, “would disagree—” you dodge another, “ with you—” he barely misses you, “—though,” you finally finish.

and really, you don’t even need your trusty ghosts to know that—the blush that’s taken over the entirety of his face is all the proof you need.

[ariestrxsh]

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⚠️ content warning: ⚠️ smut, humiliation, degradation, sneaking around, use of sex toy, edging, ruined orgasm, enemies to lovers, bratttamer!matt, mean!matt, roughdom!matt

📝 author's note: 📝 here are parts one and two. i'm sorry i kept you guys waiting so long for part three. please enjoy and please read the other two stories for build up and context. :)

✍️ Summary: ✍️ After staying the night in a heated sexual encounter with your arch nemesis, Matt Sturniolo, the two of you now have to keep up the charade in front of his brothers.

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hatef--k part three

The rest of the night was calm. Matt helped me move my laundry along, gave me back my clothes, and apologized for being a dick. "Hey, I'm sorry about hiding your towel and shit. That was kinda the meanest thing I've ever done to you," Matt smiled, probably recalling what it led to. It was actually the first time Matt had ever apologized to me for anything.

"Don't be sorry. I liked it. And if you're sorry, that's kind of a turn off," I looked up at him with a twinkle in my eye and a devilish grin plastered on my face, still riding a high from the incredibly passionate sex we'd just had.

"But you seemed legit mad," he looked at me, confused. "Well, I was mad. And I liked it. Both things are true. That's part of the game, isn't it?" I rhetorically asked. Matt smirked at me.

He knew exactly what I was talking about. It was just the first time either of us had really acknowledged the dynamic for what it was. If Matt and I really didn't like each other, we'd feel indifferent in the other's presence. But the only difference between disliking someone and hating them is passion.

Matt still did little things to frustrate me and tease me the rest of the night, like constantly moving my phone in random places, or tapping me on one shoulder but standing behind me on the opposite side. I'd roll my eyes at him and slug him in the arm, but there was something about the banter that was more playful than before.

"Did you wanna sleep with me in my bed tonight?" Matt asked, avoiding eye contact and fidgeting with his rings. "Why the fuck would I wanna do that?" I asked, but I was smiling.

"Because you're a little whore, and you might want something to rub up against while you're dreaming about how I just fucked you," Matt teased me, tickling my side. "Only if you keep your hands to yourself, perv," I joked back.

I fell asleep next to Matt in his bed that night. We did try to keep our hands to ourselves, but there were a few times in our slumber where I felt him poking me in my backside with his cock, and I did find myself mindlessly rubbing up against his hip bone like a dog in heat.

Finally, around 9 a.m. the next day, I woke up to the sunshine pouring into Matt's room, and I rolled over to greet him. He looked like he had also just woken up, and his eyes hadn't yet adjusted to the brightness.

"You know, I was joking when I told you I thought you were gonna rub up against me in your sleep, but you actually did it. Fucking whore," Matt teased me in his morning voice and let out a mean chuckle. "Yeah, and when I told you to keep your hands to yourself, I meant your hard on, too, perv," I rolled my eyes at him and smiled, intoxicated by the sleepiness that lingered in his words.

We heard a few noises downstairs, indicating someone had just walked in the door. Matt and I looked at each other wide-eyed, and I immediately jumped out of his bed, grabbing anything that was mine or anything that indicated I might have slept in there and booked it to Nick's room.

I frantically threw the blankets and pillows about on the bed to make it look slept in, splashed some cold water on my face in the bathroom, and stepped out to see Nick ascending the stairs in a white t-shirt, jeans, a leather jacket, and sunglasses. He always looked like a movie star. "Oh, hey. Good to see you awake. And alive," Nick laughed, stopping in the hallway. "Yeah, good to see you too," I lied.

I was definitely hoping to get another round with Matt in before either brother got home.

"Is Matt up yet?" Nick asked, motioning towards Matt's closed bedroom door. "Hmm. I don't know. Haven't seen him since last night," I lied again. Nick glided across the carpet and made his way to his room. "Jesus, was the bed comfortable? It looks like a tornado hit in here while you were sleeping," Nick joked, looking at the sheets in complete dissaray. "No, your bed was great!" I lied once more.

I had no idea if his bed was comfortable or not, considering the first time I'd stepped into his room was two minutes prior.

"I slept fine. I guess I just toss and turn a lot," I nervously laughed. Matt abruptly opened his door, startling me. My face grew hot, and my breath grew shallow. I could hear my heart thumping quickly in my chest, afraid Nick would pick up on the sudden energy shift between Matt and me.

"Hey Nick," Matt said, rubbing his eyes. "Good to see you guys didn't kill each other while we were gone," Nick said. "She tried, actually. Good thing I'm a light sleeper," Matt joked. "Move out of the way, freak. You're blocking the bathroom," Matt said, pushing past me. "Make sure you spend extra time in there. You look like shit," I responded rudely.

"Was he mean to you?" Nick asked after Matt closed the door behind him. "Not anymore than usual," I nonchalantly said. I don't know, Nick, do you consider your brother throwing me up against the wall and choking me and calling me a slut while he fucked me, mean? Because I don't know how to answer any of your questions right now.

Nick was one of those people I never lied to, but in just the past five minutes, I'd fabricated all my answers. I didn't like the act of lying, but I got excited at the idea of having a secret that nobody knew about besides Matt and me.

My phone, placed strategically on Nick's nightstand, started buzzing. It was a call from the company who was working on my water issue. "Hello?" I picked up the phone. "Hey, miss. Your water is back on, and it's all good to go. Sorry for the inconvenience," the man said over the phone. "Oh, no problem. Thanks for the update," I responded, staring Nick in the eyes, and I hung up.

"Damn," I fake sighed. "They said it's gonna be at least another day until I have running water in my apartment." Why stop lying now? "Don't worry about it. Why don't you just stay here another night?" Nick suggested, which was exactly what I was hoping he'd say. "We'll just have Matt drive you over to your apartment and get anything you need," he told me. I like the way you think, Nick.

"Oh, yeah. Matt will love that," I said, rolling my eyes but also smiling because I loved pissing him off. "What will I love?" Matt asked, walking out of the bathroom and past Nick's room. "Hey Matt, my water's still out, and Nick here, just offered to have you drive me over to my place real quick, so I can pick up some things I'll need to stay here another night. You don't have a problem with that, do you?" I taunted him, batting my eyelashes and smiling.

"I'd rather shoot myself in the foot, but I'll do it for my wonderful brother here who loves to help people by volunteering me to help them," Matt slapped Nick on the back and gave him a look. "Let's go, brat," Matt rolled his eyes and motioned for me to come towards him. Matt pushed the front door closed on me as I trailed behind him out to the yard. "Fuck you, Matt," I muttered.

Once we were outside and Nick couldn't hear us, Matt turned around, held me by my neck, and said, "What the fuck did you just say to me?" I loved the feeling of his fist tightening around my throat while he spoke to me through gritted teeth. "I said, fuck you, Matt," I repeated. "I'm gonna make you pay for that one later," he smirked, loosening his grip and getting into the car. Jesus, way to make me instantly wet, Matt.

I hopped into the passenger seat, Matt connected his phone and started playing some music, but as soon as he pulled out of the driveway, I disconnected his phone and started connecting my own. "What the fuck!?" Matt yelled, pushing my hands away from the display monitor.

"Hey, both hands on the wheel," I smiled, tickling his side and causing him to swerve. "You're gonna make me crash," Matt barked at me. "You're gonna make yourself crash. You focus on driving. We're listening to TV Girl," I said, putting on 'Cigarettes out the Window.'

"Whatever. At least it's not as annoying as some of the shit you listen to," he rolled his eyes. We pulled up to my apartment. "Wait here. I'll be just a few minutes," I told him. I didn't need much, just a pair of lounging clothes, since all the laundry over at the Sturniolos' was either gymware or my work clothes, so I picked out a tank top and shorts to sleep in. And my vibrator. God, I needed my vibrator. I knew it would be risky, but in case I didn't get to fool around with Matt that night if everyone was home, at least the vibrator was a less risky route.

As soon as I went to reach for it off the top shelf in my closet, I felt a presence come up behind me, and I immediately whipped around. "Jesus, Matt. You scared the fuck out of me," I said embarrassed as I tried to hide my vibrator behind my back. "What do we have here?" Matt said walking up to me as if he were going to hug me, but he reached around my waist and grabbed my vibrator from behind me. "Is this what you use when you think about me?" Matt teased me, examining it.

"Shut the fuck up, Matt," I rolled my eyes at him. "You know, the funniest thing happened when I walked in," Matt whispered. I looked at him inquisitively, unsure of what he was going to say next. "I turned on your faucet, and your water is just fine," Matt replied.

"I know. They called me this morning. I lied to Nick," I admitted, looking away from him. "Why'd you lie?" Matt asked, raising his eyebrows, thinking he already knew the answer. "Oh, you know, trying to save a few bucks on my water bill this month," I giggled and bit my lip.

"Bullshit. I think you were gonna prance around my house, wearing this little white tank top with no bra and these little shorts," Matt said, pointing at my clothes on the bed, "and I think you were gonna tease me all fucking night, and I'm sure you were gonna plan for me to catch you using this on yourself, huh?" He held my vibrator in front of my face. "Anything for me to fuck you silly again, huh? Are you that desperate for my cock?" Matt replied in a condescending tone. God, he was turning me on.

"Stand fucking still, you cheap little whore," Matt ordered me while he pulled down my bottoms, including my underwear. He stood behind me, his hot breath hitting the side of my neck. With one hand, he held my arms behind my back, restraining my wrists and with the other, he turned on my vibrator. Having been stripped down to nothing but my t-shirt and having Matt hindering any movement of my arms while he studied my favorite sex toy brought me to a whole new level of humiliation, and I couldn't get enough of it.

He rested my buzzing toy on my cunt, and I immediately felt my knees grow weak. He leaned in and whispered, "You're such a naughty girl. Lying to Nick. Telling me to go fuck myself. Running around my house being a little tease." I looked up at him lingering over my shoulder and let out a few soft whimpers. "You like making me angry, don't you? You love being punished when you misbehave, huh?" He cooed, and I bit my lip and nodded. "What would Nick say, knowing you lied to him so you could have another chance to get dicked down by me, huh? What do you think he'd think of you, hmm?" He teased me.

I felt the vibrations torturing my clit, reverberating throughout my being, and inching me closer to the edge with every word Matt gruffly whispered in my ear. My moans became more fervent and more desperate. "Please, Matt. I'm so close," I softly responded.

"Well, isn't that a damn shame?" He said, letting go of my wrists and turning off my vibrator, ruining my orgasm. "Put your clothes back on, whore. We should get back before Nick wonders what's taking so long," Matt smirked at me and handed me back my toy.

taglist: @sturniolo-girl @st9niolos @theyluvme-2315 @luvs4matt @mattsbrowser @ribread03 @slutforsturnioloss @inlovewcock

part four posted here 💖

[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

[bookshelf-dust]

healing

billy hargrove x gn!reader

word count: 5,445

warnings: swearing, smoking, mentions of past trauma (starcourt), slight sexual innuendos??

a/n: hi! remember when i made you do a poll for my 1k celebration? and one bed with billy won? well this is that fic! i'm sorry it took so long to get here, but school was kicking the ever loving shit out of me. anyways, i really hope you like it. it's a little different than other fics i've written, but i think that's a good thing. just for context, this is post the end of season three, with billy and hopper being okay and jopper being in full swing. i think that's all i wanted to say. thanks again for 1k followers. that's still so wild to me. i love you. and billy loves you too <333

————

November 1985

“No.”

“What do you mean no? You just fought an interdimensional being, don’t you want a vacation?” 

Lucas wipes both hands down his face, flopping down on the arm of the couch beside where Max sits with El between her knees, tying off one of the two braids she’s trying to make. 

“Max, can you help me? Please?” Lucas has been arguing about this for fifteen minutes. 

She rolls her eyes, but looks up from her work nonetheless. “Billy.”

The man in question crosses his arms, locking eyes with the redhead. “Maxine.”

Max finishes Eleven’s braid and she hops up to join Will where he’s working on a puzzle. Joyce brought it home from work a few days ago, and it’s been spread out on a card table in the corner of the living room since then. Will couldn’t watch The Golden Girls with Joyce from the kitchen table. 

“Just come with us, Billy. We all know you hate it here. It’ll give you a chance to get away for a little while.”

Except that’s not totally the truth. He doesn’t hate it here. Not with you around. 

“There’s a pool.” Will looks up, a little shyly, from the puzzle, fingers flipping around a single piece. “At the place Robin found.” 

Billy nods, and it’s enough to make Will smile at the acknowledgment. 

It’d been Steve’s idea, after everything that happened in July. He thought everyone going on a trip together might be a good idea. Go a little ways out from home, calm down. 

You and Billy started going to school, though Billy is still working. He found a job at a record store across the street from Melvald’s that opened after the mall went to shit. It definitely wasn’t his first choice, but it works. And he’s slowly fixing up the Camaro. 

Steve had offered to pay for the repairs in full, considering he did most of the damage when he rammed the side of it, but Billy couldn’t handle that. So far Max has only convinced him to let Steve cover the really expensive parts. It hurts Billy more than he’d care to admit—having Steve Harrington give him money. 

But he can’t lie, going somewhere away from Hawkins, even just for a couple days, sounds really nice. It’s the group part that’s bothering him. He’s still not used to everyone wanting him to tag along, but apparently major trauma brings people together.

There’s the slamming of car doors, and footsteps running up the driveway before the door swings open, Robin bursting in with a stack of movies in her arms. She’s followed by Dustin and then Steve, bags and keys being tossed every which way. 

Billy doesn’t see you for a moment and starts to worry maybe you aren’t coming. He’s already supplying excuses for having to go home, but Steve left the door ajar, and after a moment, there you are. 

You look sleepy, footsteps the quietest of everyone else as you carefully push the Byers’ door shut behind you. He watches as you accept a hug from Eleven, overhears her ask, “how did your test go?” 

He’s happy to hear you tell her it went well. It’s only after you’ve looked at her and Will’s puzzle and snapped a few more corner pieces in that you make a beeline for the open spot on the couch beside Billy. 

When you’ve settled, your knee bumps against his. “Hey.”

He looks at you, a little grin playing at the corners of his mouth. His arms are still crossed, thumb playing with the pendant resting on his chest. A chest surprisingly covered by a sweater, though the sleeves are pushed up. 

“Hey. Glad your test is over?”

That sound of his voice makes you smile, and he’s never been so grateful for something, even if it’s just an expression. “Yeah.”

You glance down at the new tattoo on his arm, a dark colored snake wrapping around the skin covering his elbow. You run your thumb across the tail that flicks across his forearm, and Billy relaxes into your touch. 

“You have work today?”

Billy shakes his head. You’re glad he had the day off. And you’d tell him so if it weren’t for the sudden bombardment. 

Lucas is suddenly standing in front of you, having returned from the kitchen where you think he and Dustin may have been cleaning out Joyce’s fridge. 

“Holy shit, thank god you’re here. I need you to convince Billy to go on vacation.” 

You glance at Max, assuming she’s already tried. She looks rather annoyed. “Lucas, would you sit down?”

The boy looks at Max, and she glares at him. Clearly he knows better and sits down next to her. 

“Billy doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to do,” you finally say. 

The man in question turns to face you. You have to lean your head back some because of how close he is. 

“Are you going?” he asks, voice quiet and thick with something you don’t know that you’re supposed to notice. 

“Y-yeah. I was gonna. Robin only went on about it to me for an hour over the phone last night. I just think it might be nice to get away for a little while.” Billy doesn’t break eye contact with you, and while it makes you a little nervous, it tells you he’s listening.

“And I can watch Max for you if you really don’t want to go. Just make sure she doesn’t kill Lucas or anything.” Max snorts at your response, though Lucas looks at her in panic, already calculating how best to prevent that sort of situation. 

Your gaze softens and you fight the urge to reach out and run your thumb across Billy’s cheek. 

Please come with us. I want you to go. I want you there, you think. But it’s not what you say. You don’t know how badly he needs to hear it. 

“You really don’t have to go, Billy. Not if you don’t want to.”

“But there is enough space, man.” Steve stands behind the couch, handing El a scrunchie he retrieved from her bag. His voice is calm, informative. “If you decide to go. There’s plenty of room, and we’d be happy if you did.”

Billy could make some smartass remark. But he won’t. He knows that Steve is being honest, and that he’s not trying to be a dick. It seems that witnessing the guy who beat the shit out of you almost die not even a year after he moved to town really brings you together. 

Billy gives an acknowledging nod. “I’d be very happy if you did,” Eleven says. She loves having Jonathan as an older brother, really she does, but Billy lets her play with his hair. And in her books, that really ups the scale. 

He smiles at her, and El considers that a win. 

You notice him shift next to you, and then he’s leaning forward to whisper in your ear. “Come with me?” He cocks his head in the direction of the door. 

He gets up, assuming you’ll follow him. You always do. 

When you’ve shut the door, you move to the porch swing. It’s your favorite spot out here, and Joyce says it makes her happy to see someone use it. She used to sit there with Will in the mornings after Jonathan left for school and read to him. She did the same with Jonathan, but he was a much more fidgety kid, wanting to find something else to do. 

Billy lights a cigarette, and you watch where he fidgets with the ring on his middle finger. 

He’s standing a little ways away from you so as to not breathe the smoke directly in your vicinity, but you wish so badly that he was closer. You like having him close. The weight of his body next to you, the warmth, how solid his arm feels when it’s pressed to yours or when he slides down on the couch some and it's more so pressed to your side. 

“Which part of it are you worried about?” you ask him. 

He shrugs. “You really think they want me there? You think Max wants me around?” “Billy, I know she does. And I know that voice in your head is telling you that it’s a pity invite, but it’s not. And, besides…” you trail off, but he’s not having that. He needs you to reassure him. 

“Besides what?” 

You look up at him. “I want you to go. And yeah, I’ll be sad if you don’t go, but that shouldn’t sway your decision either.” You push your feet against the concrete porch a little harder, and the swing responds to the movement. You move quicker, now feeling very pleased with yourself. 

Billy almost laughs at the child-like look on your face, but you look so at home on the swing that he holds it in. A grin escapes nonetheless. 

“Say that again.” He stubs out his cigarette in the ashtray either Hopper or Joyce have left outside. He’s watching you again. 

“What?” He’s not gonna let you go all shy on him now. He needed to hear that. He needs to hear it. 

“You know what.”

“I want you to go.”

“Then it’s settled. Need to get out of this shithole anyways.”

————

The place Steve found is about two hours from Hawkins, with three bedrooms, a shockingly luxurious pull-out couch, and bigger common areas than you’ve ever laid eyes on. Excluding the ones in Steve’s house. In short, the rental is like Hopper’s cabin, if Hopper’s cabin were updated and substantially larger. It feels like the kind of place rich people have to take weekend trips. You’d rather not find out how much Steve is paying for the lot of you to stay there. 

Robin takes you on a grand tour while everyone else explores the backyard. Dustin is already determined to climb a tree. One of the rooms has two sets of bunk beds, dedicated to the four boys. “To ensure no cootie-spreading,” Robin proclaims. 

She and Steve will share the couch, with Max and Eleven in the smaller bedroom. 

Robin stops at the end of the hallway. “Which leaves…” 

You and Billy. 

You and Billy Hargrove.

Sharing a room. 

Sharing a bed. 

Speaking of, the man in question brushes past you, setting his bag on the floor at the foot of the bed. Robin takes that as her queue to leave and gives you a thumbs up on the way out. You hope she can feel your death stare on the back of her head, and she knows it, being quick to run down the hall. 

“So we’re roomies, huh?” Billy says, gathering his hair at the base of his neck. You hadn’t even realized he had a tie on him, and it takes him finishing off a lazy bun to realize it’s a blue scrunchie. You have to bite your lip to keep from saying anything. 

“I can sleep with Max and El, if you want. Or–”

That crease between Billy’s brows forms. “Why would you do that?”

You’ve gone all warm. You’d have to sleep in bed with him. And you sit next to him all the time, but this is different. Isn’t it?

Maybe it’s not so weird. You’re just friends. It’s like a sleepover, right?

“I don’t know, you might not want to sleep together or something.”

He cocks a brow, but you catch the double meaning of your words just in time. “You know what I mean, Billy.”

He sits on the end of the bed, and reaches out for you. You move towards him slowly, but the moment you’re within his grasp, Billy spreads his legs and grabs your waist, slotting your body between them. 

“You can go if you really want to. If you think I’ve got cooties or somethin’ and you don’t wanna share a bed with me.”

You snort, and Billy drinks in the sound, knowing he’s the one that made you laugh. 

“I don’t think you’ve got cooties.”

You realize in that moment that his hands haven’t left their spot on your waist, never straying anywhere else. The weight of them on you is enough to keep you focused on him, and he seems to acknowledge that. 

“Then what is it?” he asks, in that low drawl you fear could get out any answer he wanted from you. 

You hesitate, but say it anyway. “You don’t think it’ll be weird? Sleeping in the same bed?”

Billy fights the urge to rest his forehead against your stomach. He wants to tell you he’s wished you were in his bed on more than one occasion. Sometimes he just wishes you were there so it wouldn’t feel so cold, so he’d have someone to pull him out of his thoughts before they eat him alive altogether. 

“No, I don’t think it’ll be weird.”

You nod your head, and try to move back from him. 

Billy whines. “Uh uh. Nope.”

You go to put your hands on your hips, and they graze Billy’s on the way. He grabs hold of them. “You don’t want to have a sleepover with me?”

Billy’s looking up at you with those watery blue eyes, and you know this is a battle you’ll never win. 

“Really?”

He lets out a breath of a laugh, and your eyes fall to his neck when he tosses his head back. 

“Yeah, baby.”

Baby. 

It feels like every cell in your body has been sent into overdrive, like you can’t compute a single coherent thought. All because Billy called you “baby”. 

And if he’s being honest with himself, he feels the same way. He hadn’t meant to say it. It’s just that he calls you “baby” in his head all the time, and it just…happened.

“I’d love to have a sleepover with you, Hargrove.”

“Mhm. Thought so.” 

This time he lets the laugh out, and it’s a beautiful sound. The kind of sound you’d commit unspeakable acts to hear again. And this time, he does let his forehead drop to rest on your stomach. It surprises you, but you’re not mad about it.

“Oh, fuck off,” you say, and you can feel his chuckle against your skin.

When he quits, you find yourself just standing there, find your hands moving around his back. He’s always so warm. You rub your hands up and down his back, the denim of his jacket rough on your fingertips. 

You feel him shift, feel his change in position, the hard press of his chin against you. Billy is looking up at you, and you know he’s hoping you’ll return his gaze. His eyes bore into yours, and you hate to think of what you must look like from this angle. Clearly he doesn’t mind. 

You push a curl behind his ear, a shockingly perfect ringlet that’s too short to be contained like the rest of them. 

Billy would be taken aback by the gesture if it weren’t for the fact that you always go this easy on him. Like you know he’s healing, in more ways than one. 

“We can’t stay here forever, you know. I wanna go look around.” 

“Yeah,” he laughs. “I’m sure it’s riveting.” He lets you go anyway, following you down the hall to the rest of the cabin.

————

Your back rests on the base of an oversized chair, one that’s surprisingly comfy, your body in between Robin’s legs. She’s sitting next to Steve, watching you moderate El, Lucas, and Will play Twister. Dustin’s already out. 

“Right hand blue.”

“You’re kidding right?”

“Sinclair, have you never played this game before?”

Lucas scoffs, trying to reach the blue on the other side of the mat without toppling into Will. Max went with Billy to the store, but they should be back soon. You have a sick feeling they’re taking advantage of having been given Steve’s debit card. 

“Yes, I’ve played the game before. If you’re so good, why don’t you get down here and show us how it’s done, Harrington?”

“Yeah, Harrington, why don’t you show us how flexible you are?” Billy’s voice makes you look up from where you’ve been mindlessly twisting the spinner on the board around with the tip of your finger. 

He stands just inside the living room, holding the door open with his leg. He kicks it shut once Max has made it in. She heaves the paper bags she’d been holding up and onto the counter. Steve rises to help unpack them. You follow on instinct, handing the spinner to Robin instead, and Dustin is quick to take Steve’s spot before Mike can. 

Billy won’t let you take anything from him, but he will let you help figure out what the hell to do with all of it. “Do I even want to know how much you both spent?” you ask. 

He gives you that fucking smile, and you know you don’t. “Max said she wanted to have a spa night–whatever that means–with El, so we sort of split up. I’m sure Steve’ll live.” 

“For your information, Lucas,” Steve continues, clearly not ready to let the quips towards his limberness go, “I was the captain of the swim team.”

“What’s that got to do with being flexible, dingus?” Robin directs the two remaining players, the young boy in question having just busted his ass. 

“Swimming is an art form, Rob. You gotta learn to respect it.”

You choke on a laugh, and Billy is quick to rub your back while he chuckles into your shoulder. 

“Something funny over there?” Steve questions. 

You straighten, trying to wipe the smile from your face though it’s to no avail. “Nope, Steven. I’m sure you’re just incredibly stretchy. Like Mr. Fantastic.”

His brow furrows. “Mr. Fantastic?”

Dustin snorts, elbow deep in a bag of chips, and you quickly realize that you probably shouldn’t have given him an opening, but you don’t exactly regret it either. 

The lot of you spend the rest of the night in this fashion, playing games, eating way too much food, taking turns smacking the top of the television so your movie will keep playing. 

It feels like home. It feels safe. You wish it always felt this way. 

————

You’d just finished brushing your teeth when you hear the bedroom door click shut, hear footsteps you can tell are in search of you. 

You peek your head out of the bathroom and Billy grins at the sight of you in pajamas, a smear of moisturizer on your forehead you’ve yet to rub in. 

He squeezes in the small room, about the same size as his at home, to join you. There’s something about this moment, the domesticity of it, that makes your heart swell. It feels like something you could get used to, getting ready for bed with him. Neither of you have to say anything, you just do your own thing, but having him be there, having his presence–it’s more than enough for you. 

When you climb into bed, you try and read for a while, the sounds of Billy washing his face comforting you. You find it easy to read even when he does get in with you, the mattress sinking underneath his weight, the sheets rustling as he moves around experimentally, trying to get comfortable in a bed that isn’t his own. 

You feel odd though, reading when he’s right there, so it isn’t long before you close the book and slide further into the covers with him. Billy’s quick to turn on his side, wanting to see you like this. 

He watches you yank the blankets up to your chin, looking at him over a blur of fluffy white comforter. “It’s fuckin’ freezin’ in here,” you tell him.

“C’mere then.”

You burrow further into your pillow, fearing you know exactly what he’s going to suggest. “Huh?”

“You’re cold. You always whine about me being warm or somethin’ and I’m telling you to come here.”

“Billy.”

“Stop.” He lifts the covers up some, untucking you from them, and he wraps his arm around your back, tugging you into his side. 

Suddenly you’re pressed against him, having slid across the sheets easier than you’d have imagined. 

He’s let go of you, his arm hovering over your back. “You want me to hold you or no?” 

“Yeah.” 

Billy lets his arm drop against your side, his fingers splaying out over your back. He rubs his hand up and down your spine, hoping it’ll warm you up. “This okay?” 

“Yes.” 

He nods. You’re looking at him like he’s something special.

Billy realizes, in that moment, that that’s how you’ve always looked at him. Even before. 

He also realizes that your hands are tucked under your chin and your legs are curled up and into you like you’re afraid of making any contact with him. 

“You can loosen up, you know. It’s just me.” 

You let out a breath of a laugh, and he can feel it against the skin of his neck. 

“It’s okay, I promise. You can touch me.” Billy has this feeling that you’re afraid of hurting him. He’s sure you’ve noticed that he’s wearing a shirt to bed, something he never did before. And he thinks that you’re worried he’ll break. 

“You’re sure?”

“Wouldn’t have said so otherwise.”

He watches you unfold your hands and stretch your arm over him, hooking it around his hip. You want to rub up and down his side, but you’re nervous. 

It’s just me. 

“Do they hurt at all?”

Your thumb skates up a little further, and you don’t have to tell him what you mean. 

“Not all the time,” he says, voice low and thick with drowsiness. “At first, yeah, like hell. Now it’s just sometimes. They can feel a little tight, or just bug me. Depends, I guess.”

You nod, feeling brave enough now to slide your hand up a little further. Your touch is light, barely there. You close your eyes, trying not to think about when it happened. How he’d screamed. 

He can tell when you’ve calmed down some, because your arm relaxes and you hug him a little more firmly. You scoot in a little closer, close enough that your noses would touch if you tried to make them. 

“Goodnight, Billy.”

He makes the move, dragging the tip of his nose across your forehead. He kisses the top of your head, and you grin so wide you feel like a kid in a candy shop. 

“Goodnight, baby.”

————

When you wake up, you almost don’t want to disturb him, but you know you should get out of bed.

Billy is sprawled out on his stomach, having separated from you at some point during the night. His tank top is rucked up from the tossing and turning of sleep, and you look away when you catch a glimpse of pink skin. It doesn’t feel like your place to look. 

You wander out of the room, carefully shutting the door behind you. You make it down the hall, and find that Robin seems to be the only other one awake. You should’ve guessed. She told you once before that her body doesn’t seem to let her sleep in. 

Steve is still passed out on the pull-out couch, completely covered by the blankets. The only sign of him is a tuft of messy hair against the light colored pillow case his head rests on. 

Robin waves at you from her perch at the kitchen counter, a bowl of cereal in front of her. “Want some?” she whispers, pushing the box in your direction. 

You fill up your own bowl, having a feeling that Robin is about to ramble. 

“Sleep okay?” she asks. 

“Mhm. You?”

“Fine. Though, y’know, Steve is a horrific bed hog. Seriously, he was half on top of me the whole night. I might have to bunk with Max and El.” 

You laugh, and Robin takes that as her queue to ask what she’s been pondering since she woke up. 

“Was it okay? Sleeping with Billy? Well, not like that. Well, I’m assuming not like that, not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I just meant like actually sleeping? Please stop me.”

You grin at her. “Please breathe, Rob.” She does, over exaggerating her inhales. “And it was fine.”

“Okay, good. I was kind of worried you’d be frustrated with my matchmaking tendencies. I just really want you two to be happy. And he seems so calm when he’s with you, and I realize I’ve just told you that I’ve been pushing you two together and I–”

You wipe milk from your chin, having almost spit out your cereal. “Robin, sweetheart, it’s okay, I promise. I know about your matchmaking tendencies. But I think we’re just friends, right?”

“Just friends, my ass.” You hadn’t even seen Steve get up, but he’s reaching for the fridge and pulling out a carton of chocolate milk. He really can’t say anything about Dustin’s eating habits when he has the exact same diet. 

“Oh my god.”

“Listen, I’m just saying, there’s been something going on between you two since before the world went to shit. I don’t know why you two tiptoe around each other like it’s not obvious that you’re in love.”

“Steve!” you exclaim. “Seriously, what the hell? I’ve been up for like twenty minutes and you two are schooling me on my love life?”

“Or lack thereof,” Robin says. 

“Okay, damn. You know what, I’m going back to bed.” 

Steve pushes your bowl back towards you when you attempt to get up. “No, you’re not. I’m just saying, there’s no sense in avoiding this. You both clearly feel a lot for each other, and I don’t see any reason to avoid it when you could be together.” 

He’s being vulnerable with you, his big brown eyes boring into yours and trying to convey how serious he’s being. 

“Just think about it, okay? There’s no harm in talking about how you feel with him. And don’t say that you don’t feel anything, because that’s a goddamn lie.”

————

Billy’s had his swim trunks on all day, but he hasn’t done more than sit in the shade by the pool while everyone else makes a mess and plays ridiculous games in the water. 

It’s killing him to watch you in there from time to time, swimming around or sitting in the shallow end. You told him once that swimming calms you down. 

It’s not until after dinner, when everyone has moved inside for the most part, though there seems to be the plotting of a water balloon fight out front, that he’s brave enough to head for the pool. 

You follow him out there, see him contemplating the water. 

“Whatcha doin’?” 

Billy drops the cigarette he’d been smoking, snubbing it out. “Thought about going for a swim,” he tells you. 

“That sounds nice.”

“Mhm.”

“I can go back inside, if you want.”

Billy turns to face you. “No. No, I want you to stay.” He wants you to see. He can’t explain why, but he does. 

“Okay.” 

He takes a shaky breath, hoping you don’t catch it. You do. You always do. 

“I just…wasn’t ready for everyone to see.”

“I understand, Billy.” 

You know what he’s really saying. He wasn’t ready for everyone to see. But he’s ready for you to see. 

“I can get in first, if that helps. And I won’t look if you don’t want me to,” you say. 

“That helps, yeah. And you can look. It’s okay.”

He watches you wade in, watches the way your swimsuit changes color as you tread water. 

Billy takes another deep breath, and he’s pulling his shirt off. He’s quick though, diving straight into the deep end, knowing he needs to get it over with. 

When he comes up, his hair is sticking to his forehead, and he flips it out of the way, giving you a glimpse of the broad pink scar on his chest. 

He meets you halfway, and you think he’s in a serious mood until he’s splashing you like a child. 

“You motherfucker!” 

You get him back, and he’s laughing. 

Billy is laughing and he looks so pretty in the last of the day’s sunlight, beads of water sliding over his collarbones and down his arms, and you feel like you could die. Like seeing him this way is enough. You don’t need anything else.

You try to return a particularly aggressive splash, but he catches your waist, pulling you up and over his shoulder. 

“Billy!”

“What?” His voice is teasing. He tosses the rest of the way over, your laughter fading out into the water. 

You come up, a brilliant smile on his face. Billy’s sure if you stood close enough you’d be able to hear his heart beating. 

When you’ve both gone quiet, your eyes drop to the scars on his sides, the way they stretch across his skin, mean and twisting. Some spots are darker than others, and while it hurts you to look at them, you know it must hurt him even more. But he looks just as beautiful as before, if not increasingly so. 

“See something you like?” Billy says it on instinct. To hide the fact that he’s worried you don’t really like it. That maybe you think he’s gross looking. But he knows that’s all in his head. He fucking knows it. 

“You’re fucking gorgeous, Billy Hargrove.”

You say it with such surety, such admiration, that he can’t even begin to doubt that you mean it. 

He smiles at you. It’s boyish. You’d do anything to see a million more of them. 

He moves towards you, the sky having darkened enough that the outside lights have come on, the lights in the pool too. All that remains of the sun is a slash of deep orange, though the night quickly pushes it away.

Billy’s got you backed up against the wall of the pool now. His hands find your sides.

It’s overwhelming, having him this close. You can feel his breath on your face, see the rise and fall of his chest, the freckles on his cheeks. 

When he kisses you, you think your heart stops. His mouth is warm against yours, and he tastes a little like chlorine, but you don’t care. Your hands find his face, and you’re smiling so hard that he pulls away because he wants to see. You don’t let him for long though, pulling him back, wanting more. He laughs into your mouth, and your chest aches with this feeling.

Eventually you do let go, and when you hold his eye contact, he knows what you’re going to say. He needs to tell you first, though.

“I’m in love with you, you know.”

“I know,” you respond.

He tosses his head back in a laugh, and you press a sweet kiss to his throat. 

“I’m in love with you too, Billy.”

“Damn right you are.”

You snort against his chest, lowering slightly to kiss his scar. His breath catches. He doesn’t know what he did to deserve you. 

“About fucking time!” Steve’s shouting and Robin is yelling, and Max would be making barf sounds if she wasn’t so pleased with seeing her brother so happy. 

“So much for that,” Billy says.

But you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

————

“I’m regretting this, Billy.”

“Stop whining.”

Billy wraps his arms tighter around your back, pressing a kiss to your jaw in hopes that you’ll let him keep doing this. 

“Get off.”

“No.”

“Get off, please.”

“Make me.” 

There’s the sound of a slap, your hand having met his ass.

He raises his head from where he’d buried it in your chest, looking at you drowsily. “You just spanked me.”

And you’d do it again. 

“Didn’t work, did it?”

“No. Shut up and take it.”

By that he means continue letting him lay on top of you, his entire body pressed to yours. It doesn’t matter to him that there’s an entire bed, one that’s made for two people.

You settle for playing with his hair, something he seems to enjoy, and you’d mess with him about the fact that he’s essentially purring if it weren’t for him looking so content. 

He might be heavy, but having Billy Hargrove sleep on top of you isn’t exactly something you just give up. 

He’s never had this before.

Hell, you’ve never had this before. 

And he thinks it’s healing him. More than the salve he puts on his scars, or the physical therapy, or fixing up the Camaro. 

You’re healing him. You. 

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

[nevertheless-moving]

Considering the amount of emotional and moral nuance he managed to muster up immediately post Guanyin temple (despite having a terrible week and zero good role models) AND considering his front row seat to the dissection of Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian’s downfall, I think that in a time travel fix-it, Jin Ling would actually be pretty successful at brute forcing yunmeng family therapy.

I mean he'd probably cry, but even that would be good! Because 1) modeling negative male emotions beside anger, and 2) Oh shit that’s shije’s kid we made Shije’s son cry, fuck, fuck! Bam! Instant high ground! Also he has the most authority of any second gen character by virtue of the fact that he could pull “DO YOU WANT MY MOM TO DIE??? BECAUSE YOU TWO ACTING LIKE MORONS IS WHAT GOT MY MOM KILLED! NOW SIT DOWN AND SPIT OUT ALL YOUR FUCKING SECRETS OR MY MOM WILL DIE AND I’LL BREAK YOUR LEGS!!” It would work! Tell me it wouldn't work!

Not to mention once he gets a few sect leader years under his belt, he might be the best person to manage a fix-it, in general. He's got perspective. He's got political training. Others might get too caught up on the specifics of the Wen remnants or the Ying Tiger Tally or Vengeance against One Person or Another — Jin Ling is critiquing the basic structure of how Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng are living their lives and he's getting away with it.

He would even be good at dealing with Jin Guangyao, the slipperiest motherfucker in the timeline. Jin Ling's got as good a handle as anyone on his motivations, and he has sincere (if messy) affection for him, which would hit Guangyao right in his weak spot. Depending on your headcanons it may or may not be in vain, but he's got a real chance of getting the man to set some more modest and less destructive life goals.

Similarly, I think he'd do a pretty decent job at a harsh-but-fair critique of Xichen's neutrality and Mingue's rigidity and Huissang's delibrate uselessness, though getting them to listen would be more of a crapshoot.

All of this makes it especially funny how badly he would handle Wangxian.

For context: Wei Ying and Hunguang-jun are not just the gayest people Jin Ling has ever met, they are the gayest people he's ever HEARD of.

He wouldn't want to bring it up. He wouldn't mean to. He doesn't want to talk about it. But when he inevitably calls Wei Ying a slur only to be met with genuine bafflement? Jin Ling would completely lose his shit.

Because I don't think Wei Ying is going to get offended, or defensive, or have a response that his nephew could coherently mock. Wei Wuxian thinks 'hey these time traveling guys are actually pretty funny!' Him and Whom? Not even a serious topic of contention. You got me for a second, haha.

Jin Ling would break. Wei Ying eventually says something the effect of "I'm straight? Obviously?" and Jin Ling would nod once, start screaming, then climb across the table to strangle him.

It's — look. How do you fucking explain that all of the worst moments of your life were, in someway or another, characterized by Wei Wuxian and Lan Wanjii being FLAMBOYANTLY into one another.

The man who saved his life also killed his father and Jin Ling stabs him but it feels awful and — ok Lan Wanjii is cradling Wei Wuxian tenderly. Ok they're just going to go. They're leaving like that. Hunguang Jun was — is — was the Yiling Patriarch's widow, so that's another layer to add onto everything else. Hunguang-Jun is visibly expressing emotions with his face and voice and Jin Ling is going to go throw up now

Jin Ling's kidnapped at the burial mounds and everyone’s lost their spiritual energy and all his friends and family are going to die and — those two are smiling at eachother. They're telling inside jokes. They're holding hands.

Jin disciples (his own clans disciples) just shot at him and and Xiao-shushu really is what people sa— WEI YING SHOUTS ABOUT WANTING TO FUCK LAN WANJII

THEY ARE IN THE MIDDLE OF BEING KIDNAPPED AND HE DOES THIS

Jujiu is bleeding from the stomach and crying he's bleeding and crying his jujiu is doing that and Xiao-shushu caused it and his whole life is a lie and Hunguang Jun and the Yiling Patriarch are visibly groping in a corner.

And then they never stop groping again. Forever.

So yeah, I'm quite confident that if Jin Ling had to be even peripherally involved with coaching Wei Wuxian through a bisexual awakening and homoerotic courtship, he would explode. He would black out with rage. He'd make an honest and embarrassingly unsuccessful attempt at killing Lan Zhan. He would walk into a lotus pond and stay there until he drowned. He'd start heavy drinking. He'd punch a random passerby in the dick.

In conclusion, Need More Jin Ling Time Travel Fics

[yoonlattesworld]

Escapism-MYG

Synopsis: how naive were you to think you found the one when it was so obvious that he was making a fool of you. But you weren't gonna sit around and mope while he's having fun with your so called best friend. Good thing a certain someone was more than happy to help you out. And it made you wonder that if you had chosen him since the very beginning, would you have not gotten hurt?

Genre/ warnings: romance, angst, smut, raw sex, cheating, getting revenge on douche ex, misogyny,ex's enemy au, mob boss yoongi, making out, grinding, body worshipping, panty sniffing,oral(f receiving) vagina sniffing,love making.

Mob boss yoongi x reader

Yoongi masterlist

Main masterlist

Author's pov

A little context if you care to listen

I found myself in a shit position

"we need to talk"

All the excitement that you had about finally having a date with your loving boyfriend after weeks, drained the moment those words left his lips.

Although you did sense that something was wrong the moment he showed up at your house rather than the designated meeting spot which was the restaurant in which you had your first date. Still, you didn't let yourself think about negative thoughts as you gave him a nod with a small smile.

He didn't return the smile.

You followed him to your living room all ready and dressed up for the date night. A little part of you still thinking that you both would be going to the restaurant as planned after the talk.

How naive.

"what's up?" you hoped the nervousnsess didn't showed in your voice as you sat on the other end of the couch now suddenly aware of the huge distance between you both "jihyeok?-" "it was a mistake" now along with nervousnsess you were also feeling very confused as you looked at him with raised eyebrows. "what was a mistake?" your gut feeling told you that you wouldn't like the answer.

And it was right.

"look" he sighed rubbing his face with his hands with a tight jaw as you silently looked at him with a sick feeling bubbling inside you "can you please tell me what did you do?-" "i-i slept with Ina" for a second your face went blank. Truly because your brain hadn't registered his words because they didn't make any sense. Him, your boyfriend having sex with your best friend ina-

No words came out of your mouth as you slowly processed the situation. Your face still blank and lips still parted as you looked down at your hands folded on your lap.

Everything he said next came out blurry because the only thing which was running inside your brain was him, your boyfriend of 2 years cheating on you with your best friend of 10 years. The one you met when you were 14 and the one who stayed by your side with every step of life.

"I was drunk-" excuse "it was an accident-" excuse "she threw herself on me-" more excuses "you were always busy and she was just there-" god you were so tired of hearing his voice "and it was your fault too, if you weren't so busy-" "can you shut your mouth? I don't really want to hear your voice" his eyes widened in surprise when your blank ones met his. The audacity is so amusing.

You stood up, dusting off the imaginary dust off your dress before looking at him. He was still frozen with his mouth agape. You scoffed rolling your eyes as you looked away from him. God you can't believe it. How did you waste two years of your life with this piece of shit?

A part of you wanted to hear him. Just to see if he feels a little bit of regret for his actions. But another part of you tells you there is no use. He has already blamed you like it was your fault he had to cheat so what's the use of hearing his useless words?

"get out" if he looked surprised before then you don't know what he's feeling right now as he looked at you with his mouth ajar "w-what-" guess he expected you to act differently. You sighed rubbing your forehead at the forming headache. How in the world can someone be so stupid? Now that you think about it, the signs were so clear.

"jihyeok" he looked at you with what you recognised as hope. Stupid, so stupid. "get out of my house" you watched the hope shatter into small pieces just like your heart did. Instead, his jaw tightened and his eyes started showing anger as he stood up as well "what? You're just gonna throw 2 years away over a single mistake?" he has to be joking. Shaking your head you crossed your arms over your chest, tilting your chin up "do you really want to do this right now?" it was a small warning. But you forgot he was stupid enough to not understand.

He scoffed shoving his hands in his pockets as he stared at you smugly "don't pretend like I'm the only one at fault y/n. You're as much guilty as I am. It was just an accident and if you weren't always so busy then it wouldn't have happened-" "your dick went inside her by accident? I didn't know something like that can happen by accident, ji. What? Did you slipped or something?" his face redenned as he stuttered to find another excuse but you didn't let him continue.

"so you slept with my friend behind my back by accident because I was busy trying to make money to support your dreams. You shouldn't skip the important part baby" you stared at him with disappointment while your nails dug in your arms. No you won't show him your weakness. You won't cry. You can't cry.

He opened and closed his mouth like a gaping fish as he balled his fists "w-well-" "and I should add that every time I made time so we could spend it together, you were the one who called off every date last minute. Why? Because you would spend your free time playing games rather than being with me" you smirked when you realised he wasn't meeting your eyes. That's what you thought.

"now get out. And don't contact me again. Glad she was satisfied by your small friend" oops. That surely hit a sore spot.

The man that I love sat me down last night and he told me that it's over

Dumb decision

He looked at you with anger as he walked passed you, intentionally bumping into your shoulder as he made his way to the front door. But of course he just has to say something to repair his bruised ego.

"don't get so happy y/n. Just because you make more money doesn't mean you're superior to me. Remember, you were just a stress reliever. I lost feelings for you a long time ago. At least she understood me and wouldn't bitch around when it came to keeping the house clean" he smirked as you grew silent. Looks like he mistook your silence for hurt. "you can't even do most of the house work, of course a man would leave you for something better"

"jihyeok" "what?" the smug smile told you he expected you to apologise and crawl back. Poor him. "you're in no place to teach me how to be a woman. If you're such a man, why were you eating off your girlfriend's salary since the last year?" it was your turn to smile as you saw his face fall "and please don't call yourself a man. You're insulting the whole spieces" you winked as you raised your hand "also, just because she sucked your cock doesn't mean she'll support you. Good luck finding a job and paying the rent by yourself. And I also expect you to return me all the money I spent on your rent since the last year" you watched his eyes filling with fear and his hands shook as he stared at your hand which was holding up the middle finger "now get out"

~•~

The moment your door closed, your knees gave in. Your heart hurt. So much that you could physically feel it squeezing painfully as broken sobs spilled from your lips. You didn't let your tears fall when he was in front of you. No way in hell you would let him see you at your weakest. But now it was like a damn broke free as you struggled to breath. How can you be so stupid? You should have seen this coming a long time ago. All the lingering touches, the stolen glances, the time you found her in your apartment with him alone.

"we wanted to surprise you!" they both smiled brightly causing you to smile too.

But at that time you failed to notice that how did she knew that you were going home early that day. You smiled bitterly. They were just lucky that day.

You took a deep breath and wiped your face before standing up on shaky legs. You will not cry over him. No, you will never allow yourself to cry over the people who didn't deserve to be called humans. Ignoring your ringing phone you made your way to the kitchen and washed your face. The lighted screen told you who was calling

"ina💖"

You scoffed as you cut the call and blocked her number. You had no interest in listening to her excuses. You had a feeling they both were together right now.

A part of you wanted to cut them off from your life forever but another part of you wanted to hurt them just like they hurt you. It was worse that you knew just the best way to do that. It was even worse that you knew who would help you take your petty revenge.

Before you could stop yourself, your were already picking up your phone and dailing his number. Your hands shook as your thumb hovered over his name and his words rushed back to your mind.

"whatever you need, I'll do my best to make it happen. It won't matter how long I need to wait. Just say the word and it's done. I hope you'll give me another chance, doll"

Taking a deep breath you pressed the phone to your ear. Surprisingly, he picked up almost immediately and a warmth spread inside you when his deep voice hit your ears.

"I was waiting for you,doll" you looked down at your feet as you felt fresh tears filling your eyes and you hoped the small sniffle would go unnoticed by him. But of course it didn't. He noticed everything when it came to you. "you're crying?" you pictured him clenching his jaw as his voice took a dangerous tilt. One that used to scare you. You ignored his question as you took a shaky breath and whispered "does your offer still stand?" he was silent for a moment before breathing out "yes" you nodded even though he can't see it and sat on the chair of your dinning table "then will you let me use you?" you held your breath as you anticipated his answer and felt your body relaxing when he rasped "use me angel. Tell me what do I need to do"

"pretend you're in love with me" you whispered hearing a long exhale on the other side "don't need to pretend for that,doll" your heart started pounding as you looked down, again ignoring the flutter of your heart "pretend you're willing to die for me" "can't" your eyes widened ''why?" ''because I would die for you angel"

As your words died down in your throat, you wondered what would have happened if you had made different choices in the past.

"why can't you trust me?!" he panted as he gripped your shoulders. You looked up at him with pained eyes as you hoped he wouldn't notice your tears under the heavy rain. But of course he did. Breathing heavily he leaned his forehead against yours "what changed y/n?" a sob left your lips as you shaked your head, weakly pushing him "I'm still the same guy you fell for. And you're still the same girl I fell for" he whispered hoarsly as you gripped his suit jacket, pulling him closer until your lips were barely touching. You pressed your lips on his for a brief moment before another sob broke free from your throat as you whispered "I'm scared of you yoongi" that was the end of it. You saw him shatter in pieces and crumble in pain as you uttered those words.

If 3 years ago you had trusted him, forced yourself to trust him, then maybe your life would have been a lot different.

"what else doll" "don't kill him" "depends" his dry voice forced a small giggle out of you as you wiped your eyes but the smile soon died down when he asked "what did he do baby girl?" you almost didn't want to tell him because you knew he wouldn't be able to control his anger if he knew. But you have to tell him. "he cheated" the moment your small whisper reached his ears was the moment he saw red. His voice may seem calm but in his head, he was already thinking about the many ways he could torture the piece of shit. But of course you always knew how to calm him down "yoongi promise me you won't do anything" you heard him taking a deep breath before he grunted "what do you want me to do?" "can you find out where he is right now?" "that's easy. 'course I can"

Of course he can. Sometimes you forget who he is.

~•~

Now I don't wanna feel how my heart is ripping

Fact I don't wanna feel so I stick to sipping

And im out of the town with a simple mission

In my little black dress,And this shit is sittin

You met him outside the club as you both planned. Well he planned. He had sent a car for you because of course he wouldn't let you come alone when it as dark outside. He never took any risks when it came to you. And maybe you knew why. Maybe it was because you were the easiest way to threaten him.

You felt your breath catching in your throat when you saw him. Looking as handsome as he was 3 years ago. But maybe more mature. His hair longer and ridges rougher. You last saw him when he was 24 and you were 21. Now you're 24 and he is 27. "yoongi" you breathed as you stood in front of him. His eyes were soft as he took you in and your breath stuttered when you felt his hand gently holding your smaller one "hey doll" he mumbled softly as he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss on your forehead. Just like he used to.

You heart hurt when you think about the time you spent away from him. Even if you were in a relationship with jihyeok, a small part of you still belonged to him just like how he always belonged to you.

He didn't said anything more but his eyes did. They held so many different emotions as he kept staring at you intensely. "let's go"

You nodded and held his arm softly as you both started walking inside the famous club. He found out that your ex and ex best friend were both in here together. It may seem petty to make your ex jealous and regret his actions. But after spending almost your whole life trying to be considerate of others, you wanted to be petty. And yoongi had no problem with that. He still thinks you're being considerate to that shit head by not letting him make that fucker regret in his ways but he'll support you no matter what you do.

All eyes were on you both the moment you stepped inside the club. You can't blame them. You knew you both looked great. In the two years you saw yoongi twice. Both were the once when he couldn't help it. When he missed you too much. And both of those times you saw him in his three piece suit. Right now he looked lethally gorgeous in a leather jacket, ripped Jeans and chunky boots while you wore a sleeveless black dress which came to your mid thighs. Hair loose and heels high. Even through his jacket, you could feel the bulge of his gun pressing against your hips. But it didn't make you nervous.

It didn't take long to catch them, making out at the bar without a care in the world. Like they haven't betrayed the one person who loved them both genuinely. You could feel tears filling your eyes at the sight but yoongi cupped your face and made you look at him "don't forget what you're here for doll" you nodded as he wiped the single tear that managed to escape before leaning down to whisper "just say the word and I'll make them regret their whole lives" you slapped his chest as he smirked "shut up we aren't here to kill anyone" "whatever you want, doll" he drawled letting you pull him towards the dance floor.

You smiled up at him as his hands found their place on your hips which you swayed to the music. The multiple lights shown on his face as he pulled you closer until your hands were on his chest. And you knew that you had their attention when you felt a burning gaze on your back. Yoongi leaned down until his lips grazed your ear for which he was gifted with pleasant shiver "they're looking at us doll" he mumbled burying his face in your sweet smelling neck while your arms wrapped around his neck as you both moved with the music.

A surprised gasp left your lips when you felt his lips pressing a wet kiss on the sensitive skin of your neck "y-yoongi'' your eyes fell shut as you felt him pressing soft kisses on the same spot before sucking it softly. He hummed gravelly as he pressed a hand on your lower back and pulled you flushed against him causing your soft breasts to press against his firm chest. It didn't help that you weren't wearing a bra. "need to make him realise what he lost" he murmured as he bite the same spot gently causing a small moan to slip from your lips. "mm..yoongi" you sighed, your hands gripping his shoulders as you felt something hard pressing against your lower stomach.

Small twing of pleasure erupted your whole body, settling a fire on it's wake as you felt yourself getting wetter by the second until your panties were sticking to your womanhood and soft pants were leaving your lips. "fuck you smell so good" he groaned as your fingers tugged his hair,your back arching and your head leaned to the side, giving him more access to your neck.By now you had completely forgotten about your ex boyfriend and best friend glaring daggers at you as you both swayed to the music, bodies feeling hot like fire as heavy breathing and pants mingled together.

"shit" he breathed heavily as his hand gripped your neck and he pulled you closer until your lips were inches away from his "tell me doll" he rasped, gripping your thigh and pulling your right leg up until it was wrapped around his waist. You gasped, holding his wrist as you felt his hardness pressing straight against your cunt "who are you thinking about?" he mumbled, grinding against you causing soft moans to spill from your lips "are you thinking about him right now?" his voice held a tilt of possessiveness and darkness as his hold around your throat tightened a bit. You whimpered shaking your head as he pressed against you harder "n-not him" he nodded leaning his forehead against yours "then who?" "y-you" the moment those words left your lips, his lips crashed against yours.

And it wasn't a sweet or gentle kiss. It was rough and hard, filled with possessiveness and yearning as your teeth clashed together and tongues danced for dominance. But of course he won. He kissed you hard. Hard enough for your lips to feel numb and your pussy to gush as soft moans of his name left your lips like a chant while low growls and groans left his lips like he couldn't get enough of you.

"missed you so fucking much" he panted as he pulled back slightly, both of your lips red and bruised and hot breath mingling together. You opened your eyes to see him already looking at you and if your heart was pounding before, then right now it threatened to spill out of your chest as you whispered "yoongi" he hummed as he looked over your head and you saw his eyes narrowed "w-what's wrong?" you asked turning to look behind you but yoongi held the back of your head and pulled you to his chest with a grunt causing you to look at him confused "nothing's wrong angel. Tell me what were you gonna say?" he murmured pressing a kiss on your forehead and because your face was buried in his chest, you didn't notice him still looking at something at a distance. "umm" you whispered gripping his jacket "take me to your home?" you dared to peek up as he went silent and the look in his eyes caused you to whimper softly.

He chuckled darkly as his hand squeezed your hip before he murmured lowly "you're playing a very dangerous game kitten. Don't think you'll get to leave once we step in my house" you gulped down the nerves as you bite your bottom lip softly before pressing a soft kiss on his lips "I don't wanna leave" you saw his eyes darken which made you excited and nervous.

It was like nothing else mattered when you were standing in the middle of a crowded bar and gazing in his eyes as he trapped you in. The way he looked at you, the way he touched you, the way he held you, it made you wonder just why did you waste 2 years of your life with that trash bag. The guy that you loved with all your heart, gave him your everything, and what did you get in return? Getting cheated on and also getting the blame. And the girl who was supposed to be your one true friend, the one who was with you for so many points of life. You were mad at yourself for spending 3 years apart from him.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when someone suddenly pushed past you, causing you to stumble further in his embrace as he wrapped a protective arm around you and glared at the drunken woman. "you okay?" he cupped your face with one hand and you nodded placing your hand on his "can we go?" your voice was small as you said those words and he didn't said anything but nodded and wrapped an arm around your shoulder before pushing past the ocean of bodies.

You noticed he was glancing behind by his shoulder every now and then and his grip around you suddenly tightened just as you both stepped out of the club "yoongi" you squeezed his hand which was on your shoulder and he only hummed as he glanced by his shoulder again "is everything okay?" you looked at him worriedly and his eyes softened. You both stopped in front of his car and he cupped your face softly "everything is fine, angel. Don't worry about anything and sit inside. I need to make a call and make sure you lock the car yeah?" he mumbled giving you the key. Although you had a feeling that something was wrong, you trusted him enough to not question him. So nodding you took the key and sat in the car, nodding when he signalled you to lock the doors.

You sighed, watching him as he took his phone out and made a call. A few seconds later you saw two men arriving and although you couldn't hear their conversation, you knew it was something serious because yoongi looked a little angry as he talked with the two men. They said something before walking away and yoongi rounded the car while you unlocked the door. His cologne filled your senses as he opened the door and sat in with a sigh. "who were they?" you asked softly as he took off his jacket and laid it on your lap which you Silently thanked him for because you were freezing. "they work for me" he answered simply as he started the car and you nodded before looking down at your hands folded on your lap.

Your attention was caught by him when he suddenly placed a hand on your thigh and after a moment of hesitation, you kept your hand on his. The ride was silent until you reached his house. You realised he had moved places. As he parked the car in the underground parking lot, he rasped "last chance doll" you looked at him nervously as he took a slow exhale before turning to look at you "I won't let you leave once to step inside my place y/n. I can't let you leave again. I don't think I can handle it again" his jaw was tight as he said those words and you realised just how badly you hurt him. Taking a shaky breath you unbuckled your seat belt and leaned forward, letting his jacket fall as you pressed your lips on his "make me stay yoongi. Please don't let me leave" you whispered against his lips and the familiar darkness returned in his eyes. The one that made your legs weak and pussy gush.

The elevator ride to his pent house was silent but you were in his arms the whole time. It was like he couldn't keep his hands off of you. But the moment you entered the penthouse, his lips were on yours and his hands were on your body. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he kissed you hard. His hands groping whatever skin they could reach as low moans and whimpers filled the air. Breathing heavily, he gripped your thighs and picked you up effortlessly causing you to grip his shoulders with Soft moans as your lips danced against each other. You didn't notice him walking towards his bedroom because you were so lost in his lips. Only when he laid you on his bed and his scent filled your senses did you realised that you were in his personal space. But you didn't have time you look around in his room because he was above you on his knees no yanking of his t shirt.

You felt your cheeks warming up as his milky white skin came in your view. But along with his abs your eyes caught something else too. There were multiple scars on his abdomen. It seemed like he noticed the sadness in your eyes because he tilted your chin up and pulled you in a deep kiss. One which took your breath away. It was deep and sensual. Passionate and full of longing. "I'm fine doll. A little knife can't kill me" you stifled a small giggle as he winked at you before your eyes widened when he suddenly pulled you up on his lap.

You took his hand as he kissed you again and guided it towards the thin strips of your dress and he let out a low growl as he slowly pulled the strips down until the dress was hanging around your waist. Slowly, he pulled back and his eyes wandered down "fuck"he whispered as he took you in "so fucking beautiful" you looked at him shyly as he laid you down again and tapped your hips. You raised them and he took off the dress completely,leaving you in a pair of thin black panties which were soaking wet.

"so perfect" he whispered as he came down until he was kissing around your breasts "a fucking goddess" he took your nipple in his mouth, sucking it softly which had you arching your back while your fingers tangled in his hair and small gasps left your lips "letting me worship you" his hand massaged your breast, making sure to give them the same attention "can die a happy man now" he chuckled darkly as you moaned his name softly. Trailing his kisses downwards he pressed multiple kisses around your waist before pressing a small kiss on your panty covered womanhood.

He looked at you as he hooked his finger around the thin material and once you nodded, he pulled the panties down your legs while biting his lip. You gasped when he raised the ruined material to his nose and took a long sniff before letting out a long groan causing you to cover your face in embarrassment "don't fucking hide from me" he grunted gripping your hips and pulling you down until his face was buried in between your legs, causing you to squeal In surprise.

But before he touched your weeping cunt, he looked at you with what you found as jealousy and possessiveness "has that shit head ever eaten you out?" he murmured lowly as he kissed your inner thighs, leaving small marks behind "n-no" you gasped shakily, your fingers flying towards his hair "no? " his eyebrows furrowed and you nervously whispered "h-he said it was gross-" another dark chuckle cut you off and you looked down to see his face leaned against your thigh as he looked at you cockily "can't believe I let you date a fucking kid but" he smirked "that means I'm the first man who tastes you" it was the only thing you heard before he dived in like a man dying from starvation and you were his last meal.

A loud moan left your lips as he wrapped his around your clit, sucking and teasing it until it was swollen and red. His hands gripped your ass and pulled you in so close that you were scared that he might suffocate but it seemed like he had no problem as he lapped your pussy like a lollipop. Your back arched and your head pressed against the pillows as his tongue entered your pussy. You could only moan his name helplessly as he took turns in fucking you with tongue and sucking your clitoris. He was quite literally making out with your clit as he inhaled your intimate scent with a deep groan which caused you to feel the vibrations against your womanhood. Your legs locked around his head which yet again made you worried that you might suffocate him but as you went to move away from him, he gripped your thighs with a growl and pulled you in "don't fucking do that again" He pleasured you like it was his only way to salvation. Like he was dying and you were his last meal. It all became so much that you exploded a second later with a loud and long moan of his name. If you weren't so high on pleasure you would have been embarrassed at how loud you sounded because you never thought you could make such a sound.

He mumbled praises of how good you were doing as he made sure to lick every single drop you gave him. He pulled back with a proud smirk, watching as you came down from your High and climbed up towards you, his cock brushing against your sensitive folds. You opened your eyes to find him already looking at you and a shy smile made it's way to your lips "how was that? " he grinned causing you to whine "great" "I'm sure it was" he chuckled kissing your forehead "but I'm not done with you sweet girl" your eyes widened as he hovered over you and. You didn't even noticed when he took of his pants but you felt your eyes widening and core gushing as you saw the size of his cock. It was long and thick, standing tall and proud with his mushroom tip an angry red and pre cum already forming. Soft moan left your lips when his cock grinded against your womanhood "tell me to stop yeah? " he whispered and you nodded holding his shoulders with a deep breath.

Soon a gasp left your lips when you felt the tip of his cock entering you and he stopped immediately "You good? " he brushed your hair away from your face and you nodded whispering "be gentle please" he kissed your nose "I will angel" slowly, you felt him entering you which caused you to whimper in slight pain. He peppered your face with soft kisses to distract as he tried his best to not slam inside you.

Once he was buried inside you, he stilled to give you some time to adjust "take deep breaths for me doll" he mumbled and you nodded taking shaky breaths. A soft sigh left your lips when you felt the pain disappearing and nodded. He pressed his lips on yours as he bottomed out before pushing back in causing both of to moan simultaneously "o-oh yoongi" your back arched as he moved with long and deep thrusts, hitting every part of your womanhood and soon, his cock brushed against that sweet spot causing you to moan loudly "right here? " he gritted thrusting back in at the same angle again and again causing your eyes to roll at the back of your head.

You gripped his hand with a soft whimper and he held it immediately beside your head. You cupped his face as he leaned his head against yours and you whispered "I missed you so much" his jaw clenched and his thrusts got harder and more powerful as he buried his face in your neck "you have no fucking idea how many times I almost knocked on your door. Almost called you dammit" you whimpered as you felt your high approaching rapidly once again and tears ran down your face as you sobbed "I'm so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you" his eyes hardened at the sight of you crying and he crushed his lips on yours "it doesn't matter anymore. You're here with me. I don't need anything else" he never blamed you for leaving him. You both loved each 3 years ago but you had no idea who he was. To you he was the son of a wealthy business man. But the day you were going to confess, you saw him at His worst. You saw him killing someone. When you told him you were scared of him, he wanted to kill himself. He was mad at himself for falling for you. For allowing such feelings. But when you left him, he was willing to wait however long you wanted him too.

"fuck y/n" he breathed heavily as you pulled him in a soft kiss and you felt your high wash over you as he kissed you deeply, his own High washing over him. He rided you both out of your highs before falling on top of you and you wrapped your arms around him tightly as he buried his face in your sweaty chest.

After a few seconds of heavy breathing, you whispered "yoongi" he hummed snuggling deeper "you remember when I called you, you said you were waiting for me.. What did that mean?" you felt him smile against your skin as his hold around you tightened "it means that I've been waiting for you since 3 years, doll. Because I knew that one day, we'd meet again. So the wait was worth it" "and what if I hadn't called? " he hummed "then I would have waited and waited until you did" "why? " "because I'm so in love with you that waiting for you seemed easier than trying to forget you"

~•~

As you laid naked under the covers, yoongi stood by the bed with a towel wrapped around his waist as he listened to his right hand man talk "the guys belonged to Lee. They somehow came to know that you would be at the club. I've taken care of them but boss.. " yoongi hummed as he pulled the covers over your body properly "the same guys had been following y/n since a few weeks. They somehow caught our men following her and Lee found out that you've been secretly keeping an eye on her. They wanted to use her to-" "threaten me" yoongi chucked darkly as his movements stilled "fucking shit head" he snarled as he walked out of the room as to not wake you up "you know what you need to do namjoon. Bring him to me alive"

~•~

"what are you doing? " you flinched and turned around sheepishly as yoongi raised an eyebrow. He was shirtless in only some grey sweatpants as he folded his arms over his chest, looking at the mess all around the kitchen "w-well" you laughed nervously "i-i wanted to make you breakfast but I didn't realise I messed up your kitchen" yoongi nodded as he looked at the dinning table filled with breakfast and coffee "I'm so sorry I'll clean it up-" "you don't need to" you blinked as he pulled you to the table and made you sit on his lap "I pay people to clean my house. Surely they can do it. Now let me taste my girl's cooking" you looked at him surprised while he calmly ate his pancakes "you don't mind the mess i made? " "why would I? " he shrugged "the food is great" he kissed your head and fed you too.

"you can cook whenever you want. I love your cooking. Just be careful to not hurt yourself. You cook, I'll clean" you giggled kissing his nose "I think I kinda like you" he grinned tickling your waist "well thank god because I think I like you too"

Taglist

@bunnyrhe @rosquilleta @raineandskye @shymagda-7 @creatorspalace @yoonaasa @iheartsvt @xmochiloverx @kyojuro-ska @meow-min @kissme-ornot @wobblewobble822 @kookieaddicted96 @thelilbutifulthings

[iruiji]

SAGAU but Creator Reader has been tagging along with the Gourmet Supremos.

If you didn't know or have forgotten, Gourmet Supremos are one of those quest series that is randomized because some part of the questline can only be accessed with dailies (like Whispers in the Wind or Snezhnaya Does Not Believe in Tears or Garcia's Paean).

This questline spans from Inazuma up to Sumeru. I think there were 6-7 quests in total? I forgot. (it's 8).

(These are Julie, Parvaneh and Xudong in order.) There are more characters that made a cameo in here but we'll just limit it with these three.

Context dropped, onto the short HCs.

• Okay so, I didn't really read the whole story of this one so I'm just going to make some random HCs on the fly. I'm aiming for a goody-feel with this one so no heavy angst will be involved.

• Alright, so. Xudong is the leader of the Gourmet Supremos, and he only found you because when you land in Inazuma, you literally dropped into their camp and was about to steal a sausage from Julie's backpack (but there were so many ingredients there!!!)

• Xudong was fuming, lmao.

"THIEF!! SOMEONE, HELP!"

• Aight, geez, made you run a marathon there.

• The next time you've met, all three were together and they saw you roasting some lavender melon in some dilapidated tent you found while walking aimlessly. Hey, better than no shelter at all. For some unfathomable reason, your inventory only consists of food materials - with everything, and I mean everything, missing.

• God damn. It's like the heaven is telling you something. 🙄

• Anyways, yeah. So for some reason, the only access to the goddamn ingredients are locked, and you can't use it and you don't know when you would be able to use it, so you have to scrounge up whatever pitiful sources you can get.

• Sadly, it's mostly lavender melons.

• Like, you already made several dishes from this and it's really starting to grind on your gears, so you took a dive in one of the caverns and found some meat and was happily grilling it with the melons when the trio came out of nowhere.

"Thief!"

The hell. "I didn't get the sausage, though."

"But you still tried to!"

"I mean, I was dying of hunger, so.. you know."

Julie, bless her heart, gets in between you two. "It's fine, Xudong. They needed help, did they not?"

"But-"

This time, Parvaneh chimes in. "As they've told you, they didn't get anything, so let it go. And you." She points at you with calloused finger. "Who are you?"

That caught you off guard a little. Told them your name and, to Xudong's bewilderment, started chatting amicably with you. Some time later though, he softened a bit but still a little cautious. They traded cooking tips with you, and, to their utmost surprise, you exchanged many tips on cooking as well.

"How do you know all this?" Xudong asked as you finished explaining the difference between sauteing onion and garlic first.

"Oh. I'm uh, a professional chef back in our place. Been years though, so yeah." You replied as you took a bite of their chicken. "Holy shit, why is this so good?"

Julie and Parvaneh just smiled proudly.

• So like, you became a new addition to their team - but you actually specialize in desserts. Xudong has many a great views in cooking, as well as the two ladies, and together you journeyed the whole of Inazuma for rare ingredients and made some two or three journals that have been since published and loved by people. (The fangirling/fanboying is real when you saw Xiangling's message drooling about your own version of Tiramisu).

• One day, however, you lot came across a shrine - it doesn't look abandoned, oddly, but it looks really, really old. You asked them what's the deal with this one, and they explained about the Creator.

Oh.

You're in SAGAU?

Shit.

"People said they've come back, but we don't really know.."

Double shit.

• With that knowledge, you try and avoid the main cities as much as possible and only let the three buy on populated areas. Thank God they didn't really notice you suddenly covering half your face with a mask - which you only shrugged when asked.

"I like masks."

Fair enough, they suppose.

• ..oh fuck, is that Yae Miko?

"Ara, and who is this?"

Xudong, Julie and Parvaneh bows and you hastily followed.

"She is our new companion, Lady Miko."

She looks at you with an impish grin. "Oh?"

Dont act suspicious. Don't act suspicious.

"..yo."

Nice.

• Coming across the main characters from the game are very, VERY rare. You can actually count on one hand the characters you've met:

Yae Miko;

Thoma (he was going around asking for favors as usual and you bump into each other and only had quick apologies as interaction);

Kujou Sara (she was patrolling the area and asked about your mask - which you replied that it's part of your outfit. damn, her glare was fucking menacing!);

Kuki Shinobu (you were side to side buying groceries once), and lastly;

Kamisato Ayato (you actually didn't meet - you just saw him giving speech in a podium for some event you just came across).

• You figured, hey, maybe you're NOT the creator or whatever. And just tried to live normally after some time. The mask stayed though, because you just survived the pandemic back here and was cautious.

• About a year and six months with the team, Xudong suggested you come all to Sumeru to expand your knowledge. Holy shit, yes please!

• ..and then you met the Traveler on your way.

"Your Grace..?"

Triple shit.

😭 sorry for disappearing for about a year - i was too lazy finishing anything. And now, I added another idea not to finish on the list 💀 wrote this whole thing in like 30 minutes motivation really is a wonderful thing, huh?