#distinctive baby clothes

[hautebaby]

The Benefits of Organic Baby Clothing

Organic baby clothing offers a range of benefits for both infants and the environment. Firstly, organic fabrics, typically made from pesticide-free cotton or bamboo, are gentle on a baby's sensitive skin, reducing the risk of irritation or allergies. These materials are also breathable and naturally hypoallergenic.

[celestialtarot11]

what placements indicate having vampire beauty?

Vampiric beauty

—Scorpio placements, scorpio degrees (8, 20) on the big 3. I’ve noticed these placements have their eyes emphasized through eyeliner, kohl, or eyeshadow! They usually have eyeshadow, mascara, their brows are done or left natural which adds to their allure! Some may have beautiful thick brows!

—Libra placements/degrees add harmony to the facial structure. Vampires tend to have a soft charm to them that really grabs you by the scruff, something so subtle and it really helps to hide their ferocity. Even more allure! Libras’ can also have airbrushed skin from how much they care for it. Looks quite supernatural. Even the way they move is slow and gentle.

—Aquarius placements have a unique facial structure, their asymmetry is what makes them attractive. One brow might be raised more than the other giving them a very pointed, sharp look. Aquarius’s can have piercing eyes and a gaze so deep it sends shivers down your spine. They may prefer to outline their lips in liner, or something darker to add contrast to their face. May have a bolder stride, get out of my way kind of walk.

—Aquarius’s also may have a refined voice to them, something so grounded and sharp to it. You can tell it’s distinct. Something about it pulls you in like a calling. There is something real edgy to their eyes. Something you know you can’t trust. It also calls you in to the void, urging your body to jump.

—Gemini and Leo placements look amazing in voluminous hairstyles. With their powerful stride their hair bounces with every step and you know they’re on their way to eat your heart out.

—Gemini/Mercury dom placements may prefer having their nails done stiletto shape, giving them that vampiric appearance. Red nails. They love caring for their hands and may post pictures of then holding a mug, or if they’re feeling really confident, your shirt collar as they lean in for a bite <3

—Gemini’s also have lips that are prominent in nature. They can wear a lot of gloss to attract attention there, or have sharper thinner lips when they smile. Lifted cheeks to express their never ending youth of a vampire.

—I’d also see taurus placements having this, but only if they have a scorpio degree on their big 3, heavy mars aspect/placement, heavy Saturn influence. Most Taurean’s I know go for a simple put together style, not necessarily dark in nature unless paired with the aspects I mentioned.

—Taurus women/venus 1h have beautiful facial structure as well. Well defined and cheekbones sharp enough to cut paper. Even more emphasized when they dress sharply and its dark! With darker colored clothes, angular pieces like coats and knee length boots that clack heavily in the midst of the fog.

—Pluto-venus asp adds a touch of darkness to their outfits.

—Capricorn, saturn dom women just have that beautiful fine wine energy. They are so graceful. The thing is they may have had a baby face growing up and as they near their mid twenties to thirties, their bone structure pops. Vampiric of them all and timeless charm, and there is something visually nostalgic to them. A 90s fashion model vamp trapped in the modern day era <3

—They look great in long coats, leather motorcycle jackets, platform boots. Some may have a stout nose giving them a sharper appearance with softer cheeks (asp to neptune can add this) and some may have piercing eyes cutting into you like a knife. These women embody femme fatale with low neckline dresses.

They’ll eat you out and undress you with their eyes before they touch you.

[apollo-loved-icarus]

the more i think about the gods the more i realise they have always been with me. 

Hephaestus was with me, brimming with excitement, as I grinned at my projects in wood work. Poseidon has been with me since my birth when i was born under the warm water of a bathtub and he has been with me every single time i went to the beach and felt such a distinct calling to the ocean. Demeter was with me as i played in the mud and played pretend in the forest as a child and now as i go for walks through nature. Aphrodite is holding my hand every step of the way as i try and find myself. it was her arms i cried into after every break up. she is tucking my hair back and adjusting my clothes as i look in the mirror and feel confident. she is swimming with me and Poseidon at the beach. she calls me to her birthplace like a moth to flame. Apollo has embraced me every time i smile up with the sun on my face. he grinned at me every time i thanked someone for saying my hair looked nice in the sun. it was his arms that held me upright through every performance and it is he who dances with me every time i dance around my house. Zeus is there when my breath catches as thunder strikes above me. He danced with me and my brother and my mum in the rain when i was a child. Athena is rocking out to bikini kill and green day with me. she lives through me in the rage i feel at the world. i feel her embrace when i get excited about finally understanding my maths work. she holds my hand through every exam. it is Hestia’s arms who cradle me when i am warm and cosy in my bed. she embodies the feeling of waking up when its chilly outside but im warm under my blanket. she is with me when i smell the candles i light. Hera sits beside me and grins over my shoulder when i look at wedding ideas on pinterest. she is the one cooing at baby pictures with me when i get bad bouts of baby fever. she is cradling me in her arms when i hear my parents argue and i feel scared. Artemis is watching curiously as i freeze for a moment when i see wildlife on girl guide camp. she is the complete awe on the younger girls faces when we see a kangaroo in the distance or a cool bug on the ground. she and her brother are adjusting my posture and footing when i hold a bow and aim for a target. she is the happiness i feel when i look up and see a bright moon. she is giggling at baby videos with me and Hera during my days of baby fever. Persephone is the giddy smile on my face when i realise its Spring! its finally my birthday season and i couldn’t be happier. she is holding my hand and laughing herself silly as my friends and i try and figure out the weather during school. she is sitting calmly with me as i weave flowers together to put in my hair. Hades is in the drop of my heart when i feel my life flash before my eyes. he embraces me when i am trying to wrap my head around the concept of death. he holds my friends close when they experience loss. Ares is alive and well in my mind as i type a snarky response to someone i cannot stand online. he is with me, cheering me on as i start arguments and fight for my beliefs. Hermes grins over my shoulder as i receive money for my birthday. he is with me when my father and i watch Italian telenovelas so we can learn Italian together. he embraces me when i am anxious about travelling or going somewhere. it is his arms that hold me close and soothe my panic as i realise how far away from home i am. 

I have always felt the gods around me. I have just never been able to put a word to the feelings I feel. I cherish their love so much ❤️

[finniestoncrane]

💗 with penguin? from the batman

Farrell!Penguin x Fem!Reader, word count: 750 mmmmmmm yes please anon!! this old romantic??? he'd be aching to tell his partner how he felt about them, but he's a shy boy at heart!! little bit of ozzie losing his calm exterior and accidentally spilling the beans about his devotion while he's balls deep in you coming right up!! 💜🐧 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: penetrative sex, sweetheart/baby used, daddy!kink, reader has vagina, confessions of love, eeny weeny bit of dirty talk

Any and all fears that you had about what you meant to Oswald seemed pointless in that moment. The worry that you meant nothing more to him than a good, easy fuck at the end of a long day quickly dissipated when his cock was buried inside of you, his large hands holding your body as he rutted into you. You could do a lot worse. And if that was all you were to him, then you were grateful for it.

Who would turn down such a lucrative opportunity? Spoiled when he could, or when you let him. Fucked with the kind of feral attitude you might only find in someone trying to prove something. Given an insight into what life was like for the true rulers in Gotham. Importantly, though, you were also offered respect and care. A little bit of affection when he let his facade drop. The gold glinting grin would slip just a moment every so often, and his eyes would soften as he watched you put your clothes back on, or when you left his office at the lounge.

Sometimes, you let yourself believe that there were words behind the warm smile he offered you. A deeper meaning. You weren't willing to push him though, so you kept your questions to yourself. It was easy enough to do when your lips only opened to take in his cock, his fingers, his tongue, or to let out moans of pleasure and groans of sweet, delicious pain.

Oswald did most of the talking between you both, socially and sexually. As he pummelled into your hips, you watched his lips form the lust-driven rambling from your position on top of his desk. His hands skimmed down your thighs, tracing over the sides of your torso as he spoke.

"Fuck baby, that's it, that's the stuff right there... Let daddy show you... You gonna take it good?... Yeah you know what to do... Cos you're a good girl... My good girl... You're amazing baby doll... God, I-... I uh..."

The sudden pause, the way he almost stuttered, wasn't something you'd seen in him before. He was unsure of himself, of his words, of his intentions. And Oswald was always prepared. Given that the pace had slowed, you caught your breath and used the brief moment of reprieve to check on him.

"Ozzie? You ok?"

"Nah, I'm fine baby, don't worry about it."

He could tell the mood had shifted though. You had a distinct look of concern in your eyes, and he realised that if he held back from you now that he might lose a little bit of trust from you.

The brief pause was over though, and he realised he'd missed the moment. It was too late to say it now, so he tried to bring his focus back to the present, how you felt against him, around him. Maybe now was the time. Maybe he could feel vulnerable, open, honest. Your eyes, staring up at him, concern, genuine feeling behind them, only confirmed to him that this was the right thing to do.

Oswald's finger and thumb gripped at either side of your chin, holding your head in his palm as he redirected your attention to him. It felt like an eternity, his eyes gazing into yours, focused and intense, his cock buried up to the hilt, throbbing against your clenching walls.

"God... I love you, sweetheart."

He couldn't keep it too sweet though. You'd find out how soft he was soon enough, for now, he could be honest, but he felt like he had to remain sexy and confident. So he kept going, hoping that you wouldn't linger too long on his sentiments, trying to lull you back into dazed arousal before you criticised him for his confession.

"I love your skin. I love your mouth."

His pace picked back up, and you could only moan in response to each declaration of affection.

"I love your hands, your body."

You could feel your body tensing, giving way to the control of your orgasm as he continued.

"I love that warm, wet cunt of yours too. Love the way it makes me feel."

Oswald groaned as he let the last world trail out, his fingers digging into your skin where he held you, pulling you down onto his cock. His length pushed into you, bottoming out, up to the hilt, each thrust pressing against your limit as he emphasised each word with the branding of your walls with his cock.

"I. Love. You."

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

(seven) days a week, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: It only takes seven days (a week) for Jeon Jungkook to get you in his bed to fuck you right. And showing up in weird places. And kissing in the rain. He's crazy. Okay, it's kinda complicated.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language (reader swears a lot); strangers-to-lovers; vague allusions to a loveless childhood and bad parenting (no specifics); JK might be insane and you do tell him that he is; slight crack; fluff; smut (fem reader, fucking with clothes on and off, m and f-receiving oral, light hair pulling, fingering, nipple play, choking, penetrative sex, handjob); non-idol!BTS – persistent!Jungkook x noona, def tsundere!reader lol ft instigator-cupid!Park Jimin setting them up

this directly follows Jung Kook's 'Seven' MV, so make sure to watch it (although I'm sure you've seen it if you wanna read this lmao)

--

monday.

“What? Something on my face?”

You stared at him and he stared back. Wide eyes, slightly parted lips, the look of caught prey and all. You had your hands in front of you, long fingers laced together, elbows on the table. You probably shouldn’t have scowled like that. That was a bit rude, especially to someone you didn’t know well, but this guy had been staring at you all night and barely speaking to you, even when prompted, so you were getting both impatient and annoyed at accepting this invitation.

“You wear… a lot of jewelry,” Jeon Jungkook said out loud, with awe.

You looked down at your hands. Well. The rings, the bracelets, even the earrings on both your ears, all sterling silver or white gold. You had even swapped out the lower lobe piercing for a pair of dangling dice earrings with grey freshwater pearls. You liked the cooler tone to bring some death to your warm-toned skin.

“Yeah. Is that a problem?” Your low voice had an edge of guarded to it.

A quick, nervous head shake. “No. No, it’s cool. I’ve never seen a girl wear so many chunky rings like that. I didn’t think I’d like it either, but then I saw you.”

You opened your mouth to snap out a comeback and then his words hit you.

There was no doubt that Jeon Jungkook was cute. Black-brown hair with a lustrous quality. Bright, expressive dark brown eyes. Slightly rounded cheeks with a distinct jawline. He said he had, and you could see, tattoos and piercings, something you quite liked but not a requirement. Built body, in the way that people where when they were committed to taking care of their physical appearance. Not so much in vanity, but in the way that matched how they felt that they should look in their head. Respect for that. But, in this chance that was what you had expected to be his, Jungkook didn’t taken it.

He looked the part.

Didn’t act it, though.

Black blazer, matching trousers. White t-shirt. Dressy but not too much. To be honest, the outer appearance didn’t matter much to you. It actually mattered the least. You wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Really. You were often told that you had too little patience for people, but, come on!

This conversation was awkward.

Hah.

You turned as you sensed a lively presence re-entering your icy atmosphere. Hmph. The actor playing Cupid in the instance. He looked the part too. Baby blue dress shirt with the top buttons undone. Ivory slacks, neatly pressed. Black hair perfectly curled over his forehead, framing an angelic face. Full lips forming an infectious smile that made his eyes disappear as small hands folded away the receipt and tucked his card back into his wallet.

“Ah, the waitress and I had a cute little chat,” flirty Park Jimin chuckled, giving you a little eyebrow wiggle. You rolled your eyes at him. “Did you guys have a nice talk while I was gone?”

“Um…?” Jungkook started, nearly afraid to glance at you for some support.

You gave Jimin a deadpan stare. “You trying to get her number?”

“Me? No, no!” he waved his hands, sitting back down to lean in. “She gave it to me anyway though.”

Figures Park Jimin would introduce you to a guy and also get the number of someone else in the restaurant. You deliberately hadn’t answered Jimin’s question, but he hadn’t noticed.

Jungkook, however, did.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed him deflate a little and you winced in unease, not sure if you should have avoided it, but at this point the waitress had returned, lashes aflutter and gushing about how they just had to try to fried ice cream and it was on the house, as long as Jimin promised to come back, right? Right?

Jimin promised of course, of course, with a big smile.

You completely ignored him and picked up one of the pieces of fried ice cream – mango, it seemed, by the color – and placed it on one of the small plates before setting it right in front of Jungkook.

He perked up and gave you these big, hopeful eyes.

You didn’t say anything but felt your cheeks flush and your gaze shift, putting on an expression of reluctant apology. After a half second, you bowed your head just a bit, shaking off the moment and serving yourself before serving Jimin.

What?

Damn flirt didn’t even notice.

-

tuesday.

“You didn’t like him?”

“I mean, there’s nothing to like or dislike. He barely said anything. Also, Jimin, I told you, I’m not really a relationship person,” you sighed into your phone, walking quickly to the train station. “I don’t want to give this guy the wrong idea about me. He didn’t really strike me as a fuck-around-and-find-out kinda guy.”

“You said you would change your mind for the right person though.”

Sometimes you thought Jimin argued with you just to argue.

“Yeah, and I don’t even know what kind of person he is because he didn’t say shit,” you barked back to that snippy tone on the other side of the line. Some idiot honked at you and you resisted the urge to flip him the bird. Maybe he wasn’t honking at you. The hanging out the window and catcalling could be to the couple walking next to you.

You highly doubted it.

Also, maybe you just wanted to give someone the middle finger because you couldn’t show Jimin right now how much you deeply appreciated him.

“Jungkookie’s just super shy, but wait a minute and he’ll make you his.”

You rolled your eyes. Damn bad habit that you were forming ever since you became friendly with this mildly infuriating angel. “He’s not making me do anything.”

“I’m telling you; he suits you perfectly. You’re being stubborn and not giving him a chance. Anyway, I gave him your number, so don’t worry!”

“Wait, you did wha–”

The roar of the subway train below cut you off.

“Oop, you’re at the station. You’re breaking up! Can’t hear you, byeeeeeee!”

You twitched as Park Jimin hung up on you.

Asshole.

You pulled your phone away from your ear and pulled up the app to pay for your ticket. Paused for a second. New message, unknown number. Then it was your turn, so you hovered your phone screen, heard the beep, and hurried to the correct train line, finding the one to take you home. It was hectic even now, still within the dregs of rush hour, so you didn’t even think to check for the content of the text until you sat down with a big sigh, somewhat of a fwump with your distressed bomber jacket and baggy cargo pants, both made of thick black fabric. The side of your jacket slid off, exposing your bare shoulder and tight white tank top.

The guy standing about a meter away from you snuck a glance in your direction.

You tucked your tongue in your cheek and yanked your jacket back in place with the hand that was holding your phone. Noticed the screen flash, reminding you of the notification.

Fuck it.

Pressed your thumb and your phone unlocked.

Hey, it’s me. Jeon Jungkook… I wanted to say that I’m sorry about not talking that much last night. I was really nervous because you were so pretty and self-assured. I was so impressed that nothing I could think of seemed like a good thing to say, so I blanked out. I’m very sorry. I hope it is okay for me to text you like this.

An essay.

You paused for so long that you felt your cheeks heat.

The fuck?

You frowned at yourself. For some reason, even though he hadn’t talked much, you could hear the text in your head as if Jungkook was speaking to you directly. Sense the anxiousness in the typed words. See those big eyes gazing right at you with a mixture of curiosity and wonder and what-ifs. You sighed, feeling defeated. It would simply be rude to not reply.

I apologize for being too intimidating.

You sent it before thinking. Aw, shit. That was a bit short, wasn’t it? Damnnit. You saw the sending quadlet of dots spinning slowly, struggling due to you being underground. Fuck. If you sent another message now, it might be out of order and that would just get confusing. And what else could you add? Oh, geez, you didn’t even confirm it was you. The conversation with Park Jimin must have scrambled your egg brains.

The train roared out of the tunnel.

All of a sudden, the message sent and a reply instantly popped up. Actually, a serious of bubbles, rapid-fire like bullets. The confirmation must have lagged.

You’re not intimidating at all! Well… not in a bad way. In a sexy way. I mean, in a good way! In a cool way, like you’re not afraid to say what you wanna say. I really admire that in a person, so I really admire that in you. Sorry, that was weird, wasn’t it? I made things weird… ㅠ.ㅠ

You blinked slowly at the messages. It was pretty clear Jungkook had sat there and pondered over the first message for quite a while and these subsequent ones were stream of consciousness spewing. Honestly, kind of funny. Heh. You could sort of imagine it. Maybe he hadn’t expected you to respond right away. Hm, you wondered if he had hoped you would. He really was trying hard, huh. For what? What was the reason?

You tucked your tongue in your cheek and responded anyway.

Oh, you’re definitely weird, but you never know. I might like that. What’s the outfit of the day, Jeon Jungkook?

Were you fishing for a photo? Of course. He would probably scramble to put on a good outfit to impress you. To your surprise, the downloading image icon popped up instantaneously, spinning, spinning. You tilted your head, surprised at the prompt obedience. He must have snapped a pic right away when you asked. It was taking time to load though. You saw some people getting off the train and looked up, checking the stop. Oh, yours was next.

You took care not to look directly at anyone around you, keeping your sling bag in your lap.

Then you looked down to the inquisitive dark brown eyes of Jeon Jungkook with messy black hair and a black leather jacket. White t-shirt. It was a selfie, so you couldn’t see the pants. It was something borderline vain about the angle, but also a seek of approval in that parted mouth, silver ring and stud dotting the edge of the right side, flash of white teeth and slight bite of the left side revealing a small mole at the center underneath his lower lip.

You twitched.

Bold, wasn’t he?

You weren’t sure if you liked it – well, you didn’t mind it, you just weren’t sure if you like-liked it, what was he trying to play at here, trying to get your heart to beat fast or something, hmph – and you clutched your phone pointedly, your rings clacking as you prepped your fingers to type back… something, be honest here… and your fingers wavered.

Shaking a little.

You let out a breath you hadn’t known you had been holding.

Oh, the pants are blue jeans, but I’m out right now so there’s no mirror to show you.

You heard your stop being called and stood up automatically, filing behind other people getting ready to step off, the train slowing down, everything slowing down, finding yourself staring at Jungkook’s expression in the photo, why were you staring, shifting your eyes quickly, then back, it wasn’t like Jeon Jungkook could see you, ugh, this was so annoying.

Do you want to see? I can take another photo when I get home.

You let out a frustrated exhale that no one else around you could understand. Maybe not even those closest to you would get it. But you knew what it meant, and knowing also frustrated you.

Being self-aware was a bitch.

You finally sent your answer.

I much prefer this look on you than the blazer. Is this your normal fashion style?

You had worn a flowing white blouse and floaty black skirt the night before at dinner, but it was not your typical style. Well, it was, but it was one of your work outfits since you had come straight from the office. Something you wore to not get in trouble with the dress code and knowing you would have to meet up with people later. Sometimes you were a little riskier if you were feeling frisky, but Jimin had told you to look nice for the friend he was introducing you to.

But maybe it would have been better to look more you.

Then again, the restaurant was pretty high end. They might not have let you in.

Oh. Yeah. Hahaha, I wore the blazer because Jimin-ssi told me to look nice for you. I guess this is street-style? I don’t know… I’m not fashionable, I only wear what I think is cool or comfy. What about you?

You strode out of the train and briskly walked to the elevator, muscle memory already knowing where to go, typing back. Pausing when you saw the vending machine. A green tea would be nice right now.

You veered off course and headed to stand in line.

I think my friends would describe my style as dark and strong. They’re always telling me I should dress more feminine or at least in less black, but one of my core traits is not listening to shit people say. And swearing.

You tapped your card and made your selection. Waited out the whirr and clunk. Didn’t pay much attention to the world around you. It was a typical day, people passing by, no warning feelings. And, besides, your phone was much more interesting right now.

You did not just think that.

You scowled at your reflection in the glass of the vending machine before picking up your drink.

I hope I get to see you sometime soon so I can appreciate it. :)

You raised an eyebrow at your phone as you ticked open the can and started walking again, taking a crisp sip. It was slightly irritating that he was better at flirting over text than in person. Or maybe it had just been the circumstance. Come to think of it, it would have been weird if he did with Jimin right there, although you were sure Jimin wanted to be there to witness whatever unfolded. The awkwardness was probably just as entertaining to him as it would be if Jungkook had been more forward.

Hmph.

What was more irritating was that you weren’t instantly annoyed by it.

Hmmmmph.

Are you saying you aren’t intimidated by me, Jeon Jungkook?

You hurried home, following the streetlights, breathless, not because you were running, but because you wanted to be home so you could be alone with…

I’m saying I like feeling your effect on me in person.

Him.

-

wednesday.

The next time you saw Jeon Jungkook, you were groaning and setting your forehead on the edge of washing machine, screaming internally. Would have banged it against the metal if you weren’t going to lose a substantial number of brain cells. You were going to pay cash because you wouldn’t get that card surcharge if you did but, of course, of course you had accidentally shorted yourself and pocketed the wrong amount.

Fuck!

Now you were already at the laundromat. Walk back home and lug your shit to and back to get the right amount? Or just forget it and pay the extra charge? You had already put the detergent in. Fuckity fuck fuck. Technically you could go home, it wasn’t that far, but, ugh, it was extra annoying today because you had slept late and now you were grumpily doing your life responsibilities. Come back a different day? No, you had specifically told yourself to get off your ass and get that pile washed. Damnnit, if you hadn’t slept late and scrambled your egg brains, this wouldn’t have happened!

But you had been talking to Jeon Jungkook.

Ending the conversation had been more difficult than you expected. You gritted your teeth, feeling stupid for pulling such a teenage move. Still young, huh? Young and stupid.

Grr.

You heard the metal slide of the money drawer being closed and then an approval ping!

You jumped back, freaked out at the thing you hadn’t done, and then snapped your head to the sudden presence next to you. Dark blue jeans with giant holes at the knees. Gray hoodie sliding off a built right shoulder. White ribbed tank top. Messy black hair. A piercing, no, two on the right side of open lips.

Big, round, dark brown eyes.

You noticed he was wearing a few silver rings himself.

“Um… hi? I noticed you were short a little so I just…” Jeon Jungkook trailed off, giving you a hopeful look.

You gawked at him.

“What are you doing here?”

Ouch. A little too snappy. Jungkook faltered, those peepers shifting. “Ah… well…”

You bit your tongue and reeled it back. “Sorry. I didn’t expect to see you, is all. Obviously, you came here to wash your clothes like everyone else.”

He reached up and scratched the back of his head nervously. Wait. Why was he looking at you like that?

“W-Well, actually… Jimin-ssi told me you normally come here on Wednesdays to do laundry and I was nearby so I figured., maybe, I’d just check if you were here…”

You stared at him.

“You’re stalking me?”

“N-No!” Jungkook sputtered, waving his hands frantically even though you hadn’t raised your voice.

There was a bristle to your tone though. Indignation and frigidity you couldn’t hide. You frowned, narrowing your eyes, cornering him with your gaze. There were only a few people on this slow day, which was why you picked Wednesday to do laundry, but all the patrons had AirPods or other earbuds in, busying themselves with their shoving of clothing in and out of the washers and dryers. No one was going to interrupt anyway.

Not their business.

“I… I…”

“And how did you recognize me anyway? My head was down,” you remembered, advancing on him, and Jungkook took a step back, swallowing hard. Your outfit was baggy too, dark denim jacket and jeans, the tight black tank hidden by the bulk.

“I couldn’t forget how beautiful your hair is,” he mumbled out quickly, looking a little too mesmerized by your fierceness. Forget that. “And your hands were on the edge of the washer. Your rings. The star chain bracelet you wear. I…”

He was fixated on your collarbones and the thin black choker around your neck.

Or lower.

“Oi! My face is up here,” you hissed, snaping your fingers and making him jerk his head. He had stopped backing up though. You pointed at him, somewhat rudely. Actually, very rudely, but whatever. “What do you mean, check if I was here? And who told you? That idiot. I’ll kill him.”

And why was Jungkook looking at you like that?

Like he thought you were hot when angry.

He better stop that shit because you were losing your irate demeanor for some fuckin’ reason.

“I texted you almost all night. That wasn’t enough?” you half-growled, half whispered.

A tiny head shake.

Ah, shit.

You deliberately did not think that was cute.

“I liked it so much that I…” Oh no, oh no, not that honest tremble and deep gaze into your eyes. “I was hoping I could talk to you again, in person, more bravely this time.”

You opened your mouth to sink in that verbal bite and nothing came out.

The entire laundromat could flood right now and you wouldn’t even notice because you were staring at Jeon Jungkook and wondering if this audacity was freaking annoying or freaking impressive. Not this damn guy within two days leaving you speechless. Well… actually, no, never mind the technicalities.

“Are you even thinking before you do things?” you grumbled, not yet backing down.

Jungkook stuck his hands in his hoodie pockets suddenly. Hm? Nervous and shaking? You couldn’t tell, but you watched him closely, observing his body language, your eyes following those lines.

“Mmmm…” He bit the left side of his lower lip. “No?”

You strongly resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

Shy smile greeting you, accompanying the lip bite.

“I’m just listening to my heart.”

Now you visibly cringed. “Don’t say stuff like that.” Looking away slightly, somehow unable to meet those honest eyes.

“Why? You don’t like it?” Genuinely curious.

“You don’t mean it.” He did mean it and you could see that he meant it but you did not want to admit that you knew that he meant it. Yeah. “You barely know me. We only talked over text.”

“But you gave me thoughtful, frank answers. I don’t believe that you were being dishonest,” Jungkook protested, following you over to the tables a few steps away from the washing machines. You dragged your laundry bag with you and kept your voice down.

“I told you, I’m a straightforward an honest person. I won’t lie to you. And I won’t hesitate to cut you off if you lie to me,” you reminded him.

He nodded. You wanted to shake him and yell at him to stop giving you those eyes. “So I just decided to do what I wanted to.”

You cocked your head at him in disbelief. “You didn’t think you went too far?”

What was with that mischievous smile? “I’m the all-in type.”

You let out a puff of air.

“Also, you haven’t told me directly that you don’t like it,” Jungkook pointed out, leaning toward you, smiling.

You gave him a deadpan stare. “You don’t get me,” you said back flatly.

Those dark brown orbs sparkled. “That’s okay. I don’t have to get you to think you’re cool, clever, and stunning.”

Your eyebrow twitched.

“And why do you say that? Because you see how people look at me? Because you enjoyed my useless facts and tangents last night? Because you think with your dick?” You added the last question with bite, leaning forward too, having enough of this, not really him but…

The fact that you didn’t want to tell him to fuck right off.

Silence.

Jungkook was staring into your eyes.

“The shape of your eyes is so… perfect.”

You felt your ears heat.

He raised a finger and traced the air right in front of your left eye, the scent of his clean cologne drifting in your direction. “The way they sharpen in the inner corner, like a bird of prey… And your irises are so dark and striking…”

You grabbed his finger out of the air.

“Don’t be… weird.”

Why did you pause? Hello? No way you’re being like this over this guy right now.

You pointedly pulled his hand down, pinning it to the table. “Pay attention.”

Jungkook was giving you this dreamy, hazy expression. “Huh? What were you saying?”

You narrowed your eyes. “You can’t even listen.”

He leaned in closer and you caught a whiff of that delicious cologne again. “Sorry. I will. Say it again, please. I’ll listen carefully.”

The fuck were you saying again? The lights of the old laundromat flickered but you barely noticed. A common occurrence in these ol’ mom-and-pop places. And, besides, you were staring at this determined, patient smile and mentally shoving down those butterflies that you definitely weren’t feeling, nope, violently compacting those distracting internalizations into a tiny, windowless box.

“You don’t seem very good at listening,” you finally said, tight and even.

“I am,” he insisted softly. “I promise.”

“I’m too much for you.”

Or was Jungkook too much for you?

“I’m offering all of me,” he whispered to the shared air between you and him. “It might not be enough so I’ll be to work hard and do my best.”

What was he so earnest for? You hesitated, the edges to your hard demeanor softening. You didn’t want to trust stuff like this. It was so easy to get burned and you wanted to be the one to do the burning. And how could you trust people? Even you didn’t say everything out loud. Some things you could say and some you couldn’t say. It was too much trouble to believe in someone.

You had never received unburdened kindness when you were younger.

“We’re not on the same page.”

Jungkook tilted his head. “Aren’t we? But you’re reading me easily and I’m doing my best to learn about you too.”

Your shoulders released the tension. “Don’t pretend with me. It’s clear you’re a relationship kind of guy. And, while I’m not against them, I can’t deliver the same kind of devotion you are willing to give. Can’t you see that?” You removed your hand from his, not realizing it was still there.

His fingertip traced a line on the back of your hand.

Sparks raced along the base of your head.

You remained stern, feeling heavy and hot in your clothes.

“Why do you say that? You don’t think you’re loyal?” he asked very sincerely.

Your eyes narrowed. “Of course, I am. If I like you in that way and you asked me to bury a body, I’d already be digging the grave. But I’m not a flowers-and-chocolate kind of girl. That’s not how I show affection.”

You had no idea how far your clothes were in the cycle. The whole world could crash down and you would still be staring at Jungkook and his body language. His shoulders slouched a little more so he could look up at you with those pleading eyes.

Inhale still in your throat.

“Then, do you not like me?”

Say something.

But you didn’t say anything at all, gazing down at Jeon Jungkook and wondering why you couldn’t get through his thick skull that you were a bad decision. Honestly? Honestly, fine, it was because you grew up with parents that never liked each other nor their kids. Honestly, it was because you grew up too fast and with too much independence to not see the filthiness of the world. Honestly, it was because you saw the finicky innate nature of humanity of never devoting themselves to anything, much less anyone, and why would they?

People were crazy.

Call it personal experience.

You sighed.

“Jungkook, I’m not gonna lie to you. I fuck before I care about anybody. I’m only living to get my pleasure and not take care of anyone, okay? I’m barely keeping my own head together. I’m blunt. I don’t need or want romantic gestures. I just want dick. There. I’m not a good person.”

He was smiling.

Aw, shit.

“I must be favored to know you.”

You twitched, tucking your tongue in your cheek to avoid scowling, which was pretty much scowling anyway, so you failed spectacularly.

“Also, you haven’t said you don’t like me,” Jungkook pointed out. Infuriatingly. “Because it’s not true and you don’t lie. Right?” He said your name with a little too much sweetness and knowing.

You yanked your hand out of his and shoved his hard, muscular chest. He bounced back, grinning a little too happily. You told yourself to hate it and you didn’t. Fuck. “What are you even still doing here? Gonna fold my clothes for me or something?”

The energy at being offered a household chore was disturbing. “Oh! I can! I’m very good at doing laundry. And washing dishes. And cleaning. I like doing that stuff.”

“Sure, you do,” you puffed sarcastically,

“I do,” Jungkook insisted, coming around the table. “And I’m good at it.”

You scrutinized him up a down. “Yeah? Because you don’t know where else to put all that energy of yours?”

His lips parted but all he did was gawk at you. Oop. Right on the money. You were liking this expression a little too much. Maybe it was time to lower these walls a bit. After all, it didn’t seem like Jungkook was going to go away any time soon. He was pretty harmless anyway.

“I could drain you in a night,” you chuckled, smirking.

The tips of his ears were getting red at your lowered tone.

“You think you could keep up?”

-

thursday.

Ugh, it was one of those days that fuckin’ suuuucked.

Woke up late and had to rush to get dressed and bounce, then got to work and some shit was going down about missing documents and people moving papers they shouldn’t have, forcing you to play manager because everyone else had no goddamn spine to fix anything. This department would be a disaster without you. To top it all off, you had people stalling, keeping an irrelevant conversation going, leading you on a wild goose chase with no funny honking – turns out the documents were in some random copier right behind you, for fuck’s sake – and you had a very strong inkling it was because of what you looked like.

Which was fine.

Unless you were actually trying to do your job.

Then, one of your side dishes you had brought for lunch had gone off, so you ended up slightly less full than you wanted to be, and you forgot your jacket at work, leaving it hanging on the back of your chair in your rush to leave, and the train halted several stations before your stop because there was some emergency maintenance or some shit.

Fuckity fuck.

It wouldn’t be so annoying it if wasn’t so windy, but it was and you were wearing a sheer sweater with splashes of jewel-toned colors and a longline black sports bra under it – you had worn your jacket half-zipped until your boss had left in the middle of the day and your co-workers didn’t care how you looked, the dress code was stupid anyway – and black jeans, mid-rise. The rules were more about being covered up rather than being professionally dressed.

The job was primarily sitting at a desk and sorting documents, did it matter how you looked?

Or maybe you just broke the rules a little because you were a rebel.

Your stomach growled angrily and you told it to shut the fuck up.

You stood on the corner halfway between work and home, debating on whether or not to do some damage. The problem was you didn’t have any of the usual bad habits most people had. You didn’t drink, so getting stupid drunk and getting thrown out of the noraebang was out of the question. Also, you couldn’t sing. But, anyway, you barely took medicine, let alone know where or how to procure the illegal fun stuff, so that was also out. You didn’t have a sweet tooth either so you couldn’t down a whole cake with gusto, although that sounded like a great way to go.

You sulked.

You had an addiction, but you just stared at the names in your phone and felt guilty. Guilty! For what? For some guy you met literally less than four days ago? Ugh, no, this couldn’t be you right now. Seriously? Seriously? You crossed and stalked up the block, not yet deciding what to do so you kept walking until you figured it out during this internal battle. You had to keep this guy at a distance. Okay, yes, you could admit you liked him.

And that was the problem.

If you didn’t really like him, you could just fuck him and establish those hard boundaries. No issue. You had been in love before but that was a long time ago and ultimately you ended it because it wasn’t right and you weren’t good enough to be devoted to.

You breathed out hard, the unease spilling out of your insides.

It was definitely easier to not expect anything from anyone. You had spent a lot of life not having and, ultimately, not needing to rely on others, both out of necessity and simply having too much to work on by yourself. Years of fighting off bitterness that you had always tasted, years of letting go of important moments realizing that supposedly important people in your life would never be there for them, years of lashing out and becoming the shadow of the abuse you endured. Eye for an eye and all that. Keep the cycle going, until you had that moment in the eye of the storm to get hit by lightning and realize that this wasn’t right.

It wasn’t any particular thing.

Just finally accepting the creeping self-awareness that you had been miserable and were making other people miserable on purpose because you tore them open and took their hearts to find yours.

Metaphorically, duh.

So now you sort of did this martyr shit of being there for people when you could and not asking for anything back. Especially not a relationship. Intimate to heal a heart and then give it away, which totally worked if they weren’t into you, just into what you could do.

You didn’t really feel it yourself but you did get sex out of it.

Bad addiction, yeah.

Your phone vibrated in your pocket.

You ignored it.

Stepped into a chicken place and stood in line, feeling the weight of your world on your shoulders. You brain tried to reason with you that it was Jeon Jungkook’s own fault if he got hurt. He was the one who chose to spend all that time sitting at the laundromat with you talking about random shit. Your favorite video game – Persona 5, excelling in your top three most important things about a video game: music score, gameplay, and art style. Your favorite American rapper – Ludacris and the way he could rhyme the weirdest words. Your favorite movie genre – surrealist psychedelic drug movies, which earned you a confused head tilt. You had asked Jungkook what he liked. Mood lamps. Singing. Watching cooking videos on YouTube.

Had asked him if he believed in soulmates.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket as you ordered at the kiosk and paid.

You don’t think I could have met you in another life?

You stood with the other waiting patrons, ignoring everybody and your phone thrumming against your hip, thinking about last night.

I probably broke your heart.

Thinking about that smile with two piercings and a lip mole. That smile didn’t trust your answer at all.

Maybe the universe is giving me another chance to make up for my past mistakes. I can’t give up.

You made a face at past Jungkook’s answer, too taken aback all those hours ago to scowl properly. Maybe you had been too tired. Too worn down by his earnest nonsense to fight it properly at that moment. Your hand hovered over you hip, wondering if you should check it. Then dropped.

What, did you need to see him every day or something?

Your name was called and you stepped up to receive your order.

Oh, fuck, you miss him.

You yanked your phone out of your pocket and stared at it as you walked out of the restaurant, only to get plopped by a fat raindrop on the lit-up screen. You looked up to the gray sky and let out a hiss.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

You turned around and sat down, grumbling as rain poured down and you replied to Jungkook’s texts.

Stupid.

Not him. Just you.

-

friday.

“What are you trying so hard for?” you snapped.

“Why aren’t you trying hard enough?” Jeon Jungkook shot back.

It was going really well.

Clearly.

You let out a hiss and flicked your hands as if you were trying to physically get rid of his reply. Argh, this… man! The thundering rain was pouring down, down, and you were both standing under a bus stop with no intention of taking the bus. You bit back the volume of your sudden anger. There was no need to yell anyway. No one was coming out in the thick of this monsoon.

Only you and crazy-ass Jeon Jungkook.

Switched tactics. "And what makes you think your virgin ass–"

"I'm not a virgin!"

"You are here!"

And you jammed two fingers into that very muscular chest, right next to the left side of his sternum. Too fast to be stopped. The shove actually made him stumble. Or maybe it was the utter shock of the verbal and physical double jab combined with the deep growl that your voice had suddenly become. His racer jacket and black hair were slick with rain. Half of his white t-shirt soaked. Even the front of his blue jeans drenched.

You panted hard after your outburst, the anger draining away all in a flash of lightning.

Jungkook stared at you with stricken eyes.

The rain pelted down, down, beating into the silence.

“How did you know?” he breathed out.

You didn’t but somehow you did, feeling something inside of you break. Not afraid of the world. Never, never again. No, afraid of what you could do, afraid of breaking something this pure, because you broke your first love too and that past guilt still lingered. Not that you thought Jungkook loved you. He couldn’t This was only the fifth day of him knowing you.

The fuck is going on?

“I see your type all the time,” you sighed, your damp hair all over your face. “Looking for light in black holes instead of stars.” The rain had slipped off your black leather jacket. Your cropped band shirt wasn’t wet, but your black cargo pants were sodden knees down.

This coldness, however, didn’t come from the rain.

“You really should stop. For your own good.”

You looked away from him, feeling as if your own words had pierced bullet holes into your walls. Dark sky, never-ending rain, cars struggling to drive, people running with umbrellas and ponchos, arms huddled close to their bodies, and here you were just standing here in the rain, the world acting out your mind. How nice. You thought you had come to terms with everything, but obviously not. Somehow once you saw Jungkook again, once you felt his presence again, the pull was even stronger and the storm was even more intense and the worst part was that you didn’t want to leave.

You heard Jungkook’s soft, silvery voice through the gray rain.

“Why are you blaming yourself for shit that hasn’t even happened yet?”

You turned your head to look into those pleading brown eyes.

Lightning shot across the sky.

Thunder followed seconds after, eating up the night.

“W… What?”

He shook his head, dripping water.

“You haven’t hurt me. You don’t mean to, either.”

That smile, his hand extended, the inked snake on his wrist showing.

You stared at Jeon Jungkook with droplets beading on your skin but those goosebumps weren’t from the weather. Jerked your head away. What is with this gentleness? How could he know anything? He couldn’t know anything. He was just an airhead who watched too many dramas and made others believe that they could be real.

“Noona?”

You whipped your head to Jungkook, shocked at his use of the honorific. He only used it when Jimin was at the meal. Afterwards, the conversations had been clearly directed at you. Not completely informal speech, but sometimes you slipped and he did too. You never corrected him because, well.

You slapped his hand away.

Nothing was going to happen.

You closed the distance and grabbed his head, pressing your lips to his shaking ones.

It was going to be terrible. Cold. Wet. Acidic from the lingering feelings. There was no way that this kiss could be anything else with this setting.

This was real life.

Not a story.

Your hands cupped his cheeks and you sunk into his kiss. The hard edge of his jewelry and the softness of his breath, caught by your mouth, your eyes already screwed shut, nothing to do but feel, feel the way he instantly pressed back and set his hands on your elbows, pulling you closer, shuddering as your forearms pressed to his chest. A weird feeling, like two fires melting together, prickling racing across your skin, no, deeper, past your ribs and into your heart.

The storm raged on.

You snapped out of the kiss, nose to nose, water trickling in places it shouldn’t, over your eyelashes and down your neck, feeling fingers graze across your elbows. Slipping under the leather. Droplets soaking into your shirt and then warm hands lingering at the curve of your exposed waist.

Tracing your lines.

“Fuck,” you muttered.

And you kissed Jeon Jungkook again.

-

saturday.

No, you didn’t take him home. You’re reckless, yeah.

But you knew how that would go.

Not that Jungkook didn’t try. Maybe you would have done it, if you weren’t the equivalent of wet cat and equally torrenting emotions. His hands around your waist, pulling you closer, heat blossoming between layers of rain-drenched clothing, kiss after kiss, your hands in his hair, tangling those dark waves into wilderness, getting more and more breathless, heady with a feeling you knew but didn’t want to believe in.

For someone who hated lying, you sure enjoyed lying to yourself.

You had reasons.

How could this time be different if it was just following the same trajectory that you always followed?

You had to pry yourself from him, lips tingling, tongue curling, feeling your blood course through your veins and your heartbeat as loud as thunder, opening your eyes to his blissed-out expression, his own eyes still closed, pressing his lips together to savor your taste.

Damn.

You had wanted to tell him to stop it, stop it with all this falling, you were being dragged down by his vibe, clothes feeling heavy, desperate to be stripped away, but you kept your hands along the sides of his head, your exhale escaping but giving you away like a bad con artist.

Those shimmering dark eyes had opened, following Jungkook’s smile.

“You’re a great kisser, noona.”

His hands stayed on your waist, drumming his fingertips on your skin, tangible kisses creating invisible but no less real electricity.

You scoffed, corner of your lips rising.

“Shut up.”

Tendrils of his black-brown hair clung to his forehead. The rain drummed but it had lessened a bit. You had looked back to his eyes, defeated.

“Shut up so I don’t miss you more.”

One last, drawn-out kiss, tongue to tongue and you had broken from him, warning him sternly.

“Don’t follow me.”

Ran all the way home, face burning, not even feeling the rain even though it was still falling.

Now, present time, you sat at this boring farewell party in some fancy hotel with the sun blaring outside. Figures the nice weather would come out when you would have to stuff yourself in a fitted blazer dress and pretend to care about your boss’s boss retiring. Black, of course. For the formal occasion. Sadly, no one was dying except this old coot’s career.

Maybe you were a little salty that you couldn’t retire yet.

You looked down at your phone, which was on silent, noticing you had a new message.

ㅎ.ㅎ

O… Okay. Whatever that face was supposed to mean. You didn’t even bother to answer. Couldn’t, anyway, forced to plaster on a mildly interested expression as your boss gave a speech that you zoned out of. There were multiple large circular tables in the hotel ballroom. Outside the ballroom was an outdoor area with the buffet. Everyone had served themselves before sitting down, but, first, a few words.

A few was turning out to be too many and your salmon was getting cold.

Employees had been allowed to bring plus ones. Wives and husbands. There were a few empty seats, and a few significant others popped in mid-speech, trying to be quiet and politely bowing in apology. Of course, they weren’t required to be on time, having other obligations and such.

You twitched.

Was that why this was dragging on? So everyone could eat at once? For fuck’s sake, who cared if they were late. Then you noticed your boss’s wife stepping in, looking pretty and put-together in a forest green high-necked dress, holding the small hand of a kid in a lopsided children’s tuxedo with an equally confused expression.

Oh.

Come on.

You suddenly felt a disturbance in the Force.

“Excuse me. Sorry, sorry.”

You whipped your head around to see Jeon Jungkook in a black pinstripe suit cha-cha sliding in the empty chair next to you, picking up your black velvet purse and holding it out to you with a grin that made his large, dark brown eyes light up.

You gawked at him.

“Hey. Sorry I’m late.” He added your name politely and with affection, smooth as butter, criminal undercover. Even the honorific, oh, shit.

The blood drained out of your face and you tried not to think about how your co-workers sitting at the table were staring at you and him like you both had three heads. Of course, no one was supposed to be talking, so no one asked questions yet, but that was definitely going to start the second your boss was finished with his sentence.

You took your purse without another word and glared at Jungkook with such fire that you hoped he burned alive at the spot. Oh, this could turn into a murder and a funeral real fucking fast. All he did was give you those shining big peepers that made you want to strangle him. In an unsexy way.

For now.

You leaned over as the clapping started. He caught on and delicately leaned over, offering his ear to your lips.

“The fuck are you doing?”

Jungkook turned his head so only you could hear his whisper.

“I was nearby, so I figured…?”

You stared at him, plumb slack-jawed at this audacity.

He closed the distance and gently kissed your cheek. You ticked your head almost robotically, piercing eyes following his playful ones, and now you wondered if Jeon Jungkook was truly not right in the head or perfect for you.

Well.

You weren’t right in the head either.

You did text him earlier this morning that you needed to come to this party at this hotel to send off this important retiree. If you missed this, then it would have reflected poorly on you, especially when you wanted to keep your job, so, yes, it was part of the reason why you had not attempted to convince Jungkook to sleep over – not that he needed any convincing whatsoever – and the other reason was to get enough sleep so you could tolerate socializing. Did you think Jungkook was gonna finesse his way into the seat next to you? Hell no. Did you think he was gonna dress smartly and with his black hair parted neatly in the center, fuckin’ black tie pressed and collar pinned? Fuck, no.

Did you think you would like it?

No!

“How did you get them to let you in?” you hissed under your breath.

Jungkook was clapping like a seal because everyone else was. A champagne bottle was being popped. He looked systematically impressed and awed. Amazing acting. “I just said I was with you.” Glanced at you and grinned, the silver piercings on his lip gleaming. A hoop and a stud. “Aren’t I, noona?”

The urge to growl at him to shut the fuck up was silenced by your brain reminding you to be safe-for-work.

You felt a poke at your sleeve. Your co-worker sitting at your left, bleach-blond and with the curiosity of a child. Full of sudden comments and questions too, just like a kid.

“Oh, oh! You never mentioned anything about a boyfriend!” Because you didn’t have one until right now, apparently. “So handsome!” Yes, he was. You had taste. “How did you meet?” Circumstances beyond your control.

“Through a… friend.”

That was a very generous word for instigator Park Jimin.

Jungkook poked his head past you and waved. “Hi! Nice to meet you.” He was using you as a shield to avoid directly interacting with these people he didn’t know. Just chiming in with polite nods as you introduced him to the table and sitting back to let you have this uninvited spotlight that was burning you like the sun did to vampires.

Pretty close, in all honesty.

“Aw, what a sweet guy. It’s nice to meet you too. I didn’t think your type was so young and cute.”

You almost made a face of distaste. “You thought my type was old and ugly?” Oop, there goes your sharp tongue.

“Nooo.” You tried not to flinch at the playful slap of your arm. “More mature, maybe? But this is better. You don’t have to be so serious. Look at his smile! I bet that’s what drew you in.”

You glanced at Jungkook and he appropriately smiled big at the right time. Somehow, he had obtained a plate of steak. How, you didn’t care. You narrowed your eyes just a sliver. Jungkook did not stop smiling but there was at least an iota of fear in those big brown eyes. Speaking of vampire, maybe you should suck the life out of him because he was being too fuckin’ much.

“Well, he was persistent to put it lightly. Might as well give him the chance to win me over.”

Jungkook beamed like a billion-kilowatt lightbulb. Or a crystal chandelier. It depended if you wanted to say the light came from his white teeth or sparkling eyeballs.

Fuckity fuck.

You wanted to rub your temples but refrained.

You would never recover from this.

“Are you mad at me?” Jungkook asked you later.

Oh, now he wondered if you’re mad. You didn’t even look at him, dragging him away from the crowd by the elbow. Hopefully you had stayed long enough but there had been so many of the same questions that you were either getting dizzy or murderous. Hm. Why not both?

“I’m not mad at you,” you muttered.

“You kinda sound mad.”

“I’m not mad but I’m gonna get mad if you keep saying I am,” you warned. “Don’t start a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

“A what?”

“Where did you park?”

His voice became small even though he was right next to you. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

The sun was blaring down on the open parking lot, it was annoyingly humid, you were socially drained, and this, not this. You spun abruptly, too much crashing down too fast, flinging Jungkook’s arm from you.

“No,” you hissed out. “No. Don’t you dare take it back. You wanna be crazy and drive me crazy, fine, do it, keep doing it, don’t stop, but own up. I’ve got enough push-and-pull jammed into my head and I don’t need you adding to it.”

It was so easy to simply give in to the rising anger, but you found yourself locked into Jungkook’s wide, taken-back eyes, drowning in them, deeper than the ocean, seeing how rueful he was.

“Don’t do that to me,” you sighed.

At least your voice didn’t crack. You didn’t want to be angry anyway.

You raised your hand to cup his cheek but paused, not knowing anymore what was what. Always been so sure until the world started getting flipped upside down by Jeon Jungkook. You always knew all of the things to do to make someone interested, all the things to say to make them swoon, and now you didn’t know anything at all because this guy showed up and jumped right in, not even caring about the damages, the fine print, or the past that lingered.

Why are you blaming yourself for shit that hasn’t even happened yet?

Jungkook leaned forward and completed the curve of his cheek into your hollow palm, now looking at you eye-to-eye with a curious expression.

The corner of your lips curved upwards.

You leaned forward, saying your next words very seriously.

“You. Are. Crazy.”

-

sunday.

You sat against the window, waiting for the document to print out.

No one was in the office. You had rolled over here out of sheer boredom, looking up at the gray-blue sky and watching shafts of sunlight phase in and out. Overtime to prepare documents for Monday. You hadn’t bothered to follow dress code, but there was a breeze today, so you wore brown plaid trousers and an old vintage t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. The faded album cover of Papa Roach’s Infest. Your oversized black leather jacket was on the back of your office chair once again.

You spun in your chair, the print job long done.

Thought back on the week.

Day one, awkward dinner and the start of a rollercoaster.

Day two, clutching your phone and waiting for replies due to the spotty service of the subway.

Day three, washing machines and dryers and long conversations.

Day four, shitty day with a nice ending to more texts. Better service too.

Day five, cold rain and warm lips.

Day six, surprise! You have a boyfriend and everybody knows!

You got up and wandered to the copier. Stacked everything up and clipped the right parts together, setting it on your boss’s desk. Glanced at the time at your computer. The blank screensaver abruptly appeared, showing you your blurred reflection.

Your fingertips lingered on your chest, the soft, worn fabric of the shirt reminding you of night after tumultuous night of the past. Time that made you, you. Scars you made by holding on too tightly to pain others gave you. The thought of scars in others that you started and they held on to. Repenting, in a way, healing the hearts that came in your path with intimacy and the passion you were afraid to show Jeon Jungkook because what if, what if…

What if it actually matched well?

“You,” Park Jimin had said to you months ago, “You need someone who thinks of you as their whole world.”

“I don’t want that.”

“You don’t want it. But you need it.”

You didn’t have Park-Jimin-being-right on this year’s bingo card, fuck.

You clocked out and collected your stuff, turning off the lights as you left the office, black boots the only solid sound around you, pulling out your phone to check the address one more time.

“Why are you wearing clothes?” you asked accusingly.

“Um…?”

You gripped the sides of the denim jacket and yanked it off his shoulders, pinning Jeon Jungkook’s arms to his sides. He immediately yelped but you silenced him by stepping through the door and pulling him to you by the button placket, tracing the edge of his open lips with your tongue.

“W-Wait, noona, the d-door…”

“I don’t care.”

Kissed him, deeply.

That now familiar scent, closer, slipping your tongue between his lips, succumbing to the flutters. In, out, feeling him collapse under you and moan in his throat, hard body stumbling into yours, hand haphazardly smacking the edge of the door.

It closed behind you.

You rolled your body into his, closer than close with too many layers in between, tangling his arms in his own jacket, swallowing his gasp and feeling him wiggle determinedly to free his hands and then they were on your face, strong fingers fanning out over your jaw, his jacket falling to the floor, hungrily following your tongue and lips with his own.

Something addicting about the addition of metal to those soft mouth.

This was your forte, the ability to make fantasies come true, and you took it seriously, throwing your bag onto the table by the door and shedding the protective layer of leather. Pressed chest to chest, holding his head and tracing his lips, slow fucking them, running your fingertips over the curve of his ears and making him shiver, noting the three hoops along his left ear.

Pressed your hands down his chest, over the smooth ribbed white tank molding to his muscular torso, down, down, kissing past his lips, to that mole underneath, down his chin, his head tipping back, your name drifting above your head as you kissed down his neck, the sharp clean scent of his cologne getting stronger.

“I thought… we were… o-oh, g-going out…”

“I’m gonna fuck you,” you breathed into his collarbones, hot and low, nicking his skin with your teeth and making him shiver. “Right now. Tonight. Maybe tomorrow too.” Undid the button of his jeans with some effort, yanking him towards you again and molding your hips to his, thighs to hard thighs, and that stiffness wasn’t only a sturdy zipper. “Tuesday as well. Fuck it.”

“The whole week,” Jungkook gasped as you unzipped his charcoal jeans.

“Yeah, good, you’re keeping up,” you murmured and grabbed his head again, catching a fistful of his black hair, kissing him hard with your other palm pressed to his hardness. Your tongue tracing the edge of his lips, breathing into his mouth and swallowing Jungkook’s wanton moan, intoxicated by the moment.

You pulled back just to yank your shirt over your head, tossing it to the floor.

It took longer for it to float down than for you to get on your knees.

“Woah…!”

Hooked your fingers on the elastic waistband of his Calvin Kleins and tugged them down, exhaling over that thick length that popped out. He smelled clean, like he had just showered, and you half-smiled, approving, closing the distance to curl your tongue around hard taut skin.

“Ooooh… fuuuuuuuck…”

Tightly taking control, using only your tongue to scoop around his girth and flick against his balls. Kisses, licks, flutters of breath, all of it, sensation after sensation, layering on the heat, adding sweetness to the obscene, his twitching cock hitting your cheek as you pressed kisses to his balls.

“Let me show you something,” you hummed and swallowed his pride.

Jungkook gasped so loud that his hands shot up to his mouth, fingers laced over his moan, one inked arm and one tan one, tilting his head back as your lips closed around him, softly, your tongue cupping the head, caressing the underside, the slit, letting him throb against wet muscle. Pushed him up to the roof of your mouth and slowly, in and out, rubbing the base of the head against your lips every time you ascended, fanning your fingers over his crotch to hold the base and cup his balls in between your index and thumb. Steady and consistent, sucking him off with deliberate precision.

You had a lot of fancy skills to show off but, for this first time, might as well give him the stripped-down version.

Heh.

So you blew Jungkook at his front door in your bra and pants with his clothes half-on and struggling to breathe.

“A-Ah, so s-soft… and so tight… h-how…”

You didn’t speed up. Didn’t put in more force. Used your whole torso, not just your head and neck, to avoid strain, holding his hips to take him deeper but at the same pace, letting the orgasm build with his heart rate, running your thumbs over his balls, a gentle caress, closing your eyes to savor it. Hard and twitching, but you didn’t let him disturb what you had going on, extending out the minutes, saturating every second with flowing, unavoidable bliss.

What?

You could match his vibe with your kind of romance.

You heard Jungkook’s pitch hike and the muscles under your fingers all tensed up. You spared a look upwards, but he wasn’t looking at you, shoving his hands into his messy black hair, displaying his prominent triceps, and moaning to the ceiling, dragging his bangs over his eyes.

“Oh my God, I’m cumming, fuuuuck…!”

You pillowed your tongue around the head and his salty orgasm flooded your mouth, spilling out and down your throat, but you cupped what you could and coated the sensitive head, pleased to hear Jungkook’s shudder and whimper of ecstasy, gripping his hair and pulling. The close-fitted nature of his tank top left nothing to the imagination, the aftershock rippling up his chest, even his hardened nipples poking against the fabric.

You swallowed.

Jungkook moaned and his head fell back again, his eyes probably rolled back.

Gotta finish him off right.

You licked around him carefully, cleaning him off and keeping him hard.

“You…”

Cocked an eyebrow as you shifted your eyes up, his cock buried in your throat, pulsing your muscles around his length. His chin was on his chest, wayward dark curls hanging down, shaking wide eyes watching you with fascination, his shaking voice full of awe.

“You know… how porn calls it a mouth-pussy? I really thought that shit was fake and sounded stupid, but… you have a mouth-pussy.”

You blinked at him and tried not to snort out in laughter.

You just raised both eyebrows and flicked his balls with your tongue. A few seconds later, you pulled back and countered with, “Really? Mouth-pussy? That’s how you show gratitude for the best suck of your life?”

“B-But it’s true!”

You shook you head and waved a hand at him.

“Clothes. Off.”

Every hour, every minute, every second.

Full of sex.

Jungkook wasn’t lying. He wasn’t a virgin. He was a little too good at fingering to be a virgin. Well, you hadn’t had his dick yet but it was pretty obvious with the slow circles on your clit and the kissing of your collarbones. Clothes didn’t even make it to the bedroom. Most of them were left by the door. Your shoulder blades and ass touching the bed, his other hand along your back and tracing your spine as he kissed across your breasts, shyly shifting his gaze back to your face to constantly check if you were enjoying it, not quite confident that he was making your heart flutter. You smirked back at him, taking his hand and pressing his fingers to your wet slit, pushing them in yourself.

He breathed out with you, watching your face as the pleasure snaked out from your core.

Two of them, taking it slow, but you shook your head and pressed his down, your hard nipple against his lips, and he followed your lead, faster, harder, your inner walls clenching around him, sighing deeply as the pleasure flowed, soft licks and tracing tongue. You let him have it, the slower, more romantic pace, spreading your fingers over his sheets and thrusting into his hand, adding to the pleasure, and Jungkook’s eyes glittered, kissing from one nipple to another with a smile.

“Harder?”

“And faster,” you agreed, licking the air between you and him.

Hey, you weren’t a virgin either and you liked it rough.

He kissed you first, entranced by your tongue, harder, faster, your hips following his hand, entangled in this beat, and then it was back to your nipples, kissing sucking, sparks of sensuality over your skin, your hands diving into his hair. Heat. Roughness. Passion, catching your breath and your head falling back, inhaling his scent and the clean sheets, the orgasm flooding through you, delicately forming his name with your lips.

“Ah, Jungkook…”

You didn’t let it stop there though.

His hand moved to pull out and you clutched his wrist and pushed him back in, your nail catching his ring finger, collecting it too, gasping at the added fullness, and you pulled his left hand out from under your back.

Jungkook watched you curiously as your rode his right hand and turned his left, thumb down.

You fitted it around your neck and positioned it correctly, grinning devilishly at him.

He got the hint.

Slightly unsure at first but you built his confidence, comfortably laying back on his bed and spreading out your fingers, moaning softly for him, rocking your hips into his hand, climbing to the high again, stronger his time. His fingers pressed inwards and you breathed out, savoring the choking, the way time slowed down, the way the sensations heightened, your spine arching, low gasp like heavy smoke, immortalizing the moment in his memory, black pupils blown out in those beautiful dark eyes, leaning forward to run his tongue over your nipples.

Your fingers curled into the sheets, thrusting into his fingers harder.

Lids heavy, drowning in the pleasure, his tongue, his hands, the way he looked at you like you were his whole world, the tension between you and him, sweet and intense and overwhelming, just perfect, your exhale only a thin wisp now, closing your eyes and moaning to the ceiling as you came.

It was a hard, thundering pulse, much more powerful than before, your shivering pussy gripping his fingers and your hips bucking. Thighs snapping closed, whining as you felt the hardness of his tattooed forearm, your head snapping to the side the second he released you, the rushing blood knocking you down and making your nerves sing, strong flinches across your arms and torso. Gasping to catch your breath.

Wasn’t his first time choking, but maybe the first time he got really turned on by it, because Jungkook was ogling you like a three-star Michelin meal.

It was like that all night.

From the first time he entered you, one condom wrapper the start of many, biting the left side of his lip and shuddering – “H-How are you so tight…? I just f-fingered you – oooh!” – and you wrapped around him tightly, smirking a little too smugly, one arm around his neck and one leg on his shoulder. Your fingers petaled around the base of his head, cupping him in the flower of your touch. Your thigh against his hard chest still trembling from your kisses. You angled your hips and he slipped in deeper, groaning in disbelief, his brows furrowing at you.

“H-Hey!”

Your tongue pocketed in the side of your smirk and you fucked him right.

“Gah!”

Jungkook, too, fucked you right.

You lead the pace so he could bring the force of his hips. Ah, fuck, right there, like that, and you let him know, the cries tumbling out and mixing with his, rushing wave after wave pressing into you, filling you with his girth and his power. You brought the intensity, the flint to his flame, the break in his pride and Jungkook was looking down at you, shoulders flexed, jaw tight and eyes hazy, clear emotion swirling within them and you saw your own gaze fixated on him, wanting him more than you wanted the sex.

Oh.

Shit.

You gasped and dug your nails into his scalp, grasping the pillow and throwing your head back, not expecting the suddenness of your high, injected into your heartbeat and pushing all the air out of your lungs, veins ablaze with heat as your core clenched, inner walls throbbing all around him. Jungkook groaned, biting his lower lip and thrusting hard, the small mole underneath shaking just as hard as his shoulders, but he couldn’t hold back any longer, squeezing his eyes shut, muffled scream as he came, his head falling back, two tones the start of an ongoing, wanton melody.

“Holy… fuck…”

Well, more like unholy fuck but you didn’t correct him.

You kind of expected him to pull out and leave, but instead his head snapped back and he dived down, catching your lips and dripping sweat on you, making you both laugh. Kiss after kiss, all over your face, and you could barely sputter out – “Oi, you’re sweaty!” – but he didn’t care, kissing all over your cheeks and down your neck, your chest, slurping at your nipples, you narrowed your eyes at that but those playful eyes just sparkled with deviousness, trailing down, down.

Slowing.

Jungkook pressed his lips to your waist, looking up at you.

Your heart thundered against your chest and sparks danced over your skin.

Somehow at ease.

“What?”

You smiled down at him.

“I don’t ever want to leave your side.”

Your lips parted to give him a snappy comeback, yeah, well, I gotta go to work, but nothing came out.

Jungkook grinned, his whole face lighting up and dove between your legs, biting and kissing the inside of your thighs, attacking them with his menacing mouth.

“Hey! Oi! I’m sensitive, f-fuck!”

Even planting a fat wet kiss on your clit for good measure.

“Ah!”

Shoving his tongue in your pussy.

“YO!”

You gawked at his audacity, twisting away from him. Infuriatingly, he followed, scrambling for your ass.

“There was just a condom in there!”

“Ah, who cares,” said the one that clearly didn’t. “Kiss me.”

“Hell no!”

After cleaning up and pinning him down on his own bed and thoroughly scolding him, somehow you ended up making out with Jungkook and his fingers were in your pussy again. It sounded very wet and squishy down there, probably because you showed Jungkook just now much you liked kisses under your earlobe. His tongue against your skin, teeth nicking, sucking hard and making you moan and grind on his hand, pressing against his chest.

“Sit on my face,” he whispered in your ear.

Which was know you ended up grasping his headboard and his tongue between your legs, the piercing pressed against the left side of the outer lips. You kept your weight on your knees, but Jungkook grabbed your ass and tipped your hips at a different angle, your clit right on his tongue, his nose against your crotch.

“Fuuuuck, you smell so good…”

You could barely hear him but you felt him speak, gasping at the strange sensation of hot breath and swiping tongue, his lips wrapping around your most sensitive nerves. He had a much softer tongue, but there was consistency there and plenty of gusto. It helped, actually, to have his hands gripping your thighs, adding the amplifying pleasure of restraint. You rode his face, matching the movement of his tongue. One of your hands left the headboard. Trapped your nipples between your fingers and pulled at them, making Jungkook’s eyes go wide and watch eagerly, licking and sucking harder.

Layered and intricate, full of sensation and emotion, gazing down at him and smirking as the sparks turned into lightning and you soaked his face, shivering, tipping forward at the flinches of climax, swearing under your thin breath, panting, snapped tension draining you and wetly sticking to his lips, his tongue, his cheeks.

He shoved his tongue into your quivering pussy and you sucked in a breath, feeling your inner walls pulsate around his curling muscle, his low, gravelly moan filling what little air there was between his mouth and you, his satisfaction vibrating through your body and mixing with your afterglow.

You slid down his chest and kissed him again, tasting your subtle sweet-sour on his slick lips.

He wanted you to jack him off hard and fast, the fingers of your other hand splayed out over his chest, forgetting about anything else, time only a construct, your phones discarded by the door, and here, in this bed, there was only Jungkook and you, his cock pulsing in your grip, your foxy expression to his desperate one, his eyes rolling back in the intensity, biting down hard on the left side of his lip, the small mole underneath shaking in anticipation, the tendons of his neck popping out.

You raised your free hand and gently stroked his cheek with your knuckle as you punished his cock.

His lower lip popped out of his mouth and he groaned, rough and breathless.

“A-Ah, fuck!”

A hot stream of liquid dripping down the back of your hand, drenching you and him in the strong scent of sex. Thick and potent, and you leaned forward and kissed him deeply, tightly holding his jerking cock and squeezing it all out of him.

“You’re amazing,” Jungkook panted, even after getting up – once again – to attempt to clean up your collective mess.

“Mhm,” you hummed, sitting beside him. He was radiating heat. “I was never worried about that.”

“Hah… You’re… You’re crazy…”

You had obtained your phone and just now sent a message to your boss that you would be taking a sick day on Monday. You have plenty of those. “Speak for yourself.”

“I mean, you’re like… um… uh, oh! A semen demon…”

“What?”

You almost threw your phone in laughter. Actually, you couldn’t even hear Jungkook’s explanation for what the hell he meant by semen demon because you were laughing too hard, barely able to breathe. There wasn’t a normal explanation anyway – how could there be? – and you kept inelegantly snorting afterward at inappropriate times. Jungkook, for his part, seemed proud for making you laugh so much.

“You look so beautiful laughing.”

Your response was quick, immediate, and lighthearted.

“Shut up.”

He snuggled his still too warm head into the crook of your shoulder.

“Will you stay?”

You gave him a look and then showed him the sent text message on your phone. There was something special and perfect about the smile that lit up his face, clearly showing his devotion and clearly seeing yours.

“Yeah, I’ll stay.”

Jungkook skipped work too. Both of you ended up sleeping in.

--

masterpost

[cosmignon]

My absolute favorite thing about the Pikmin series after growing up only knowing it from smash bros is learning how much of a family man/wife guy Olimar is. I didn't even know he TALKED until like last year but now I would die for this tiny little family.

*blows a kiss down at the dirt* for Captain Olimar

(as a side note, I've experienced Pikmins 2,3, and 4 by watching the Frankenbugs Streams, which are very fun go check them out! Pikmin 4 playlist is here)

all image descriptions below cut:

ID #1: Various sketches of Olimar both in his normal state and leafified. As a leafling, Olimar is thinking "DANDORI" with the faint underlying thought "I miss my wife and kids". As a normal hocotatian Olimar is doing various things: leading his pikmin while thinking "Sometimes I wonder if the pikmin are just using me..." as the pikmin chant "dad, dad, dad" in their own language; holding a pikmin like a baby while thinking of his son and "Remember to support the neck"; Almost eating a pikmin in a tired stupor because he thinks it's a pikpik carrot, then hugging it and saying "SORRY! Sorry lil buddy my bad,," as other pikmin look on and "all want hugs now". End ID.

ID #2: Sketches of Olimar looking in a mirror and expressing surprise when he notices his hair is bright red, a lingering side-effect of being a leafling. He turns away and scratches his head as he mutters "...guess I have always told my wife I like redheads..." Additionally, sketches of leafling Olimar scratching his wife's face into the waxy exterior of a berry. End ID.

ID #3: A sketch of Olimar wearing classic disco clothes as he dances closer to his wife and a friend of hers. End ID.

ID #4: 2 sketches captioned by excerpts from Olimar's treasure entries in Pikmin 4. The first sketch is Olimar's wife wearing a hat, next to a screenshot of the berry the hat is based on, captioned "an uncanny resemblance to my wife wearing a hat." The second sketch is a younger Olimar (labled "smol Olimar, or smolimar") wearing a black leather jacket and subsequently getting extremely hot under the sun, captioned "turns out wearing a leather jacket during the peak of a Hocotate summer is a shortcut to getting a heat stroke." End ID.

ID #5: 4 sketches captioned by excerpts from Olimar's teasure entries in Pikmin 4. The first sketch is Olimar and his wife dressed for their wedding day, happily gazing up at an extravagent space themed wedding cake, captioned "At our wedding, our friends gave my wife and me a spaceship-shaped cake that looked a lot like this one." The second sketch is Olimar and his wife sitting on a suspended porch swing as his wife holds their swaddled newborn, captioned "When my first child was born, my wife and I would sit outside in the warm spring weather and take turns rocking him in our arms." The third sketch is Olimar's son as a baby honking his big nose, captioned "But once he knew the distinctive shape of my nose, he recognized me right away." The fourth sketch is Olimar's family playing Monopoly, his wife obviously being the leading player of the game while his children watch Olimar struggle to keep up, captioned "This pattern always reminds me of our family game nights." End ID.

[spacebubblehomebase]

Out of context reimagined parts from my new #HHStargazersAU!

⚠️ TW: Nerdy word vomit about my coloring choices ahead:

My take on human Chaggie & Radioapple's color scheme! Yes. I headcanon the Magnes as beautiful blondes with just as beautiful brown eyes. Because there's no WAY warm red & yellows translate to cool baby blues! If anything, Vaggie's eyes would be the lighter shade. (At least in my AU.) Because her canon eyes are white and I think the dark skin contrast nicely with blue. As for Alastor's green... Look. Give me a chance! I swear I can later explain it through lore!

As for their clothes, I just chose hell's red for Charline, heavenly hues for Vaggie, earthy colors for Alastor to balance the green (with some white rather than black to show his employment under the Magnes), and pastels for Lucius (though out of everyone in my story, he may undergo the most palette switches. Just saying).

Spoiler for my recent comic update: As you can see, Vaggie & Alastor's human disguises aren't perfect. Thus some parts of their hair remain unchanged. Vaggie's ineffable white bangs and Alastor's brown-passing too-vibrant red hair (which mind you, was a difficult balance to achieve. Specially to match the greens-) still ever so distinct. People think they dyed it, but I assure you, it's all natural~! Along with their near supernatural ability to charm. Lol. -Bubbly💙

[jaythes1mp]

Your secrets are ours, kid

Yandere BatFam x Reader — CH10 -> CH9 -> CH8 -> CH7 -> CH6 -> CH5 -> CH4 -> CH3 -> CH2 -> CH1

5528 words, 31958 characters, 321 sentences, 115 paragraphs, 22.1 pages.

Dick silently observed your sleeping form through meticulously concealed cameras around the room, a secret the family have kept even from Jason's knowledge.

He couldn't help but smile softly at the sight of you, cozily wrapped up in the soft woolen blankets he had masterfully orchestrated to be displayed on pop up ads all over your computer. Using Tim's hacking skills to flood your screen with countless ads for the snug blankets. He had spent months immersed in countless YouTube tutorials and enduring more pricks of his fingers from the knitting kits than he cared to admit. All in an effort to perfect the soft wool necessary to create the cozy blankets he observed you always instinctively seeking out when shopping, seeking to replicate that soothing comfort the same way your favourite sweaters did.

Dick waited quietly for over twenty minutes behind the front door, his phone held in his hand, with a soft grin playing on his lips. He knew the subtle creak of the wood would rouse you from your sleep, and he prepared himself to be the first thing you saw upon waking up.

Grayson couldn't help but coo softly as he observed you, looking around in confusion. You were so adorably clueless without your siblings to guide you, like a lost little bird.

He softly taps his knuckles against the door, but flinches backward as the wood creaks loudly, creating a resounding echo. He quickly checks his phone to see you flinching, and hisses under his breath, "Damn it."

He quickly flicks the app and pockets his phone, fiddling with his clothes to look perfect for your little outing.

After another five minutes of patient waiting, Dick drops his smile and knocks again, this time in a more rushed manner. He can't help but feel just a tad bit impatient, his fingers itching to see you.

He hears a soft thump and a low hiss followed by a curse, and Dick has to stifle a soft, amused chuckle. You must have toppled off of the couch, quite ungracefully, if the muffled cursing is any indication.

He glances down at his watch, noting the time - 01:24 PM. He muses mentally that there's still a good hour remaining before the reservation, plenty of time to coax you out of your cosy apartment and into some suitable clothes.

Dick hums a soft tune to himself as he waits, his fingers unconsciously fidgeting with the anxiety ring Tim had gifted him for Christmas. The fond smile on his lips widens as his deep ocean eyes crinkle with the gesture.

He straightens up, smoothing his hand delicately down his shirt as his gaze zeroes in on the door handle, listening intently to the distinct click as the lock disengages. A soft, sincere smile graces Dick's face as the door swings open to reveal you, disheveled and bleary-eyed. He can't help but find your drowsy appearance endearing.

Grayson’s voice comes out gruff and deeper than intended as he utters a soft, "Hey..." in greeting, the sound catching in his throat for the briefest of moments. He quickly gathers his composure, clearing his throat as he takes in your sleep-rumpled appearance. You looked even better in person.

The fond smile on your face was causing his heart to race. His baby bird. So grown up...

“What are you doing here so early, Grayson?” Hearing you speak jars Dick out of his thoughts, and he quickly runs his fingers through his hair, attempting to smooth it back into place. He can't help but imagine you calling him "big bro," the thought causing his heart to skip a beat, and he mentally berates himself for it.

"I wanted to see how my favourite little bird is doing," he responds with a crooked smile, trying to play it cool. Or rather, that’s how he wanted to reply. Unfortunately, his attempt to play it cool is thwarted. He aims to reply with a casual nonchalance, but instead, his words come out as a spluttering mess. "It's already past one," he manages to utter, his voice cracking halfway through the words. Dick inwardly cringes at the voice crack, mentally cursing himself for faltering so visibly. “It's not that early.”

"I came to see how you're doing," Dick swiftly recovers, leaning casually against the doorframe as he explains his unexpected arrival. "Jason gave me the address," he quickly responds, noticing the confusion etched across your face. He mentally chides himself for appearing so flustered, knowing he needs to come up with a plausible explanation for his sudden visit.

It isn't until your brows furrow and the question leaves your lips that he realises he may have inadvertently revealed his connection to Jason. His mind races for an excuse, realising he needs to tread carefully to avoid raising further suspicion. He hates having to lie to his baby birdy. You deserve to know the truth. But he also knows that Bruce is keeping the information from you for a reason.

Dick can feel his body tensing up, and he forces a soft chuckle past his lips, trying to act casual and nonchalant. His mind is racing, searching for a suitable response to diffuse the situation before you can continue questioning him. “You could... definitely say that.”

Before you can react, the older man swiftly brushes past you, stepping into the apartment and moving deeper into the living area. His sudden movement leaves you momentarily speechless. He almost chuckles at the surprise flashed all over your face.

As you part your lips to speak he quickly steps in, his gaze darting all over your face, committing every little pore and feature to memory. “We’ve got our reservation in an hour.” The man can't contain his excitement as he moves further into your flat, his gaze darting around the room with a poorly disguised smile. He's inside your home, in civilian clothes, while you're awake. This is a moment he's envisioned countless times, and he can't help the sense of giddiness that washes over him.

Your mind races as you follow Dick further into the apartment. A reservation? You weren't expecting any plans today, least of all with Dick. Questions dance on the tip of your tongue, waiting to be asked, but the time constraint and the sense of urgency in his words makes it impossible to voice them.

"Dick, what –” he promptly interrupts you with a firm glance, but instantly softens when he sees the pout on your face. His expression quickly changing to a sheepish one.

"No time for questions," he grins, casting a fond glance in your direction before reluctantly shifting his attention to the surrounding apartment in search of something suitable for you to wear.

As Dick begins walking around the living area, he swiftly and efficiently sets about collecting a variety of clothing items. He snatches up a hoodie, a pair of shoes, and a jacket before adding them to the growing pile beside him. He carefully lays out the garments as he proceeds to plan your entire outfit for the day, as if he's already made up his mind about how you should look.

He maneuvers around the apartment carefully, avoiding any of Jason's clothes like second nature. He's all too familiar with the other boy's habit of leaving his belongings scattered around recklessly. He has no intention of stepping into the minefield that is Jason's mess. Rolling his eyes affectionately at the sight before him, Dick couldn’t help but find the scene slightly endearing.

His mind flicks through the various pieces of clothing he knows are in your closet, but he quickly shakes his head in dismissal. This will have to do for now. He scoops up the collection of clothes, folding them neatly and slinging the stack of clothing over your shoulder cheekily.

He takes a brief pause, his deep ocean eyes locking onto your own for a moment. Searching for something that he seems to find in your expression. A subtle smile tugs at the corners of his mouth before he turns away to begin searching the room for a bag.

You catch the clothes before they can fall to the floor, raising a quiet eyebrow as you look at Dick. "Are you asking me to change now?" you ask, your voice tinged with mild amusement. God, he loved your voice. He's mesmerized by the sweetness in your tone, the way your words seem to dance effortlessly off your tongue. He could listen to you talk all day, every day. It was like music to his ears. The sweet, hypnotising tone that seemed to always reel him in. His baby bird.

His gaze shifts to the area where he recalls seeing a bag on the surveillance footage from last week, when you had used it to buy some pet food. His eyes roam over the floor, searching intently for the bag he had spotted before. “Not particularly asking," A grin tugs at his lips as he spots the small backpack shoved underneath a chair in the corner. Triumphant, he moves over and picks it up, the familiar canvas material gripped in his hand. "It's more of a gentle suggestion."

He turns back to you, holding up the backpack with a victorious expression on his face. "Found the bag," he declares, throwing it towards you. Without missing a beat, he resumes his search, scannings the room diligently with meticulous attention to detail. His gaze doesn't miss a single spot, methodically checking every corner as if it were second nature to him.

"Why do we need a bag?" Your voice cuts through the room, causing Dick to shift his attention back towards you. He silently scolds himself, suppressing the overwhelming desire to croon at the innocent confusion in your tone. In his eyes, you're like a little lost bird, fluttering around cluelessly, desperately in need of guidance from your big brother.

He takes a moment to steady himself, his shoulders visibly relaxing slightly. He moves closer to you, bridging the small distance that separates you. Resting his weight on the back of a chair, his gaze locks onto yours. His voice is soft and tender, a gentle attempt to soothe your curiosity. "We just do," he reiterates gently, as if hoping to ease your confusion.

He leans in further, his voice taking on a more soothing tone. "Don't worry about it," he says slowly, his words meant to assure any anxiety.

His response leaves you frustrated, the vagueness doing little to satisfy your curiosity. Huffing in annoyance, you turn on your heel and stride down the corridor with purposeful steps. You march into your bedroom, closing the door behind you with an audible click, effectively shutting him out. Dick remains in the room, watching your hasty exit with a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. In his eyes, your childish huffiness was nothing short of adorable.

He steps forward and leans his weight against the side of the couch, a tender smile playing on his lips. He listens intently to the soft rustling sounds coming from behind the closed door, where you are presumably changing. Though he can't see you, he is intimately aware of your every movement, each shuffle of fabric echoing in the room like a secret. The closed door serves as a deceptive veil of privacy, one that holds little power in his eyes.

He continues to listen, his sharp senses picking up every subtle sound from behind the door. The soft thud of your footsteps, the quiet sigh as you pull on a shirt, the gentle whisper of fabric against skin. He can almost picture the way your body would move, and a part of him wishes he could see each motion, commit it to memory.

The desire that wells within him is not one of a sexual nature. Instead, it is a yearning for a deeper, more intimate connection. For the kind of trust that comes from being laid completely bare, defenseless. He longs for a moment when you are vulnerable before him, stripped of all defenses and pretences. Where you place unwavering trust in him, giving him the chance to truly cherish and protect you, to cherish the trust you place in him as you reveal your true self. It’s what he yearns for.

Dick's gaze flickers up at the sound of the door handle turning, his eyes immediately fixating on your form as you step out of the bedroom. The sight of you wearing the clothes he had carefully chosen fills him with satisfaction. Each piece fits you just like he had envisioned, and he can't help but admire the way the fabric drapes over your frame.

He casually pushes himself away from the couch, his gaze trailing over your figure with open appreciation. His smile widens as he moves closer, closing the distance between you until he stands within an arm’s length away.

He reaches out, his fingers gently brushing the fabric of your shirt, as if he can't help himself. "Looks good," he murmurs, a hint of pride and possessiveness in his voice. The words spoken lower than a whisper, as if he’s talking to himself.

“See, didn’t I pick the best outfit?" he teases, his voice gentle and affectionate. He reaches out to tug lightly on the sleeve of your hoodie, a soft smile playing on his lips. The fabric is smooth and soft under his touch, and he takes a moment to simply savor the feeling of it against his fingers.

He tilts his head in a subtle move, his gaze tracing over every contour of your face. His eyes rove over your features, meticulously cataloguing them in his memory. It’s an unconscious act, a silent check to confirm that you're alright, that you're there and safe. Just within his reach.

Dick looks up, instantly recognising the irritation in your stance. It's a sight all too familiar, one reminiscent of a certain Damian. Your arms crossed defiantly, like a petulant child. He can't help but let a sheepish smile tug at the corner of his mouth. "What's that look for?" he teases, attempting to dissipate the tension. He can almost hear Tim's voice in the back of his mind, commenting on how much you resemble the youngest Wayne.

Your eyes narrow slightly, the irritation etched deep in your expression. Frustration is evident as you shift uneasily on your feet in the silence that follows. The atmosphere feels charged, weighed down by the unspoken.

Finally, you cut through the tension. Your tone is firm, demanding as you address him directly. "Dick, seriously," you say abruptly, cutting off any attempt at banter. "Why am I changing? Where are we going? You're being ridiculously vague."

Dick lets out a resigned sigh, his smile faltering slightly under the weight of your direct question. He had been hoping to delay this conversation until later, but he's aware that your persistence won’t allow for any evasion.

He runs a hand through his hair, messing up the neatly styled locks. His expression turns serious as he locks his gaze with yours. While the constant questioning can occasionally be irksome, he can’t help but find a certain charm in it, that endearing childlike curiosity that often drives you.

The answer is simple, stated as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “We’re going out.” It’s a straightforward statement, short and lacking in any further details or context. He preens at the way your face contorts in confusion. You looked cute.

You're about to question him, craving more details about the plan, but before you can utter a word, Dick interrupts. He holds up his hand, preemptively stopping any further inquiry. "And before you ask," he starts, his voice steady, "I can't tell you where." His gaze gleams with amusement.

His voice is steady and unwavering, carrying a firmness that leaves no room for debate. But deep in his eyes, a flicker of conflicting emotions dances - a mixture of concern and determination. Dick understands that he can't divulge everything just yet. He knows the truth has to remain hidden, cloaked in secrecy. However, as he gazes at you at this very moment, his heart clenches. It's difficult to keep the truth from you, to prevent himself from simply sweeping you away right in that instant. His contemplation abruptly comes to a halt as you take a step closer to him, closing the distance between you.

You let out a soft sigh, moving closer to him. Your arms are held out, your annoyance evident in the slight pout on your face. The action sparks a tightening sensation in Dick's chest, his heart reacting instinctively to the sight of you waiting with your arms open, an unspoken plea for affection.

Your pout brings about an immediate transformation in Dick. His manner softens, a fond chuckle escaping his lips as he recognises the familiar indication of frustration. In response, he pushes himself off the couch and moves closer, promptly wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you against him.

His embrace is firm and secure, an unspoken message of reassurance. His chest brushes against yours with each breath, a comforting presence. He pulls you against him, your body fitting perfectly in the space between his arms. Dick buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your familiar scent.

He tightens his arms around you, drawing you closer to his chest. In another context, he would likely take the opportunity to tease you about your pout, a behaviour he always finds endearing. But in this moment, there's a sense of urgency that hangs heavy on his shoulders. A silent understanding flickers in his eyes, and he pulls you even closer, his breath warm against your skin.

He senses the tension that courses through your form, the frustration and confusion palpable in your stance. In response, he begins to gently run his hands up and down your back, trying to ease the anxiety that clings to your body. His fingers press softly into your skin, a familiar touch that he hopes brings a sense of comfort. At the thought of you being upset, he feels a wave of protective anger wash over him. After all, no one should hurt his little sibling. Ever.

Dick rests his chin on the top of your head, his eyes closing for a moment. He can feel the rise and fall of your chest against his, the rhythm of your breathing, the steady beat of your heart. He memorizes each sensation, committing them to memory.

He takes a deep breath, the scent of your shampoo filling his nose. He inhales deeply, the familiar fragrance calming his nerves. He can hear your own steadying breaths, the soft exhale against his chest.

Holding you close in his embrace, he murmurs into the softness of your hair, his words carrying the weight of sincere reassurance. "Trust me, okay?" he says, his voice resolute. There's no room for argument, only a plea for your unwavering trust.

He feels your response in an instant, your arms encircling him tightly and pulling him closer to you, their grip firm yet tender. As you look up at him, a small, tentative smile begins to form on your lips, the earlier irritation dissolving under the soothing presence of his proximity.

The furrow between your eyebrows softens, replaced by the hint of a smile. The stiffness in your frame begins to subside, the aggravation gradually fading away as he continues to hold you, his touch working its magic. You're blissfully unaware of the effect you have on him, each little expression making his heart swell.

A wave of warm affection washes over him as he gently pushes a strand of hair out of your face. His hand then moves to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing the contour of your skin affectionately. His words, soft and soothing, break the silence. "Ready to go?" The image of you, nestled in his arms, is so vividly etched into his mind that he never wants to forget it. In that moment, you were his. His baby bird.

You roll your eyes, the gesture lighthearted and amusing. You lean your head into his touch, your features relaxing into a softer expression.

"I guess," you say, adding a touch of sarcasm. Despite the ambiguity and the unanswered questions, there's a sense of reassurance in being with him. The bond between you is deep-rooted. In that moment he knows that you trust him completely.

A wide grin spreads across Dick's face as you pull away, his arms dropping to his sides. The mixture of curiosity and subtle irritation in your eyes amuses him. He meets your gaze, his own eyes sparkling with a hint of his characteristic playfulness. "You'll find out soon enough; no need to worry." Even though the words are casual, the undertone of his voice indicates a barely concealed desperate urge to pull you back into his embrace.

He turns away, picking his jacket up from the back of a chair. He slings it over his shoulder, gesturing towards the door. “C'mon, we've got a reservation to catch.”

Dick leads you down a quieter street, away from the hustle and bustle of the main road. The ambiance of the area is distinctly more upscale, the shops and restaurants here a noticeable step above the rest of the city. A place he’s spent countless hours researching. It’s perfect for you, it’s got the food you like, it’s one of the lowest crime rates in the city, and the family has full control of the surrounding areas.

He guides you towards the charming little bistro, the soft light of the outdoor lanterns creating chiaroscuro patterns on his features. Dick can't help himself; his hand moves instinctively to tousle your untamed, bedraggled hair, a fond gesture of affection.

A satisfied smirk lights up Dick's face, his confidence evident. "Told you I've got this under control," he gestures toward the entrance. "Let's go."

Dick opens the door, gesturing for you to enter before him. The restaurant's interior exudes refinement, but he barely spares it a glance, his focus entirely on you as he allows himself to admire you.

Immediately, a sharply dressed host approaches, her spine ramrod straight and chin held high. Dick's voice is assured and unruffled. "Reservation for Grayson," he states, his manner self-assured and laid-back. The host already is aware, of course, but Dick is well aware he needs to keep you from posing any unnecessary queries.

The waitress gives a knowing nod, sharing a silent understanding with Dick. She affixes her most polite smile and phrases her question with a courteous tone, "The four-in-one show, is it?"

"That’s the one," he responds casually. The waitress nods in agreement and leads the way to the reserved area. Dick naturally gravitates toward you, his hand finding its way back to your waist, the touch both possessive and reassuring as he tenderly guides you.

The reserved area is tucked away in a remote corner of the restaurant, deliberately secluded from the main dining area. It's a cozy, intimate space adorned with soft lighting, a small circular table topped with sparkling glassware, and padded, inviting armchairs.

Dick courteously draws out your chair for you, waiting patiently until you are comfortably seated before taking his seat opposite you.

He hums, watching over you for a moment before the silence is broken. "What the hell was the waitress talking about?" you ask, leaning your cheek against your palm.

Dick gives a soft chuckle as he settles into his seat across from you, a sly smile tugging at his lips. "You’ll see," he answers in a purposely vague manner, his eyes nonchalantly roaming over the leather-bound menu. However, his attention is not fully focused on the menu. His gaze drifts towards you as he steals furtive glances, observing every move you make with a hawk-like intensity that only an older brother has.

Dick observes your struggle for a few moments, watching as you squint at the small, intricate script scrawled across the menu. He can’t help but chuckle softly, the endearing sight amusing him.

"Struggling there, birdie?" he teases with a smirk. The name slipping past his lips absently.

"How can anyone read this?" He watches you toss the menu down, slouching back in your chair in frustration. Dick grins warmly at your disgruntled expression and reassures you, a touch of humor in his voice. "You get used to it," he informs you, the hint of amusement in his tone evident. "Reading these fancy menus is all part of the experience, y’know."

He leans back in his chair, folding his hands on the tabletop. He takes a moment to observe you as you continue to mutter and fuss, clearly not appreciating the fanciful script and intricate typography on the menu. Inwardly, he wanted nothing more than to gush over how adorable you looked with that disgruntled expression plastered across your face.

"Whoever made these is a sadist," Dick chuckles deeply, the sound echoing in the small, intimate space, making the air feel even more private. "You're right," he confirms, his tone laced with a hint of amusement. "But don't worry," he assures you, a grin forming on his lips. "I'll step in to help you read the rest, if needed."

Your eyes narrow as you respond defensively. "I'm not a child. I don’t need help to read." the eldest brother clenches his teeth firmly, struggling to hold back a heated retort. he bites his tongue. But you are.

Dick expertly buries his inner thoughts beneath a veneer of false joviality, holding up his hands in an exaggerated gesture of surrender. His forced smirk attempts to mask his true feelings, as he replies in that charming manner of his. "Hey, I never said you did," he says smoothly, his tone still even and lighthearted.

"I was just offering my services as a personal menu translator," he teases, smirk deepening as you roll your eyes playfully, clearly enjoying your little bit of banter.

"You're cute when you're stubborn," he comments, the compliment slipping out almost effortlessly, like it's something he says every day. And when it comes to you, it really is.

Dick leans back in his chair, lifting the glass of water to his lips and taking a measured sip. A momentary silence descends upon the conversation as both of you stare down at the menu, each of you lost in your own thoughts. After a brief pause, he speaks up once again, the quiet finally broken.

Dick couldn't help but laugh again in response to your indignant hiss. Your defiant, pouty expression was just too adorable to resist, an almost complete 180 from your usual demeanor. "So," he asks casually, "finding anything interesting on there? Or is it all just gibberish to you?" You shoot a glare in his direction, muttering a frustrated "Oh, shut up."

"Hey," Dick returns with a teasing smile, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "It’s not my fault you can’t read fancy, tiny writing." Leaning forward, he rests his forearms on the tabletop as he continues, his tone more earnest now. "Seriously, though, have you found anything you'd like? I can order for us if you'd like," the peace offering clear in his voice.

A small smile graces your lips as you finally set the menu aside. Leaning back into the chair, you place your arms over your chest and turn to Dick, addressing him with a faux-dramatic flair. "Alright, Mr. Fancy Menu Translator," you declare. "Surprise me." Dick grins widely, thoroughly pleased at your response. He lifts an eyebrow, savoring the moment before speaking again. "Challenge accepted," he replies, his tone filled with playful confidence.

"Surprise it is then." Dick chuckles softly, his gaze flickering over the menu, though it is clear that his attention is entirely on you, rather than the list of dishes. With a smooth precision, he signals for a nearby waiter and places your orders with expert ease. Once the waiter steps away, his gaze turns back to you, a proud smirk plastered on his face.

"Alright, you're in my hands now," Dick's smirk deepens, your name rolling effortlessly off his tongue. You roll your eyes dramatically in response to his conceited attitude, though inside you can't deny the quiet thrill it sparks in you. He always knew how to keep things exciting and engaging. "In your hands, huh?" you muse, arching an eyebrow in a faux-skeptical manner. "Should I be worried?"

The warm, cerulean depths of Dick’s eyes follow your movements closely, noticing the unconscious way you shift towards him, as if seeking out his presence. A wave of protectiveness washes over him, yearning to envelop you in his embrace and keep you safe forever. But he quells the urge, choosing to bask in the moment, relishing the time he has to spend with you. "Oh, I think you should be very worried.”

Grayson leans forward, matching your position and bringing himself closer to you across the table. In a soft, almost imperceptible gesture, he subtly brushes his knee against yours beneath the tabletop, the touch gentle and affectionate.

"But don’t worry," he adds, his tone shifting into something slightly more genuine. "I’ll take good care of you."

You grimace and let out a mock gag, dramatically clutching your stomach as a playful response. Your voice drips with sarcasm as you shoot back, “What, did you steal that from a soap opera?”

Dick feigns offence, a hand dramatically flying to his chest as he gasps dramatically. "Me? Steal from a soap opera? I’m wounded," he grins, his tone equally as sarcastic as yours. Nose scrunching up in extra flair. He revels in this moment, you were acting like true siblings would. He wonders if you somehow know, if you’re somehow aware, but he squishes down the thought.

"You’re supposed to swoon, by the way. That’s usually the natural response to such declarations.”

"Sorry to disappoint," you reply dryly. "I’ll be sure to swoon next time. Maybe I’ll even swoon so hard I fall out of my seat." Dick chuckles heartily at your retort, the sound deep and genuine.

"Careful there," he teases. "I’d hate for you to give yourself a concussion. I’m still enjoying my night." He reaches out to gently pinch your cheek before pulling his hand away, his smile still firmly in place.

You scoff at the action, leaning back in your chair and rubbing your cheek. A soft glare thrown his way. "Stop it," you warn, though your tone lacks any real seriousness. "You’re such a child sometimes."

Dick grins unrepentantly, clearly unworried about your 'warning.'

"You love it," he says, his tone cocky as ever. He has the smug expression of someone who knows exactly how true his statement is.

"I do not," he holds back a giggle at your huff. You narrow your eyes. "You're infuriating, you know that?"

Dick grins wider, clearly satisfied with your response. He leans back in his seat, his arms crossing over his chest.

"Oh, I know," he replies, his tone smug. "But you love it, admit it."

“It sounds like you’re just trying to get me to tell you that.” You shoot him an unimpressed look, which Grayson shoulders almost too easily. He tilts his knee further into your own, seeking out your warmth.

"And if I am?" he responds, that cocky grin still on his face.

Dick leans forward yet again, the proximity between you decreasing with every movement. His intense stare remains unwavering, fixed intently upon your eyes. "Admit that you love it when I tease you," he murmurs, a hint of mischief in his voice, "and I’ll stop."

Dick can barely contain the storm of emotions churning inside him at the thought of you confessing your feelings first. His heart soars with elation and giddiness, his mind spinning with sheer joy. My baby bird. In his mind, he silently pleads say it. Please, just say you love me.

"Yeah, alright. Whatever. So what if I do?" You respond with a reluctant shrug, leaning back against the chair, feigning nonchalance. Dick's heart skips a beat, the nonchalant dismissal causing a surge of excitement within him. It takes all his self-control to contain the overwhelming rush of emotions bubbling up inside.

Dick grins widely in response, the triumph in his voice evident as he gloats. "See? Was that so hard?" he teases. "Admitting that you love my teasing." His smirk widens even further, the cocky satisfaction of knowing he has you wrapped around his finger all too clear.

He moves his elbow onto the table, resting his chin against the palm of his hand as he stares at you intently. A smoldering, almost intense look in his eyes, the playfulness in his tone masking the deeper emotions hidden beneath. "I knew you couldn't resist my charm," he drawls, his voice dropping even lower, filled with a mixture of smugness and possessiveness. You can't help but snort at his arrogance.

“Dick.”

Your voice causes him to pout involuntarily. The way you say it makes him think you're not actually calling out his name, and a frown momentarily mars his features.

No use of y/n, no descriptive features used, no gender mentioned.

Tag list: @zero-s-tea @chemicalsandghosts @yandere-enthusiast @starsdotalk @small-mushroom-fae @wpdarlingpan @dhanyasri @tojislvrr @phoenixgurl030 @mel-star636 @lilyalone @lavender-moony @nickey-diano @sociallyakwardpanda @obsessedwithromance @thickerthanthieves @nckcn @xxrougefangxx @th0rn118 @gaozorous-rex-blog @lyl-3 @wtf-am-i-doing-with-my-life-help @snowy-violets @atsukogikoshi @eyeless-kun @soriansick

[ktsumu]

18+ NSFT MDNI. SHOWER ACTION.

You already know that Atsumu's in the shower before you hear him in it, nudging the front door shut behind you, heels falling off of your groaning feet. The first matchup of the pre-season has ensured that.

Muscle memory makes you step over the routine dufflebag he drops in the very middle of the entryway, shaking the strap off of your ankle when it catches. His sweater's on the back of the couch.

You'd take it down the hallway with you, but you follow the clothes like a roadmap instead. Toeing along, kicking his track pants out of the way with a scoff, rolling your eyes and wondering how he completely missed the hamper.

An athlete, he calls himself.

The shower turns your bedroom hot, steaming up the windows from the open ensuite door, the mirror dripping with water. You can feel the humidity ruining the hair you worked so hard to keep tidy this morning.

"Atsumu?" You sigh, tugging it loose and glancing at him through the mirror.

It's more so what you can see of him— the frosted glass of the shower punishes you mostly, keeps you to watching his blurry body turn, his head twist to your voice. You can see him turn to face the water again.

"Hey baby. How's work?"

"I'm gonna guess better than the game today?" You pick up his sweaty jersey with your foot, taking in the distinct yet familiar smell of sharp pines and locker room. "Judging by the state of our home."

Atsumu breathes out sheepishly, but it sounds like a grin. "I'll clean it all up, don't worry."

"I know you will."

"Yeah, for sure." He hesitates, humming when he rubs at the crook of his neck. "Maybe tomorrow morning? Swear."

You don't care when he cleans it up, really. Your eyes haven't left the shower.

Quietly, you start to undo your blouse, shrugging it off of your shoulders and peeling it off of your sticky skin. You toss it near Atsumu's abandoned shorts.

"Been in there a while?" you huff, blindly turning on the fan. "Hot as hell in here."

"Everything hurts," he groans. "Fuckin' hate coming off the off-season— not used to it."

You purse your lips. "Gonna stay in for a little while longer?"

It's quiet, aside from the shower running. His shadow moves, leans closer to the glass before standing upright again. His hands tease you over the top, combing through his hair.

"If someone wants to keep me company, can't really say no."

(He must sense your eyes rolling, because he chuckles and slips the door open a crack.)

You shimmy your tight skirt down your legs, stepping out of everything embarrassingly fast. Your cami ends up hanging off the sink and your pantyhose are in a ball, but Atsumu's waiting hand has you getting inside the shower as fast as you can manage.

Where he isn't drenched in water, he's painted by a thin sheen of heat, the steam of the shower dripping down his temple. His hand welcomes you first, guiding you closer so his lips can greet you next.

Atsumu rests a hand on the side of your face, droplets of water swarming down your chest like snakes. He kisses you sloppily, tongue trying at yours the second you let him, teeth grazing your lip when you pull away like he's begging you to stay.

"Sore, huh?"

His eyes travel down— over your chest, sternum, hips. His hands follow in the same order like a drill— tits, chest, beautiful, beautiful hips. "Forget I said anything 'bout that,"

"You should rest, really,"

"Stop teasin' me, it's just cruel," he frowns, "need you to give me a cure tonight,"

"Yeah? It's called eight hours of sleep and Voltaren."

He rolls his eyes, lidded with said sleep— the hand holding yours that pulls you closer and his half-hard cock between you say something entirely different.

Atsumu's hand gropes your ass, fingertips dinging into fat until you get impossibly closer, until he's basically against your stomach and you're basically just looking at his lips.

"You should—"

"Should," he emphasizes, murmured against your mouth as he kisses you again, chaste but lingering, "but this is what I'm actually gonna do."

"What?"

"You," he hums, tucking a strand of your half-wet hair behind your ear, blocking the water and hoarding you to himself. "Gonna be my cleanse."

You snort, fingers smoothing over his abs and down to the base of his cock, nails gently running over the dark trail of hair. "That right?"

"Mmmyeah," he says through a groan, yawning before he slots a hand in between your legs, trailing it up your inner thigh as you finally get him in your hand. It's the only place he's wanted to be all night, besides your bed. "Feel so fuckin' good, fuck,"

You sigh against his chest, tilting your head up to taste him again. Like spearmint, like the gum he must've chewed on the drive home just knowing you'd end up here.

"Shit, alright," he sighs, hips lazily rolling into your palm as you look up at him with eyes that make him wanna pass out.

"Gotta choose now— you wanna be on your knees first or do ya want 'em over my shoulders?"

You breathe out a laugh, sliding your hands over his slippery arms, over every muscled ridge as you lower yourself to the tile floor, kissing his hip when you get there. "Romantic, really."

Atsumu's body tilts your way, chasing your lips down, leaning into your touch as he brushes a thumb over your cheek. The kiss you place on his flushed tip is greatly appreciated— he lets you know it.

"Yeah, honey, I try," he breathes. He smiles so warmly down at you that it's almost like you're not about to suck him off. "Just wait until I get you to bed, yeah?"

"We both know you're falling asleep."

"Well, after we get outta here you will be, too."

"Mm, we'll see."

Atsumu barks a laugh, delicately running his hand up your nape before taking a stronger hold on the base of your hair.

"Oh, you're so on."

[woso-dreamzzz]

Natalia IV

Hardersson x Daughter!Reader

Natalia Guijarro (OC) x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adeventures Universe

Summary: Magda finds out

Spending time back home in Sweden is a must.

When you're not playing for your club and you're not playing for your country, you come home to your mothers to decompress.

Talia usually comes along for the ride as well as Reina, Kung and Prins.

Reina seems to enjoy the big house your mothers own and makes herself at home, stretched out on the back of the sofa. Kung has his own little set up in the corner of the living room and amuses himself by hopping around and trying to burrow into old clothes.

Prins is extremely happy with all the long walks he gets taken on now and thrives in the snow when you let him off the leash as well as spending a relaxing evening nap in front of the fire.

Your favourite bit is being cuddled up with someone, under a thick blanket watching whatever mindless tv you can find.

Like now as you and Pernille laze around.

Talia's across the room, typing away on her laptop while the distinct smell of your favourite dish wafts in from the kitchen.

Magda comes in, wiping her hands on a dishcloth.

"Dinner's ready in about ten minutes," She says, taking a seat on one of the armchairs and pulling out her phone to scroll mindlessly on social media.

You can tell what kind of things are coming up on it just by how her brow is scrunched up and the music playing from her phone speakers.

"Edits again, Magda?" Pernille laughs," You're a masochist."

"I..." Magda shakes her head," I just don't get it. She's still a baby. She's not meant to be attractive."

No one needs to ask who the 'she' in her statement is.

Talia grins. "I find her attractive."

Magda waves a dismissive hand. "You're an outlier."

A little laugh bubbles out of you. "I'm trying not to be offended here."

"You're a beautiful girl, princesse," Magda says," So beautiful but I don't like the fact that other people are recognising that."

"Don't worry, Magda!" Talia teases," I've got her under lock and key! No one's taking her from me!"

Magda lets out a long suffering sigh that you and Pernille giggle about.

"Did you have to choose that one?"

"Hey! I'm right here!"

You nod. "I love her, Morsa."

Magda huffs and goes back to her phone. "I mean, really? How many hand edits can one account need?"

She shows her phone and you're not surprised that it's Talia's secret one. It's somewhat of a fan favourite and you can tell your girlfriend's feeling a little bit smug when she ducks her head with a grin.

"And the captions!"

"I quite like the captions," You say, burrowing a bit further into Pernille's body as her arm curls around you.

"What are the captions like?" She asks and you laugh.

"Unhinged."

Talia's properly grinning now as she stares down at her laptop.

Pernille frowns when she watches your eyes dart towards your girlfriend and the both of you share a secret smile.

Magda's still ranting and raving about this one account and you and Talia just can't seem to help yourselves as you giggle and smile at one another.

"And there's a Twitter account too!" Magda continues, clicking the link to the attached Twitter account, which ends up being a fanpage to you.

"Magda," Pernille admonishes, coming to the conclusion that you and Talia know something they don't about both accounts," Honestly, it's just a fanpage. We had plenty of them back in the day."

"But this is different! This is our daughter! I don't need to know that people want to sleep with her!"

"They can try," Talia mutters under her breath and you stick your tongue out at her.

Magda's ranting falls silent though, not that you and Talia have noticed as you squabble about the fact that you wouldn't even notice whether someone was trying to sleep with you or not.

"Magda...What is it?"

Magda's still silent though and Pernille gently pushes you away so she can go to her wife's side.

"Magda? Is something wrong? What is it?"

In answer, Magda turns her phone around.

It's a picture of a pair of feet stretched out on a ottoman. It looks simple enough and Rocky's hanging out on the shelf nearby.

"It looks fine, Magda."

"No," Magda says, face pale," That's Princesse's house."

"I know. Rocky's right there."

"No," Magda says," You don't understand. It's the fan account!"

"What?"

"This was posted to the fan account!"

It suddenly dawns on Pernille as to why you and Talia kept smiling at each other.

Talia is the one who owns a fan page dedicated to you.

"She's got a stalker! They've broken into her house!"

Pernille sighs. "Magda. Just take a few seconds to actually think about this."

To help her along, Pernille purposely flicks her eyes towards Talia.

Clarity dawns in Magda's face moments later and her mouth open and closes like a fish.

"She-?"

"Yes, Magda."

"The edits-?"

"Yes, Magda."

"Oh my god."

Magda's sudden leap to her feet has you and Talia stop giggling amongst yourselves and you turn in confusion to look at her.

"Morsa? Is something wrong?"

"Natalia Guijarro! You've been making hand edits about my daughter?!"

[luveline]

is it too late to request a Father’s Day request for kbd steve?🥹

KBD —Steve starts his Father’s Day. mom!reader, 1k

“What does that mean?” 

Steve leans back, baby toothbrush in hand, baby toothpaste dripping down Dove’s chin. “What does what mean?” 

“Father’s Day.” She licks her lip. 

“Dove, don’t eat it.” He rinses her toothbrush and beckons her carefully on her stepping stool to the sink. “Come spit, honey.” 

Dove spits her toothpaste. Steve grins, leaning over her, turning on the faucet and grabbing a handful of warm water to wipe her face. She spits again into his hand, but he’s unphased, wiping her down and turning off the water. 

She turns expectedly for a towel. Steve brings it to her face and dabs her dry gently. “Father’s Day just means a day for dad’s.” 

“Day to do what?” 

“It’s sort of like a birthday. Like, a day for children to show they love their daddy’s.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “So if you really love me, Dove, today’s the day to show it.” 

Her lashes kiss her eyebrows as her eyes widen. “Today?” 

“It’s today, yeah.” 

Steve looks down on her, his little baby with her mom’s surprised face and his everything else, give or take. She’s getting so smart, but she’s still so small, Steve can pick her up like a couple of cans of tinned pears. She’s never heavy, just whiny. She looks up at him and he can see a few cogs still turning. 

“Babe,” he says, holding her face softly, “it’s not a big deal. Every day we spend together is a good day, so you don’t have to worry. I love my girl, I love all my girls, and I’m just excited for mom’s big breakfast.” 

“I love you, too,” she says seriously. 

He smooths the temporary wrinkle from between her eyebrows. “I love you more. Are we all done in the bathroom? Do you need to pee before we go have breakfast?” 

She doesn’t need a pee. Dove offers her hand and he takes it, helping her down from the stool, and guiding her out of the bathroom back to the master bedroom. You’re sitting on the made bed with Wren laying down beside you, freshly changed and dressed for what feels like the millionth time. 

“Hey. Did you brush?” you ask him. 

“We both brushed, duh.” Steve leans down behind Dove to frame her shoulders proudly. “Show mom your pearly whites, baby.” 

Dove beams. You pick Wren up and prop her, smiling and quiet, on your knee to see Dove’s teeth. “Woah, look at that, Wren. Look at Dove’s clean teeth, aren’t they perfect?” 

Wren gurgles with a distinct sense of sisterly love. Wren and Dove get along well, all the girls do, but Steve believes there’s been a faction forming between Beth and Avery, so he’s glad for Dove’s fondness as she steps away from him to try and give the baby a hug. Wren doesn’t know enough to hug back yet, but you do. 

“Come on, let’s go have breakfast,” Steve says, sparing a glance behind you for the spoils of Father’s Day. There are some clothes, some candies, and a favourite tray of crafts made through teamwork for Steve to display at his discretion. He couldn’t be any luckier. 

You’re smiling too as you follow him out of the bedroom. You usually are, to be fair to you, you’ve always smiled around Steve because you’re both remarkable idiots in love with one another after everything, because of everything. Steve can’t believe he gets to be in one of those marriages that get stronger each year, and occasionally you return the sentiment aloud, whispering something kind in his ear when you’re both almost sleeping. They don’t have a word for how much I love you, H. 

He catches you for a quick kiss pressed to your cheek as you reach the bottom of the stairs. 

“Oh, thanks,” you mumble, rubbing your cheek against your shoulder in a mock demureness that actually makes his heart skip a beat. If he does it enough times, your faking it will become real. 

He kisses you again. “Beautiful,” he says. 

“Thanks,” you say again, your tone tipping into shyness, just a touch. 

“I’m beautiful,” Dove says. 

She paws at Steve’s leg. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, ushering her forward to make room for everyone to keep walking. “Dove, I think you’re the most beautiful three nearly four year old in the whole wide world.” 

“Am I the most beautiful…” Bethie pauses, standing on a chair at the table, her nightie creased but her hair done and out of her face. “How old am I?” she asks. 

“Six!” Steve says. “You don’t remember how old you are?” 

“I forgot.” She frowns, and then she shakes it off. “Daddy, we’re setting the table.” 

“And you’re doing such a good job!” He turns his head one way and the other, searching their tired kitchen for his eldest girl. “Avery, where’d you go?” he asks. 

She pops up in front of him with a roar. “Got you!” she declares, wrapping her arms around his legs. 

“You think so?” He grabs her under the arms and lifts her. She’s much heavier than the rest of her sisters, but she’s his big girl, so of course she is. Steve isn’t too old as to carry her yet, letting her torso fall forward, her back to his chest as he hangs her upside down. 

She bursts into terrified laughter. “Dad, put me down! You’re dropping me!” 

“How many times do we have to go over this, Ave? I have never dropped you. I will never drop you.” He chuckles nonchalantly. “Looks like I’m the one that got you.” 

“You’re not funny, dad!” 

“I’m very funny.” He manages to get her the right way round again, and puckers his lips for a kiss. She doesn’t kiss him. “Avery, it’s Father’s Day. You can’t be mad at me ‘cos that’s illegal.” 

“You’re illegal.” 

“Just one little kiss?” he asks softly. 

“You have to!” Dove says, attempting to climb onto the chair with Beth, your hand behind her back. “Avery, it’s Father’s Day.” 

“I know, Dove, he just said that!” 

Still, Steve gets his kisses and a good hug, too. He lets his voice go all melty and corny as he rubs his nose into her cheek, “Thanks, my little nugget. You give the best kiss in the world.” 

“I am not a nugget.” 

“Are you sure? How do we check?” 

You put the baby in her padded high chair, convince Dove and Beth that they’ll be happier sitting in their own chairs on their booster pillows, and then slide behind Steve and Avery to push at them. “Come on, I’m making breakfast.” 

“What are we having?” Steve asks, smiling over Avery’s shoulder as she nuzzles her face against his neck. She used to fit in one arm, but he doesn’t mind wrapping both of them around her as he sits down, his long girl tight to his chest. 

“Everything,” you promise. “The whole works for my guy.” 

“Whole works,” he says, kissing the top of Avery’s ear. “Can you believe that?” 

[hoodoo12]

Sweltering

First and foremost, fuck this heat. I've always preferred colder to warmer, and nowadays the summer is just a hellscape. Therefore, a story.

It's too hot outside, and The Ghost with the Most thinks he has a way to cool you down. NSFW.

It was stupid hot. Inside with no air conditioning was worse, so you were out on the patio in your backyard in nothing more than the thinnest tank top you owned and underwear. You’d brought a fan that was specifically labeled “for indoor use only!” out, plugged in by multiple extension cords that also said to only use them indoors, and had it going full blast right at your body.

You were sweating through what little clothing you had on. Your brain felt melted. The ice cream sandwich you thought would help cool you down did nothing.

Without warning or fanfare, Beetlejuice appeared at your side.

You hadn’t called him. You just never re-said his name after the last time you’d summoned him, and now this was the arrangement. He just came and went how he pleased, like a tom cat. You hoped he didn’t fuck around like an unneutered cat, but you were also realistic. There was never any label to the thing you had with him, although there was something to be said in that he kept returning.

“Jesus! You’re wearing that suit? It’s over 95 degrees out here!” you complained at him. Then you took a lick around the edge of the ice cream, because it was melting faster than your brain.

The ghost looked down over himself.

“Well fuckin' good day to you too,” he grumbled. “And what’s wrong with my suit?”

“I already said it was so damn hot! How can you wear that in this heat?!”

He rolled his eyes. “Because I’m a dead guy, sweetcheeks. I don’t feel the heat. I don’t feel the cold. It’s all the same to me.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, in both disbelief and a titch of jealousy. “Must be nice.”

He shrugged. “I suppose. If you mean not feeling much of anything.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. “You don’t feel much of anything? Then why’re you sporting a boner behind your fly?”

Instead of being embarrassed, a reaction that would have surprised you, he rubbed his palm over his crotch as he leered down at you. “My dick’s hard because you’re laying in front of me basically nude, baby, with sticky white stuff dripping all over your hand.”

Your ice cream! In the seconds you’d forgotten about it, it melted just as he said, leaving trails down your hand and wrist. With an inarticulate cry of surprised dismay, you immediately started to lick the mess off your hand, mostly managing to smear wet sugar over your skin instead of actually removing it.

“You know, I’ve got something just as chilly that’d fit in your mouth.”

Your tongue still in your palm, you flicked a glance at him. You’d expect nothing less from the ghost watching what you were doing with keen, hungry interest. Beetlejuice hadn’t stopped rubbing himself through his trousers and you saw him give himself a squeeze that was none to gentle.

“Oh?” you replied innocently. “You think something like that’d cool me down?”

“Fuckin’ heat you up, more like,” he growled. “I know how much you like suckin’ my cock.”

This hadn’t been on your agenda today, but his unexpected arrival did make you think dirty thoughts. Shoving the remaining bite of the ice cream sandwich into your mouth, you gave up trying to clean off your hand and spun in the lounge chair so he was between your legs. Looking up at him, you grinned even as you reached for the button and zipper on his trousers.

As your fingers undid the fastenings, you said, “This is all for me then, huh? Sucking you off is all for me, because you don’t feel much of anything?”

You dug into the front of his pants--he never wore underwear, so you didn’t have to contend with that barrier--and eased his cock out. Grub-pale and heavy in your hand, it did have a distinct chill that wasn’t unpleasant in this blasted heat.

Beetlejuice looked down at you with half-lidded eyes, drawing a thumb over his lower lip. “I think you know the answer to that, babydoll. Now you just gonna sit there? That sandworm isn’t gonna suck itself.”

Even as you rolled your eyes again that he called his dick a sandworm, you obediently opened your mouth and he rocked his hips. Because you were holding him by the base of his cock, it was the perfect position to slip between your lips and onto your tongue. You loosened your jaw; you knew he tended to pop himself forward once in your mouth and--

Beetlejuice thrust, his cock filling your mouth almost to your throat.

--yep, there it was.

The second he was encased in your mouth, you sucked him hard.

He groaned. A hand went to the back of your head and fingers entangled into your hair. You gave him a few sucking strokes, and on one of the outward pulls, he yanked back a little so your face tilted backward.

“Look up at me,” he ordered.

You barely contained another eye roll. Instead, you concentrated on doing as he asked, keeping your eyes trained upward as best you could bobbing on his cock. Along with the movement, you alternated swirling your tongue around him and applying heavy solid suction. He’d been correct; his cock was chilly in your mouth, although not quite as cold as the ice cream had been and nowhere near as tasty.

The ghost continued to groan and now gasp at each sensation you wrung from him. He tipped his head back, and you saw his throat work as he swallowed.

Without warning, you pulled off him. He gasped again, for a different reason, and dropped his gaze back to you. His mouth was open and he looked a little stuporous, as well as surprised.

“Look at me,” you ordered him.

He swallowed again and nodded quickly. You quirked an eyebrow at him as if to silently say he better not forget to keep his eyes trained downward. Then, keeping your eyes locked on his, you went back to work with even more vigor.

There was a little more intimacy, with direct eye contact. As much intimacy as sitting outside in basically nothing, sucking a basically fully clothed ghost’s cock could be. You laughed as best you could with that cock down your throat at what you must look like and what the neighbors would think if they happened to see you. Beetlejuice continued to moan and tightened his hand in your hair, as if he thought you were laughing at him. His hips rocked forward to shove himself in a little deeper.

The head of his cock choked off your air supply and cut your chuckle short. Now it was his turn to cock an eyebrow at you, daring you to say something or stop. Without taking your mouth off him you narrowed your eyes and worked him even harder.

You sucked, your swirled, you didn’t swallow any of the thick spit blowing him built up in your mouth. It ran out of your mouth and soaked your chin and neck; when you deep throated him it drenched his rat’s nest of pubic hair and trousers. Pulling back after keeping him fully inside you raised your eyes again. He locked eyes with yours even as drool beaded on his own lower lip. It became too heavy to remain there, and a thin droplet of it fell.

He licked his lip then. “Your fuckin’ mouth baby,” he muttered.

“Uh-huh,” you were able to reply, since that was easier than actual words. He seemed to want to choke out some words, however, so you slowed.

“Told you it was better, didn’t I?” he reminded you. “Nice isn’t it, something that’s cold in that hot mouth of yours that doesn’t melt right away? Fuck, baby, you gonna edge me so you can keep going? You gonna want to keep my cock in your mouth as long as possible--”

That was exactly what you didn’t want. Already his babbling grated on your nerves, like he was the one in charge here. You took him as deep as possible again, with your nose pressed into the wet hair over his pubic bone. Beetlejuice interrupted himself with an open-mouthed groan. You’d have smiled at the power you had over him, but that would break the suction.

Keeping his cock exactly where it was, you used your tongue to press it up against your hard palate for some variety in sensation and paused a second to breathe through your nose. You couldn’t tilt your head up enough to look him in the face again, but from the now involuntary jerks his body gave and the rhythmic tightening of his fingers in your hair, you didn’t need to see his expression to know that he was damn close to blowing his load down your throat.

As if on cue, he rasped, “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come--”

You left off the heavy suction for a second.

“Down your throat or on your skin, baby?”

His come would have a distinctly different taste in the back of your throat than the ice cream you’d eaten, so you answered him by releasing him and pulling back a bit. You caught his eyes again, dark even in the sunlight, and grinned up at him. His hand left your hair and went to his own cock.

Beetlejuice gave a slightly different groan at seeing you displayed in front of him. His hand stroked his length easily due to the amount of spit you’d laved him with. You gathered some of the spit that had dripped to your chest and smeared it, making yourself shiny. With the breeze from the fan, your nipples peaked. The grin didn’t leave your face.

The ghost jerked himself off, and broke the rule about keeping eye contact with you. His eyes were riveted to your chest. That was okay; you couldn’t help watching his cock disappear and reappear in his own hand, his pace increasing the closer he got to finishing. When he leaned over and used your shoulder for balance, you knew his end was inevitable.

He squeezed the head of his cock between his thumb and forefinger, then gave another frantic jerk and cried out as he came. Thick, off-white come spurted onto your upper chest, and it was just as chilly as his cock had been. You gasped as it painted you, and you couldn’t help taking one hand to smear it thinly over your skin. It was only slightly less tacky than the ice cream that had melted earlier. His nails dug into your shoulder, and you shrugged it to remind him that you were still a breather and didn’t really appreciate the pain.

Once his cock stopped pulsing and the last of his ejaculate dribbled out, he blew his breath out like he’d run a marathon.

The spunk you’d smeared was even cooler when the air from the fan hit it. You knew the sensation wouldn’t last long, but it was nice for the moment.

“You’re pretty hot, baby,” Beetlejuice complimented.

You gave him a look. “Yeah. I know. That’s the whole problem.”

He smirked and took your upper arm, hauling you to your feet.

“Why don’t I try to cool you down--now gimme a chance to explain, baby!” he said over your attempt to interrupt him. “My entire body is just as chilly as my dick, sweetheart, so me laying on top of you or you laying on top of me is gonna help. And when I say my entire body, I mean my tongue too, so just imagine what that’ll feel like tickling up between your legs. Cool you down from the inside out.”

When he put it that way . . .

Beetlejuice grinned as your expression softened into compliance.

“Come on baby,” he continued. “Let’s get inside where I can really concentrate. Unless you wanna continue to give the neighbors a free show?”

“What?!” you squawked, scrambling for your bra to cover yourself.

He laughed and didn’t let you grab it, pulling you along with him into the house and up to your bedroom. As far as a sweltering day went, at least a corpse-cold lover helped make it better.

fin!

[misslovasstuff]

Op!men seeing you hurt

sanji x reader, zoro x reader

Sanji

The only occasion when he calls you by your name and not one of his words of endearment

With the speed of light, he rushes when he hears you’ve been shot in your leg.

He’s panicked but tries to keep his cool

“Show me please, - Sanji touches your thigh gently, touching the end of your dress to pull it up but you stop his hand. - Y/n?”

“I’m fine… it’s nothing.” - you claim, trying not to let your expression give away your pain.

Sanji stared at you, clenching his jaw as he shakes his head, anger building up. Who even dares to hurt you this way?

“Please, let me see. - he notices the worry on your face and tries to lighten up the situation. - What, are you shy? Love, it was only yesterday when you had my head pressed in between. Now…”

Your cheeks blush, looking away and getting somewhat a sense of relief seeing him smile, although you know deep down it was forced to reassure you.

Sanji raises your dress up, noticing your wound on your thigh. His eyes widen and he curses.

“Damnit!… - he caresses the unwounded area of your thigh as he looks at your eyes. - It must hurt a lot, right? Let’s take you to Chopper!”

Sanji picks you up and you put your hands around him, head resting on his chest.

“I’m really sorry, Sanji. I didn’t mean to be a bother for you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. - he says sharply. - If you wanna feel sorry about something, feel sorry for the bastards that did this to you and that have to deal with me. I’m gonna give them ten times more of the pain you’re feeling now, love.”

“I am in no pain when I’m with you.” - your voice gentle and soft and words so genuine and selfless make Sanji feel even more at fault for letting you get hurt. But his heart starts beating faster and he can’t deny it as your hand rests on his chest.

“I won’t let you get hurt ever again. I promise.” - Sanji kisses your forehead, flames of anger extinguished by your gentle love only to burn brighter than ever after he leaves you at Chopper’s care, kissing the palm of your hand and finishing the business he has with the ignorants who dared to touch his woman.

Zoro

“Are you ok?! Oi, answer me!” - Zoro shakes your body, noticing a lack of reaction.

“…who did this… - he whispers, putting strands of hair behind your ear. - Please answer me, baby. Open your eyes… please…”

He’d never beg for anything, but now more than ever, Zoro felt most helpless. Hi strength could not help, nor his swordsmanship or any other asset he deemed as important.

He had his lover layed on the ground and hurt, and he wasn’t there to protect, to defend, to lay down his life for you.

“fucking hell… - he cusses, grip on his sword tightening. - … why didn’t you call for me?!”

Zoro takes your body, pulling you close to his embrace as his forehead meets yours.

“How can the world hurt such a soul like yours… tell me… open your eyes and scold me as always… please, love…” - his voice has a distinctive desperate tone, jaw clenched that relaxes when he feels his clothes pulled.

You reach your hand to the nape of his shirt, opening your eyes and giggling slightly at his widen gaze.

“You’re so silly, you know?” - and there, you scold him. But instead of having a counter argument, Zoro hugs you tightly, pecking your lips before asking many questions.

“Are you in much pain? Are you feeling fine? Which bastard did this to you, give me his name cause I swear to-

“Relax, - you breathe heavily but still manage to relax your fuming boyfriend. - the fight is over isn’t it? Let’s just go back to the sunny.”

Zoro sighs, scanning your face before saying:

“I could have not handled a second more in this world without you. I’m so glad you’re okay.”

It’s true, although your vision a bit blurry, you can feel his voice shaking and his tight grip on your arms as he holds you, perhaps to convince himself that you’re here with him, and you’re alive.

“Then I’ll make sure to love you for a lifetime, Zoro.”

This man doesn’t usually shed tears but, his eyes get a bit watery as he presses his lips against yours, then shaking his head and sighing in relief.

“Ok enough kissing now, let’s get you treated.”

“You’re the one kissing me, idiot!”

[freakyformula]

Lando Norris wedding night headcanon

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, breeding, praise and innocence kink, creampie, some fluff

It was your and Landos' first night together as newlyweds. The wedding night.

You'd spend your night at a luxurious hotel with a view of the Mediterranean Sea.

Early into your relationship you had let Lando know that you wanted to wait to be intimate, which he was okay with.

When you checked into the grand suite, you could see he was nervous, but certainly not as nervous as you were.

He had experience from before he met you, which you didn't; he was your first.

He walks up to you and takes hold of your shaking hand. You're out of breath, and he hasn't even touched you yet.

"Shhhh... It's okay, sweetheart, we don't need to do anything you're not ready for." He coos as he brushes his thumb against your cheek.

You shake your head, "No, I want to. Just nervous." You blurt out, the nervousness making it hard to talk.

Lando takes your words as a sign, and picks you up in his arms. He throws you onto the bed with him not far behind, making you giggle nervously.

He hovers over you and leans in, and you instinctively part your legs and lift them up for him.

Lando makes quick work of his clothes, but he takes his time with you, pulling off your sundress agonizingly slowly.

He places carefully considered kisses wherever your glowing skin is laid bare and the feeling of his tongue on you makes you hyper-aware of where he is and the warmness of his body against you.

He comes to a stop at your panties, looking up at you for approval, and you nod as an answer. When he gets a whiff of your distinctive smell, he moans out in pure delight.

His touch over your mound and down to your clit is soft and slow, and with your permission, he starts circling around your clit and down to your already dripping hole.

You're bucking your hips and pulling on his hair to get some sort of relief and Lando moves down, and gives your slit a surprising yet welcomed lick. He hums contently at the taste of you, and dives in.

He teases your hole with his tongue and manages to intrude into you. You moan out when you feel where he is, and he looks up at you, giving you a questioning look.

"Feels so good, Lando, don't stop."

When you feel a finger teasing your hole, you tense up. "Don't be scared, baby. Gotta stretch you out for me." Lando whispers, and you do your best to relax under his soft touch.

The stretch is uncomfortable at first, and you groan out in pain, until Lando curls his finger up into your G-spot, turning your deep groan into a high-pitched shriek.

Then he adds another finger, and you start to enjoy the feeling of him in you.

You can't help letting out small moans whenever Lando curls his fingers up into you. Quickly, you're moaning loudly and bucking your hips against his fingers, pushing yourself closer to that sweet release with the help of his fingers.

"Cum for me, sweetheart..." Lando comments. And within seconds you do, the first orgasm of your life crashes upon you.

You're a groaning mess and Lando pulls his fingers out of you, licking them clean, clearly satisfied with his work.

When you've come down, Lando leans down to you, giving you light and sweet kisses. The taste of yourself on his lips drives you crazy and in a desperate attempt to get more you lick his lips and mouth, with him giving you full access.

You feel his member twitching between your legs, and you decide to feel him for the first time, unsure of what to do.

He was rock hard. You wrap your small hand around him and move up and down a few times, earning a moan from him.

"If you continue doing that, you're gonna make me cum already. I need you so bad." Lando admits and grabs your hand, placing kisses along your arm down to your fingertips.

"Do you want to do this?" Lando asks, teasing your cunt with the tip of him, mixing your juices into a concoction, and moving up to tease your clit every few seconds.

"Please, Lando..." You beg, pulling him closer.

"I know, darling, I know." Lando comforts as he presses the tip against your hole. "Relax, baby..." He whispers, trying his best to take it slow.

His fingers were one thing, but the stretch of his member made you lose your breath. You yelp in pain whenever he moves further, making Lando stop and give you time to get used to his size.

A sound of appreciation left your lips as he pulled out and slid in again, just a little further.

You could already feel his cock hitting your sweet spot and you felt that familiar pressure in your stomach starting to build up.

"Feel so fucking good, baby, fuck." Lando rambles, whispering profanities and praise in your ear.

He was losing it at this point, being so close to cumming after pumping into you a few times. He felt like a horny teenager, having to hold back to avoid shooting his load too soon.

"Can't wait to fill you up... Make you round with my baby."

"Baby..." You whisper with a smile.

You and Lando had agreed in advance that you'd start trying for a baby on your wedding night, and now that it was finally happening, it couldn't feel more right.

As he continued his journey further into you, he peppered you with kisses and praise, letting you know how good you were for him.

When he bottoms out, he lets out a whine, "look so pretty with you filled to the brim..."

You can't hold back anymore and you wrap your legs around his back and lock them, coaxing him closer to you.

You are unable to form sentences, but you squeeze out a "Coming!" to let him know not to stop.

And he doesn't, on the contrary he keeps going, his hips pistoning into yours until the knot in your stomach snaps and you yell out your second orgasm.

Your contorted face must have told him everything he needed to know because he pulls off a proud, cocky smirk.

When you've come down, and let him know that you're ready to go again, he pulls out almost completely and sinks in again, making both of you moan out together in a mutual melody.

"Are you sure you want me to cum inside?" He asks again, out of breath, supporting himself on his elbows.

"Please, please, Lando, give it to me." You whine, holding his face and admiring his jade-green eyes that are looking down at you with so much tenderness.

Your words push him over the edge and you feel his cock twitching, painting your insides with white streaks of his seed.

Lando is totally spent after your activities and collapses on top of you, both of you catching your breath.

You spend the rest of the night soaking in the bath with him holding you in the bath.

When you get out and dry yourself off, Lando walks up behind you and presses his hardening cock against your back.

"Lando..." You start, but he cuts you off with a kiss.

The day after, Lando carries you to breakfast, with you being unable to walk.

[cupidlovesastro]

asteroid groom(5129) through the signs and houses

ˏˋ♡̩͙♡̩̩̥͙♡̩̥̩♡̩͙ˊˎ ع˖⁺ ☁⋆ ୭ 🕊.⋆｡⋆༶⋆˙⊹ ˏˋ♡̩͙♡̩̩̥͙♡̩̥̩♡̩͙ˊˎ. .

groom represents the male/ masculine counterpart of a marriage, aka the husband. if you are a man or present masculine, this could be about what you’re like in a marriage or as a husband

[very long post ahead]

paid readings 🩵

aries- he could be a gym rat and very masculine, either in nature or physically. they could also be very action oriented, which could also mean they might be quite impulsive. they may also be competitive or be in a line of work that deals with competition. speaking of work, they could be a fitness trainer/ coach, in sports, or sales(because of competition). they could also be outspoken, outgoing, or just bold in some nature. he may also be aggressive, which that doesn’t mean it’s towards you. he could be the “mean to everyone else, but you” type lol. others may be intimidated by him due to his very masculine and possibly aggressive nature. he could also have a short temper

taurus- your future husband could be a chef, fashion designer, or just a job that’s makes a lotttt of money, since taurus can represent materialism. he may be quite lazy at home, or when he’s relaxing he’s RELAXING, like he just wants to chill out. he could also like spoiling you, buying you expensive gifts, or even spontaneous gifts. he may also care about his looks, and he could wear flashy things, designer clothing, or just things that look nice. they could also be very dependable, reliable, and loyal. he may also like helping you with cooking when he can, or even cook for you. if not that, then he really appreciates when you do that for him. he could have a more traditional way of living, or a traditional perspective on marriage

‧₊˚🩵✩ ₊˚🌐⊹♡𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧🫧‧˚꒰🐾꒱༘⋆⋆.˚🦋༘⋆ 🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

gemini- your husband could be in a job where the speak a lot or think a lot. he could be a linguist, a teacher, comedian, spokesman, or commentator. geminis are also know to be outgoing and jokesters, so they could be a youtuber, streamer, or comedian. he will show you his love with words of affirmations, or physical touch, since gemini rules the arms and hands. he could have a baby face, or look younger than his actual age. he may be talkative, or even a rambler lol. he could like kissing your arms or hand area as well. he may enjoy doing things that keep his brain active or they could have many hobbies that they rotate through. he could like going out a lot as well. he could seem or be superficial at times , and may also seem flakey as well. he could also have a hard time talking about his emotions

cancer- he may be in a line of work that deals with families, empathy, and/ or children. so his line of work could be family therapy, child therapy, school counseling, school teacher, and maybe even a pediatrician. he could be very caring, loving, and understanding. he may also be intuitive of your needs, and possibly even heal your inner child. he could be emotional though, which can be good and bad. he could dress like a dad even if he isn’t one, and may even have father like qualities. speaking of parents, he could have traits similar to your mother or he could look a lot like his mother or be a mamas boy. he can have moments where he’s quite snappy and he could show his love through physical touch

leo- your husband could be in a job where he has a lot of attention, so jobs in the entertainment industry may be in his line of work. he could also have a job where he makes others feel confident so like a barber, interior designer, etc. he may have a very confident exterior, and great hair lol. he shows us love through physical touch, and maybe even words of affirmations. he could dress quite boldly or have a distinct style. he’s very expressive, wether that be emotionally or physically. he may also be dramatic lol. he could be the life of the party and very outgoing. he may also be veryyy masculine. like he works out, he’s very handy, logical, etc. he may also be very positive, and optimistic

virgo- he could be in a line of work that deals with a lot of analyzing and logic. so jobs like finance, statistics, or even engineering, could all be a possibility. i could also see he may be a veterinarian, or in social work of some kind. he could also be a very hygienic person, like you can smell detergent on his clothes, and his teeth are white, things like that. he could seem shy/ innocent, when you first meet him , or just in general. he also may have a baby face or he just looks younger than his actual age. he could be into working out as well, and may own a pet or two. he will show his love by doing things for you, like the dishes, helping you cook, etc. he’s could be reserved as well. he may be into skincare, and could even give his advice on your skincare lol

˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚₊˚ʚ 💙 ₊˚✧ﾟ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪₊ ⊹🪻 ✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ 🫐જ⁀➴

libra- your husband could be a lawyer, judge, or just something apart of the justice department. they could even be an activist, fashion designer, or relationship counselor. i could see him being very friendly and flirtatious. he may also be quite shallow at first, like he doesn’t go too deep into anything, unless you ask, or he’s ready to. he like having fun, and cares more about the pleasures of life than other things. he could be pretty balance in some way like, emotionally balance, or a balanced personality. he could have a symmetrical face, and he could also participate in skin care. since libra ruled the skin and aesthetics. which speaking of aesthetics, his may change , or he could have 1 aesthetic, but pulls it off really well

scorpio- he could be quite mysterious, or even in a line of work that’s mysterious. for example, he could be an investigator, in the cia, or even the navy seals. scorpio can also represent rebirth and de*th, so he could be into forensics or the hospital. he might be quite good at flirting, and somewhat of the serious type. he could wear dark clothes, have dark hair, or a dark eye color. he shows his love through physical touch. once you get to know him he could be quite touchy, like touching your hand, arms, or face a lot. he also could have a high sex drive so be ware of that lol. he could have intense eyes, presence, or voice as well.(not in a bad way) you could become obsessed with him, and/ or he could become obsessed with you(doesn’t have to be in a toxic way). he values loyalty a lot, and he’s also intuitive, so don’t lie to him because he could be able to catch onto easily

sagittarius- he could be the adventurous, funny, and open minded type of guy. he might be in a line of work such as a philosopher, a college professor, travel agent, or other jobs that involve traveling. he could also have prominent or very muscular thighs, and he may also be quite brutally honest at times. he may also have a lot of opinions and could be reckless at times. he could also wear cultural items, or things that he got from different places in the world. he may show his love through quality time and words of affirmations. he might also come off noncommittal or you guys could’ve started off as making it clear that your not going to date and then ended up dating lol. he doesn’t like feeling tied down or like he has no freedom, and he may also feel this way towards you. he could want you to feel free as well, and he also wants to feel like your best friends with you!

capricorn- your husband could be in a career that’s makes a lot of money and is also ambitious. so sports, marketing, or even ceo/ boss of a company. he could also be an entrepreneur. he could have great bone structure, strong jawline, prominent collar bones, etc. he may also dress with flashy clothes like designer, or things that have diamonds in it. he could show his love through gift giving, and he could love spoiling you. he may also just give you money, like not even a gift, just money.💀he can be quite cold at times, or just distant. he may also get caught up in work very often, or just doesn’t know when to take a break. he could hate being unproductive because it makes him feel lazy. with that being said, having lazy days with him could be hard because he might do acts of service for you just to be productive lol.

༘⋆🌊🫧 ⋆˙ִֶָ𓂃𝑚𝑖 𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑟 ༉‧🦋₊˚. 𝜗𝜚⊹˚. ♡₊ ⊹ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 🪼✦

aquarius- he could be into technology, inventing, and could be apart of some kind of community. he may be an activist, since aquarius can also represent rebellion. they could care deeply about the world or a specific group of people. when you meet him he could be very social and friendly, but emotionally distant. he may be unpredictable with his aesthetic, words, or even behaviors (not in a bad way, it could be in a silly way). he’s also a logical thinker, but he may be an over thinker as well, since aquarius’s can represent the future. he could have many friends, or if he doesn’t, he makes acquaintances easily. he also likes standing on his own, he doesn’t want to seem dependent at all. he’s an observer, so he can pick up on social cues of a room easily, or the energy of it. he could show his love through quality time as well!

pisces- he’s giving me puppy vibes. he’s emotional, caring, compassionate, and loving. he could be into jobs like therapy, nurse, even a veterinarian. he’s also very intuitive, so he could pick up on your social cues or energies quite easily. he might be secretive as well, like you find out so much stuff about him over time because he didn’t tell you in the beginning. he may also be dreamy to you, like he’s literally your dream husband. he’s idealistic, and can be delusional at times. he may also have dreams often, and he could be interested in spirituality. he will show his love by physical affection. he could also be into feet, or specifically your feet😭. he could have dreamy eyes, and soft features. he may also dress in darker colors, or have an aesthetic that makes him come off mysteriously. he may also be a little ditsy, or just naive about certain topics

the houses

‎ ‧₊˚ 𓂃౨ৎ ⋆.˚⟡🌧️⊹₊⋆ ⁀✮₊ ⋆.˚⟡⊹₊⋆*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 🌪️.ᐟ‎ ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

1st house- your husband could care a lot about his appearance’s or looks. so he may have a distinct aesthetic to him, or you could catch him checking himself out at times lol. he may also have a genuinely good sense for fashion, vibes and aesthetics. he may be one of those people who are sensitive to first impressions and energies. like he might be able to learn and understand a lot about a person, just from first impressions. he could also have a big personality or just one that’s unique/ different from others. he might be very good at making good first impressions as well, and knows how to conduct himself in front of others depending on the environment, situation, people, etc. you could meet him in the beginning of the year, or beginning of the month, new moons, capricorn season, aries season, or even new era of your life.

2nd house- your husband might be money oriented or just make a lot of money. he may also prioritize his work as well. he also has some high standards, when it comes to relationships, or who he decides to marry. he could own things that he find special to him or he could be the possessive type over you. he could also spoil you and you are definitely one of his priorities. also, there could be something that you guys make apart of your daily routine. it could be having dinner together, or just taking time out of your day to spend time with each other. you guys could meet at a work place, or while looking for a job. you could also meet when you are doing one of your routines like going to the gym, getting groceries etc. i could also see that you could meet them on the 2nd or 22nd, february, taurus season or aquarius season.

✧˖°.₊ ⊹⋆.˚🧊₊˚⊹♡࿐ ࿔*･ﾟ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ જ⁀➴₊⊹ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

3rd house- he could be very logical or just someone who’s an overthinker. he also might be quite talkative, or you feel like it’s easy to talk to him than other people in your life. you guys could be neighbors or neighbors at one point. you may also have met this person in early childhood, and you could also know them through a sibling. he could have a lot of siblings himself, or be close to his neighbors. he’s definitely a communicator, and the times where he doesn’t communicate, could be an indicator that something is wrong. you guys could also engage in social activities, like going to bars, clubs, parties, etc. you could meet him on the 3rd, the 30th’s, march, pisces season or gemini season

4th house- your husband could may have motherly energy, or be close with his mother. he could have a lot of respect for feminine figures in his life as well. he could really want children for his future, or may already have one/ some. he could be a good dad as well. he could also really want a family of his own, or is close to his family. he is like a traditional thinking man when it comes to marriage, like he wants to marry, have a family, and just be a good father. he might also like the idea of you being pregnant, or getting you pregnant, so be careful 😭. he could have a womanly side as well, like a feminine side. you could meet him through a family member, or your mother. you might also meet him while picking up your kid if you have one, or a place where there’s a lot of children. he also might prioritize self care days a lot, he could also want to spend his self care days with you as well

5th house- he could be a huge romance and also a child at heart. he could also be quite creative and a joyful person or more optimistic, or upbeat. you guys could meet through drama club, or when something dramatic was going on. you guys could’ve even met at a museum that has art, a art class, or other forms of creativity. he may also have a child, or really want children. you may also meet him when your in a happier time in your life, or maybe a time where you discover inner child. he could get along with children as well, and may enjoy things such as plays, or even have a form of art as a hobby of his. he may also express his love through art, like poetry, drawings, paintings, etc.

6th house- your future husband could be a gym rat, or just care a lot about health and fitness. he may be a teacher for health and fitness, or a fitness trainer. you could’ve met him at the gym , on a walk/ run, or in some other form of physical health class. he could be analytical, or even work a job where he deals with numbers and statistics. i can also see he may be in a line of work like nursing, therapist, etc. i could also see he may be he may also be a people pleaser. he finds validation through helping others. you may also meet while volunteering for something. he could have a lot of pets, or really wants one. he might just be an animal lover as well lol. you could meet at a pet store, or while volunteering for animals

₊✮⸜ ༘⋆ 𐚁⊹₊ 🧿⋆ ☾⊹₊ ⋆ ˖ ݁𖥔 𐙚⋆｡°🪩✩ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆🎐｡˚ ⋆˚✿

7th house- your partner could really value a relationship, or partnership with you. he also may embody husband energy. he could talk about marriage a lot , or seem like he might be ready to settle down with someone when you meet him. he could also be in a job where he works with married couples or something with justice. he could be a marriage counselor, a lawyer, a debater, etc. you could also meet him at work during a group meeting/ activity or when finding a business partner. he may also love your skin, or touching your skin. he might even have unique/ beautiful skin himself

8th house- you could meet him while hooking up, or on a sneaky link. you could also meet him while moving houses, or he could even work as a realtor. he may also be a sex therapist or have a job that surrounds sexual things. he could come off shallow at first, or like he doesn’t have much depth and this could make him come off as a mystery. he could also value sexual intimacy a lot , and it may be something that is a theme in your relationship. he could also like giving you money, or buying you things, vice versa. moving in together could also be something he really wants. there could be a lot of similarities between you two, almost like your the same person in a different body.

9th house- this person could travel a lot and/ or know a lot about other cultures. they may also connect a lot to their own culture. you may meet them on a trip somewhere, or while participating in some kind of cultural event. he may also be very smart, like he’s beyond his years. he could have a lot of different philosophies or study that subject. he may also have many degrees, or when you meet him he will be working to get a degree. you could also meet him during a religious ceremony, doesn’t have to be church tho. he may also like touching your thighs or he could have big/ unique thighs himself

10th house- he could be very hard working, or just a very goal oriented person. he may also care a lot about his reputation/ status or he could have a high status. he may be known somehow. he may also be very masculine, and give off dad energy lol. he may be a father in fact, or really wants to be a dad one day. there may also be a certain relationship he has with his dad, like maybe he loves him or hates him. there may also be something that he is very educated on, like an expert at. he could keep you in line , or values structure, routine, and plans, rather than spontaneous things. you could meet him in the career you have , or you could meet him through your dad/ dad figure. if your high status, then maybe even that.

౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆ 💠ೀ⋆｡˚ °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*🌧️:･.𖥔 ݁˖ 🌀✦ ‧₊˚⋅⋆⭒˚｡⋆🪩

11th house- your husband might work somewhere that deals with technology, or he could even have a degree that relates to technology. you could meet him online, like through a social media platform. you guys could be friends at first and then it leads to more, or you may have met through friends. there could’ve also been a group gathering you met at. like a party, concert, etc. you could’ve manifested him as well, or he could’ve manifested you. he could also be somewhat intuitive since 11th house can represent the future, and you could be exactly what he wished for or hoped for. when you guys go on dates , or your first date, you could often bring along friends, coworkers, etc. his love language could be words of affirmation.

12th house- your husband could work at a funeral, a recovery of some kind, a nursing home, a median, and other spiritual things. you may meet him when something is ending in your life, like a relationship, quitting a job, end of the year, end of school or a semester, etc. he may be very intuitive so don’t lie to him lol, and he could also be quite connected to the after life. he may also be connected to his dreams. you guys could get married in a secluded area, like a forest or even eloping. they may have limiting beliefs that you two could need to work through as well. if your really into astrology, tarot, crystals, etc, he may be interested in learning about it too and listening to things you say like that. he could make you feel. he may also be intuitive with/ to your needs

paid readings 🩵

[leejenowrld]

‘love me back?’ — part 2

pairing - mark lee x reader

word count - 19.4k words

genre - angst, smut, fluff, strangers to lovers, forbidden love

synopsis — during an away game weekend at a motel, tensions rise sharply between mark and jeno, exacerbated by the close quarters and competitive atmosphere. meanwhile, your connection with mark deepens significantly. amidst the growing rivalry, you and mark find solace in each other’s company, leading to a night spent alone together in the motel, further complicating the dynamics of the trip.

chapter contents/warnings — college au, small town vibes, 2000s teen show vibes, this fic is heavily based on one tree hill, explicit sexual content, explicit dirty talk, spanking, biting, breath play, consensual choking and slapping, praise kink, oral sex received. fingering, a dominant mark and submissive reader dynamic, use of endearments such as ‘baby’ and ‘good girl’, grinding!!!! they’re obsessed with it, dry grinding and dry humping, mark orders reader to strip down, but mark will only let reader remove his clothing in exchange for personal facts about the you, he wants to know about you!! big cock mark agenda, reader gets so overwhelmed and turned on by the size, yet struggling to accommodate him, it takes a few repeated attempts to get his cock fully inside of you, a display of mark’s patience and softness, he goes a lot soft dom here when he’s really a hard dom but he goes softer for you!!! explicit language, slow burn, emotional (and sexual) tension between reader and mark, basketball is a heavy theme, mark being a key player, reader struggles with communication and vulnerability, toxic sibling rivalry between jeno and mark, soft mark, emo boy mark, confident mark, understated and hot mark, competitive sports tension. mark and jeno fighting again, they kinda bond (?) but it’s slow burn and they’re gonna be very off and on, jeno is very off and on with how he acts and how genuine he is, hints of jealous karina, creepy motel vibes, oh and guess who you meet… jeno and mark’s dad!! hehe

[fic ml]

ONE — TWO — THREE — FOUR — FIVE

───────────────────────────────

The morning sun was still hanging low in the sky, casting a pale, golden glow across the university campus. The air was cool and crisp, the kind that hinted at the early stages of fall, where the chill settled into your skin but wasn’t enough to make you uncomfortable. The campus was buzzing with a chaotic energy—players from the basketball team hauling their bags, some slung over their shoulders, others dragging them across the pavement as they exchanged jokes and playful shoves. Cheerleaders were gathered in small groups, some adjusting their ponytails while others scrolled absentmindedly through their phones, their bags packed with uniforms and pom-poms, ready for the weekend away.

Parked in the lot were two large coaches, engines humming softly, filling the air with that distinct scent of diesel and excitement. Coach Suh was already barking orders, his usual gruff tone laced with impatience as he directed the team and checked his clipboard. His assistant coaches stood nearby, chatting with some of the teachers who would be chaperoning the trip, their voices blending with the surrounding noise. The whole scene was one of anticipation—the players buzzing about the away game, the cheerleaders giggling as they gossiped, the distant sound of music filtering from someone’s speaker in the crowd.

You and Karina walked arm in arm through the bustling crowd, her voice slicing through the noise as she vented about something trivial—the usual drama, this time involving Winter. You weren’t paying much attention, your mind somewhere else. It had been a week since you and Jeno broke up, and while you told yourself you were getting over it, a tight knot of anxiety still sat heavy in your chest. A week since everything changed. A week since that kiss with Mark, a moment you couldn’t stop replaying in your head. Now, you were about to spend a whole weekend with both of them, and the thought made your nerves fray at the edges. You weren’t sure if you were ready for this.

“Rina, stop being rude,” you mumbled, barely paying attention as she continued her rant, huffing dramatically when you two bumped into Winter. Karina immediately switched gears, blowing her a playful kiss before wrapping her in a tight hug. But you were already distracted, your focus shifting as your eyes caught sight of Mark in the distance.

He was standing alone, leaning against his bag, earbuds in, completely lost in his own world. His hair was slightly tousled, messy in that careless way that always suited him, and he was wearing black glasses—ones you hadn’t seen him in before, which made something flutter faintly in your chest. The soft sunlight caught on his frame, making the whole scene look like something out of a movie.

“Hold on a sec,” you murmured, cutting Karina off mid-sentence. She looked at you, raising an eyebrow as she watched you slip away from her side, curiosity evident on her face.

You made your way over to where Mark was standing, weaving through the scattered clusters of students, your heart thudding slightly harder in your chest. He hadn’t noticed you yet, his music too loud, and his eyes half-closed, like he was lost in thought.

“Mark,” you said, raising your voice slightly as you gave him a gentle tap on the shoulder.

He blinked, startled out of his reverie, and when he turned around, a small, soft smile immediately graced his lips. He pulled one earbud out, his eyes brightening at the sight of you. “Hey,” he greeted casually, as though it hadn’t been a week since you last spoke. As if that kiss had never happened.

“Hey,” you echoed, feeling suddenly awkward. Your fingers fidgeted with the strap of your bag as you searched for the right words. “Um, I just wanted to thank you, you know… for that night. It—it really meant a lot.”

His smile widened a fraction, but he didn’t say anything, waiting for you to continue. With slightly trembling fingers, you reached into your bag and pulled out a small, carefully wrapped package—a record you had made just for him. The case was simple, but you had taken the time to customize it—his name written in a looping script across the front, surrounded by small doodles of guitars and basketballs. You had put more effort into it than you’d ever admit, each stroke of ink a small way of thanking him without having to say the words.

Mark’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, his lips parting slightly as he took the package from you, his fingers brushing yours for the briefest moment. “Does this mean we’re dating now?” he teased, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he examined the record.

Your cheeks flushed immediately. “No,” you mumbled, trying to keep your cool. “I just had a lot of free time, and you have a long journey ahead, so… don’t read too much into it.”

But Mark wasn’t buying it, his smirk only deepening as he glanced back up at you. “Sure. Free time.”

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Jeno standing near one of the other coaches, deep in conversation with one of his and Mark’s mutual friends. They were laughing about something, completely oblivious to you and Mark’s interaction, and yet, the sight of him still made your stomach flip in that uncomfortable way it had been doing for the past week.

Mark noticed your distraction but didn’t say anything. He just tucked the record into his bag with a quiet, “Thanks, Y/N,” before offering you a soft, genuine smile.

You gave him a small nod, a sense of relief washing over you, but before you could say anything else, Karina’s voice rang out from across the lot, calling your name.

“I should go,” you said quickly, backing away a few steps. “See you on the bus.”

Mark waved, popping his earbud back in as he leaned against his bag again, slipping back into his own world as if nothing had happened. But you couldn’t help but feel like something had shifted, something small and unspoken, lingering in the space between you.

When you returned to Karina’s side, she was giving you a look that was half suspicion, half curiosity. “What was that?” she asked, her voice dripping with intrigue.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, though the heat rising to your cheeks probably gave you away. “Just thanked him for something.”

Karina’s eyes narrowed, a knowing smirk tugging at the edges of her lips. “You don’t like him, do you?”

“Karina, stop overreacting,” you muttered, trying to brush her off, but you could feel her gaze piercing into you.

“Good,” she said, with a casual shrug. “Because I still wanna have sex with him.”

Your heart lurched, and you tried to keep your expression neutral. “Okay,” you said, voice steady, though your mind was spinning. You couldn’t judge her—not when you felt the same. But there was no way you were going to tell her about the kiss. That would only lead to more problems.

The two of you finally boarded the bus, finding your seats among the other cheerleaders and players. As you settled in, you let out a small sigh, the weight of the day’s tension settling on your shoulders. It was going to be a long weekend. You could feel it in the air. But as the bus started moving, the sound of the engine humming beneath you, you couldn’t help but wonder—what was going to happen between you, Mark, and Jeno? The tension between all three of you was still there, unresolved, waiting to bubble over.

───────────────────────────────

The gym buzzed with life, the clamor of shoes squeaking against the polished wooden floor, the rhythmic bounce of basketballs, and the murmur of the audience creating a palpable energy. It felt like the air was thick with anticipation, the overhead fluorescent lights harsh and bright, casting long shadows on the floor as the two teams warmed up. The scent of sweat and rubber mingled with the faint aroma of cheap popcorn from the concession stands. On the far side, the home bleachers were packed with students, most clad in blue jerseys, their school colors proudly worn across their bodies like armor. The cheerleaders were stationed by the sidelines, their outfits hugging their curves, shimmering pom-poms ready in hand.

You were in the thick of it, standing with Karina at the edge of the court, arms raised with your pom-poms, shaking them rhythmically as you moved through the choreographed routines. Your cheerleading uniform was snug, the blue pleats of your skirt fluttering as you danced, and your crop top clung to your skin, showing just enough midriff to catch the eyes of anyone paying attention. The crowd was electric, and the boys were on fire tonight, especially Mark and Jeno—though they were in their own worlds, not even acknowledging each other.

Karina’s voice, hushed yet teasing, pulled you from the daze of the game. “Oh my God, Mark looks so hot in blue. We should both fuck him.”

You choked on a laugh, whipping your head toward her. “We?”

“Yeah, at the same time. Threesome.” She shrugged like it was the most natural suggestion in the world.

“Please, shut up,” you hissed through a grin, unable to suppress the giggle bubbling at your throat. You shook your pom-poms in sync with the rest of the girls, trying to keep your focus on the game, but Karina’s persistent teasing kept your mind elsewhere.

“What? You need a little rebound action unless—” Her voice dropped, her gaze flicking toward the court where Jeno sprinted past. “Unless you’re still into Jeno.”

“I’m not,” you answered quickly, too quickly, as your eyes slid to where Jeno was dominating the court. His jersey, drenched with sweat, clung to his body, showcasing every muscle, every ripple of his toned arms and chest. His biceps flexed as he dribbled, every move calculated and strong, and there was no denying he looked good tonight. But that’s all it was—an attraction. Purely physical. The sexual chemistry between you two had been undeniable, but it was never enough to keep you together. The connection was shallow. You both knew it, and yet, the ache of desire was still there.

“Good,” Karina smirked, satisfied with your response. “Because you’re my best friend, and I love you. You get a courtesy hold on Mark for the weekend, but after that, he’s fair game.”

You laughed again, shaking your head. Karina had been there for you through everything, especially after the breakup. She knew how to make light of everything, how to push you to move on even when you didn’t want to.

As the game unfolded, you spotted Jeno and Mark’s best friend sitting in the bleachers, her posture shy and reserved. She had that doe-eyed, innocent look about her, with her small frame tucked into an oversized hoodie, eyes wide as she watched the boys play. She seemed out of place here, her innocence a stark contrast to the intensity of the game.

“What’s the story with that one anyway?” Karina asked, her eyes zeroed in on the girl.

You shrugged, not looking away from the court. “Jeno said she’s tutoring him.”

“And hanging out with Mark?” Karina’s eyebrow raised in suspicion.

“They’ve been best friends since they were kids, right?” you replied, though the bitterness in your voice was hard to miss. You had asked Mark once, point-blank, if there was anything more than friendship between them. He had laughed, like the idea was so ridiculous it didn’t even deserve a serious response. She’s like a sister, he’d said.

Karina leaned in, whispering like she was sharing the juiciest gossip. “Right. And we’re supposed to believe she’s just friends with both of them?”

“She doesn’t seem like a troublemaker,” you murmured, though even you weren’t convinced by your own words.

Karina’s gasp made your head snap toward her. “Did you just see that? Jeno gave her the nod.”

You frowned, feeling your stomach twist. “What nod?”

“The ‘let’s hook up after the game’ nod,” Karina explained, her eyes wide in disbelief.

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “Karina, you’re reading too much into things.”

Karina crossed her arms, smirking knowingly. “You wanna know what I think? I think Jeno likes tutor girl. I think tutor girl likes Mark. And I know I like Mark. And I don’t even know who the hell you like anymore.”

“Shut up,” you muttered, though the whole thing was spiraling into a mess you didn’t even know how to untangle.

Back on the court, Donghyuck’s voice crackled through the speaker system, narrating the game with his usual laid-back flair. “Ravens have a big lead early in the second quarter,” he announced, his eyes tracking every movement with a casual ease.

Jeno charged down the court, eyes locked on the basket, but his speed got the better of him. As he tried to weave past an opponent, he slammed into him with his shoulder, sending the opposing player sprawling onto the floor. The referee’s whistle pierced through the noise.

“That’s a foul on Jeno Lee,” Donghyuck’s voice rang through the speakers, cutting through the tension in the gym.

Mark, nearby, groaned in exasperation, shaking his head. “Seriously, man? You’re costing us the game,” he muttered, though loud enough for Jeno to hear.

Jeno spun around, eyes blazing with anger. “Mind your own business,” 

Mark’s smirk only widened as he crossed his arms. “Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t realise we were here to watch you fuck up.” He raised a brow, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Maybe if you could actually control your temper, we’d be winning by more.”

Jeno stepped closer, his jaw clenched tight. “How about you shut your mouth before I make you.”

Mark shrugged, not backing down. “Why don’t I beat your ass right here and save us the trouble?”

The tension between them was palpable, their rivalry burning hotter by the second. Even though they were on the same team, they were playing like they were enemies, completely isolated in their own games. Jeno refused to pass the ball to Mark, and Mark ignored Jeno’s open plays, yet somehow, the team was still leading. It was a miracle they were winning at all.

Then came Mark’s turn for a foul. He was dribbling down the court, eyes locked on the basket, when he made an overly ambitious attempt at a crossover. His footwork got tangled, and in an awkward stumble, he ended up traveling—taking one too many steps before the ball left his hands.

The referee’s whistle blew sharply. “Traveling violation on Mark Lee!” Donghyuck announced, the crowd groaning in response.

Jeno, quick to pounce on any mistake, smirked. “Nice one, genius. You forget how to dribble?”

Mark shot him a venomous look, his frustration simmering. “Why don’t you try shutting the hell up?”

The game continued, but the tension between them was only escalating. You saw Jeno glance toward Mark’s best friend in the bleachers, her face bored as she gazed around, barely paying attention.

“Hey, she’s looking pretty fine tonight, right?” Jeno smirked, leaning toward Mark just enough for him to hear. “Can’t wait to get with that after the game.”

Mark’s face twisted with anger, the tension between him and Jeno reaching a boiling point. He shot a glance at you, his voice low but cutting, every word laced with venom. “Caught Jeno in the locker room earlier… guess I finally figured out why you left him.”

The implication hung heavy in the air, unspoken but obvious. The cheerleaders beside you snickered softly, exchanging knowing glances. You widen your eyes in disbelief, a flush creeping up your neck as you process his words. It wasn’t just a jab at Jeno—it was personal, and everyone around could feel it.

Jeno’s face contorted with pure rage, his eyes narrowing as the tension finally snapped. Without hesitation, he hurled the basketball straight at Mark’s head, the thud of impact echoing through the gym. In that split second, the air shifted, thick with hostility, and everything spiraled out of control.

The next thing you knew, they were on each other, fists flying as the audience gasped in shock. Mark shoved Jeno hard, sending him stumbling back. Jeno’s momentum carried him into Karina, who was caught off guard and stumbled back, screaming as she fell to the ground.

But Jeno wasn’t backing down. He regained his balance quickly, grabbed Mark by the collar, and yanked him forward, slamming his fist into Mark’s stomach.

The players on the court rushed in, trying to pull them apart, but they were relentless. Every punch, every shove, was filled with weeks, maybe months, of pent-up frustration. As they tussled, Karina, still on the floor, tried to recover, her face etched with pain and confusion.

Coach Suh stormed onto the court, his face red with anger as he bellowed orders. “What the hell is going on?!”

The referee blew his whistle, his voice barely cutting through the chaos. “That’s it, both of you are out!”

“You’re throwing them both out of the game?!” Coach Suh shouted, barely able to contain his rage.

“I have to, Coach,” the referee yelled back. “Punches were thrown.”

“They’re both on the same team!” Coach Suh screamed, his frustration palpable.

The whole gym was a mess—cheerleaders trying to calm the crowd, players separating the two brothers, Coach Suh losing his mind on the sidelines. You couldn’t believe how quickly things had spiraled out of control.

You rushed over to Karina, helping her up from where she lay on the gym floor. “Are you okay?” you asked, concerned.

She clutched her head, wincing in pain. “Ow, pain,” she muttered, rubbing her temple.

And as you looked back at Mark and Jeno, both of them being escorted off the court, you couldn’t help but wonder how this was all going to end.

───────────────────────────────

The bus rattles down the dark country road, headlights cutting through the shadows as the low hum of the engine mingles with the tired murmurs of the team. The cheerleaders sit scattered across seats, throwing occasional wary glances at Coach Suh, who stands at the front of the coach, face set like stone, eyes boring into the back of everyone’s heads. The tension is thick, even those uninvolved feel the simmering anger rolling off him, spreading like wildfire. But the main culprits sit slouched in the back, sullen and unrepentant.

“Mark Lee, Jeno Lee. On your feet.”

The entire bus goes silent. Jeno rolls his eyes, but he stands, fixing a casual scowl on his face. Mark follows suit, his jaw tight, as if bracing for a hit. Coach Suh steps closer, his gaze narrowing on the two of them, nostrils flaring.

“Congratulations, boys. In all my years coaching, this has got to be a low point.” His words land like blows, the weight of disappointment dripping from each syllable. “That little stunt you pulled almost cost us our undefeated record.”

He pauses, arms crossed, eyes flicking between the two. “I don’t give a damn about your issues with your daddy, your girlfriends, or whatever garbage you’re both dragging out here. As far as I’m concerned, you can hate each other until hell freezes over, but if you’re gonna play on my team, you’re gonna learn how to work together.”

Jeno scoffs, crossing his arms. “I can’t see that happening, Suh.”

Coach Suh’s face hardens, a dangerous glint in his eye. “Yeah? Well, you’ve got thirty miles to figure it out.” Without another word, he jerks his thumb toward the door. “Get off my bus.”

The two barely have a moment to process before Coach is barking orders to the driver. They’re pushed off the bus, stumbling onto the gravel shoulder as the bus door slams shut. Exhaust fumes fill the air as the coach pulls away, taillights fading in the distance, leaving them stranded under a starlit sky.

“They can’t just leave us here,” Jeno mutters, a mixture of disbelief and anger flashing in his eyes.

Mark sighs, shoving his hands into his pockets as he glances down the dark, empty road stretching ahead. “Nice work, idiot.”

Jeno’s gaze snaps toward him, eyes narrowing. “Calm down.”

“You calm down. My phone’s on that bus.”

Mark shakes his head, glancing back at the road as if it might magically bring the bus back. “My wallet’s on that bus, too.”

“Mine too,” Jeno mutters.

The silence stretches between them, punctuated only by the distant rustling of trees in the wind and the steady chirp of crickets. They both realize the absurdity of it — left with nothing but each other on an empty road, thirty miles from any sign of life.

Jeno breaks the silence with a frustrated groan. “What the hell do we do now?”

Mark glances down the road, kicking at the gravel under his feet. “We start walking.”

The night air is chilly, and the silence between them grows colder. They walk side by side, their footsteps crunching on the gravel, neither willing to break the silence until the irritation bubbles over, each resentful glance in the other’s direction building until it finally snaps.

“This wouldn’t have happened if you never joined the team,” Jeno hisses, his voice carrying through the empty night like a challenge.

Mark’s fists clench at his sides, but he keeps his voice low, controlled. “No, we wouldn’t be out here if you weren’t such a jackass about me joining the team.”

Jeno scoffs, turning to face him. “Why do you want my life so bad, anyway?”

Mark stops, looking at him dead-on. “This again? Dude, don’t flatter yourself. You’re the last person I’d wanna trade places with.”

“Oh, yeah?” Jeno’s voice is harsh, his words fueled by a bitterness that runs deep. “All I know is that you came out of nowhere and started grabbing everything you could from me. My game, my girl.” His voice cracks, a flash of vulnerability slipping through before he regains his composure. “Sounds like a broken record, right?”

Mark’s lips curl into a smirk, his eyes glinting in the low light as he shoots back, “Your girl? Last I checked, she dumped your stupid ass.”

Jeno’s jaw tightens, but he scoffs, brushing it off with a roll of his eyes. “I actually dumped her, but—”

Before he can finish, Mark steps closer, his expression darkening, his voice deadly calm. “Watch it.”

They stand there, silence stretching between them, eyes locked in an unspoken challenge. Mark’s mind flashes with memories he’d buried, moments that flood his thoughts with a guilty thrill. He wonders if Jeno has any idea what happened after Jeno walked away from you, the way you gravitated toward Mark, the way you sought him out with a lingering gaze, lips parted, words barely needing to be said.

And Mark wonders what Jeno would do if he knew how you clung to him that night, how your fingers traced his skin, how your breath hitched every time he touched you. If he knew the things you whispered in the dark, the way you looked at him with need, the way you wanted him — wanted to fuck him so badly, a fire in your eyes that had nothing to do with anger and everything to do with desire.

The thought stirs something in Mark, a dangerous satisfaction.

Mark’s gaze softens, but there’s an edge to it, as if he’s finally had enough. “Well, what about you?” he shoots back, voice laced with bitterness. “I bet your grades sucked before you met me.”

Jeno’s face contorts, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Who said all me and her got is about grades?”

Mark studies Jeno’s face for a moment, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. He hesitates, choosing his words carefully, knowing exactly how to hit where it matters without overstepping.

“You ever think about why people put up with you?” Mark says, his tone softer, almost casual, but there’s an edge. “Like my best friend… I don’t know what’s going on between you two but she’s been in your corner even when you don’t make it easy. And you don’t even seem to notice.”

Jeno’s face hardens, his defensiveness flaring up. “Last time I checked, it’s none of your fucking business,” he snaps.

Mark chuckles dryly, shaking his head. “Friends don’t have to keep sticking around, Jeno. She doesn’t have to. You act like people are just gonna stay no matter what, like she’ll always be there for you.” He lets the silence settle, watching Jeno’s reaction. “But even she’s gonna reach her limit eventually.”

Jeno’s jaw tenses, brushing it off. “She won’t..”

Mark just sighs, his gaze shifting down the road. “Just don’t be surprised if one day she’s not waiting around for you to get your act together. She’s got her own life, her own choices.” He glances at Jeno, a hint of something in his eyes Jeno doesn’t quite catch. “And maybe she’s already realizing that.”

───────────────────────────────

The sterile chill of the doctor’s office settles over you as you sit beside Karina, who winces each time she moves her ankle. The rest of the team is back at the motel, locked down under a strict curfew after Coach Suh’s fury over Mark and Jeno’s latest stunt. Somehow, though, he made an exception for you to accompany Karina here, her ankle too swollen and painful to ignore.

Karina shifts on the examination table, sucking in a sharp breath as the doctor carefully assesses the injury, then begins wrapping her ankle in a firm bandage. She bites her lip, eyelids fluttering as she watches him intently, a coy smile playing on her lips. You frown, noticing her glancing up at him with a softness in her eyes that feels oddly out of place. He isn’t even that attractive, you think, confused by her sudden flirtation.

“Don’t worry, doctor,” she says with a playful tilt of her head, voice honeyed. “I’m in good hands, aren’t I?”

You’re about to say something, feeling the strangeness of it all, when the doctor reaches into his drawer, pulling out a small bottle of painkillers. “Here, take one of these now,” he says, handing her a pill, “and just half of one every twelve hours. Don’t take too many at once—”

Karina pops three of them into her mouth, swallowing them with a quick, mischievous grin. “Oops,” she giggles, leaning back with a sigh as if this is all part of the plan.

And in a flash, it clicks — the batting eyelashes, the sugary smile, the subtle brush of her fingers against his hand. She’s not flirting with him for his attention. She’s trying to score extra meds. You watch in astonishment as she tilts her head, feigning another innocent look. “Doctor, do you think I could maybe… have a few more? You know, just in case the pain gets really bad later?”

The doctor hesitates, clearly charmed, and reluctantly hands over a few extra pills. Karina’s eyes glint with satisfaction, tucking the extra pills into her bag as she gives him one last, grateful smile.

As you help Karina hobble out, she’s clutching your arm, her eyes glassy and far too animated. She’s practically bouncing as you guide her down the hallway.

Outside, as you’re about to help her into the car, you notice a familiar face near the entrance. Mark’s best friend stands there, looking caught off guard, her eyes widening as if she’s been caught red-handed.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, a mixture of surprise and suspicion in your voice.

“Oh, I was just… exploring the area,” she says, her voice wavering slightly as she tries to sound casual.

You laugh, shaking your head. “We’re at a doctor’s office.”

She bites her lip, looking away with a sheepish smile. “Yeah, well… I wanted to see it, okay?”

You roll your eyes. “Right. Totally makes sense.”

Karina, meanwhile, is swaying on her feet, her arm still looped through yours, a dazed smile on her face. “We should totally hang out more often, what’s your name?”

The girl says her name, but Karina waves her hand dismissively. “I’m gonna call you ‘Rina’. I don’t like your name.”

The girl looks between the two of you, unsure if she should laugh or be offended. “Thanks… I guess.”

You chuckle, exasperated but amused, as Karina starts humming a random tune under her breath. “C’mon, Karina, let’s get you to the car.”

As you help Karina toward the car, she pauses, glancing back at Mark’s best friend with wide, pleading eyes. “Wait! Y/N, can she come with us?”

You raise an eyebrow, giving her a questioning look. She hesitates, clearing her throat. “I already got a ride back to the motel.”

You sigh, a small, amused smile playing at your lips. “What, the bus? The last one just left a few minutes ago. And you wanna go by public transport at this time of night? In an unknown and dark area?”

She falters, glancing down the empty road, clearly rethinking her plan. Meanwhile, Karina lights up, a grin stretching across her face as if it’s all settled. “Perfect!, you’re coming with us!” she declares, already pulling her toward the back seat.

You can’t help but roll your eyes as they both settle in, Karina giggling and leaning close to her. As soon as you start the car, Karina’s hand darts forward, reaching for the radio.

“Don’t touch the radio, or we’ll have a problem,” you warn, catching her eye in the rearview mirror.

But she’s already twisting the dial, landing on a random station and singing along, loud and out of tune. Mark’s best friend glances at you with a half-smile, half-grimace, clearly unsure of what she’s gotten herself into.

“Don’t worry,” you reassure her with a quick look back. “She’ll be fine once she sleeps it off.”

Karina, oblivious to the cautious energy in the car, leans over, grabbing her friend’s hand with wide, adoring eyes. “You’re my favorite, Rina. We’re gonna be best friends forever,” she slurs with a giggle, still believing her name was ‘Rina.’ 

You stifle a laugh as you pull out onto the road, realising it’s going to be a long, strange ride back to the motel.

───────────────────────────────

The quiet hum of the car blends with Karina’s off-key singing, her hand fiddling with the radio as you drive along the deserted road. The night stretches on outside the car windows, fields bathed in moonlight, the road a dark ribbon cutting through the countryside. Mark’s best friend sits beside Karina, offering an amused glance every now and then, though you can tell she’s half-wishing she’d chosen a different ride back to the motel. You stifle a smile at the absurdity of it all.

The journey’s been quiet for a while now, with Karina’s singing slowing to a soft hum as she leans against the window, eyelids heavy, barely holding onto her high. You’re halfway back, another hour to go, when a movement on the roadside catches your attention. Two figures, barely illuminated by your headlights, are trudging along the shoulder, looking like they’ve been through hell. Squinting, you realise it’s Jeno and Mark, walking side by side, both looking rough and dishevelled. Seriously, did they spend the whole time hitting each other?

You slow down and pull over, giving a quick beep to catch their attention. The boys look up, relief flashing across their faces as they recognize you. But as you look closer, confusion knots in your stomach; they don’t seem like they’re fighting, but they’re covered in marks and bruises, a testament to some kind of ordeal. They approach the car, Jeno with tired eyes and Mark with a weary, yet satisfied look.

You arch an eyebrow, eyeing the two of them, your voice laced with incredulity. “Do I even wanna know what happened?”

Jeno and Mark exchange glances, and without a word of protest, they begin to explain. It starts with them walking back, still stewing in anger from being thrown off the bus. Then, a group of players from the opposing team spotted them and pulled over, offering Jeno a ride. Despite the uneasy feeling in the air, Jeno’s pride wouldn’t let him turn it down, even when Mark, sensing trouble, warned him against it. But Jeno got in anyway, throwing Mark a smug look that all but dared him to follow. Mark, unwilling to leave his brother alone, reluctantly climbed in.

The ride took a turn, just as Mark had feared. The opposing players started messing with them, egging them on with taunts and jeers until they forced Jeno and Mark to strip down to their boxers. Humiliation simmered in Jeno’s eyes, his fists clenched tight, but Mark kept his cool, his mind spinning for a way out. It was then that the players offered a sick deal: they’d leave them alone if the brothers fought each other.

With no other option, Jeno and Mark put on a show, faking punches and grappling. But as they moved, Mark managed to swipe the car keys from one of the guys’ pockets. It was the first time they’d worked together as a team, their silent coordination kicking in out of pure desperation. When the brawl seemed convincing enough, they seized their chance, racing to the car, only to find it stuck in the mud. Swearing under their breath, they abandoned it and took off on foot, laughing despite the absurdity of it all, still bickering, but now with a hint of shared respect.

Listening to their tale, you can’t help but shake your head, a small smile playing on your lips. There’s tension still simmering between them, unspoken words and unresolved resentment hanging heavy in the air. But this, this was a start. It was far too early to think all their issues could be resolved in one night, but maybe — just for tonight — you could all ignore the conflict, let it slip away, and pretend things were fine.

“Coach Suh and his tactics really work,” you muse, half in astonishment, as you look between them when the traffic lights flash red. You catch a rare moment of calm in their expressions, Mark’s gaze softened, Jeno’s cocky mask quietq just slightly as he leans back, arms crossed.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Mark’s best friend with a small smirk, the corner of her lips quirking upward. Huh. What was that about? She’s usually quiet, but there’s something in her look that suggests she knows more than she’s letting on. It’s always the quiet ones, you think, a sense of curiosity stirring.

As you pull away from the stop, a thought crosses your mind — could she have had something to do with this? With Jeno’s sudden willingness to give Mark even a sliver of slack? The ride back stretches on, filled with a strange mixture of silence and soft laughter, the beginnings of an unexpected truce lingering in the air. 

──────────────────────────────

The motel looms in the dim glow of your car’s headlights as you pull into the cracked, uneven parking lot. A few lights flicker weakly along the exterior, casting pale, yellow circles on the worn asphalt, barely enough to pierce through the night. The building itself is modest, cloaked in an air of neglect, with faded paint peeling from the wood and shadows thickening in the crevices around the doors and windows. The faint hum of buzzing neon letters above the entrance spells out “Vacancy,” the ‘V’ occasionally blinking, as if it’s uncertain about its own existence.

Jeno’s voice breaks the silence as he turns to you, hands casually stuffed in his pockets. “Hey, me and the guys are gonna go partying. You wanna come?” He raises an eyebrow, his gaze flickering to Mark for a split second before landing back on you, a hint of mischief in his smile.

You shake your head, laughing softly. “I’m really tired. I think I’ll call it a night. You enjoy yourself, though. I don’t know how you have so much energy after all that happened today.”

Jeno just shrugs, his smile widening. “Suit yourself.”

“I wanna come!” Karina chimes in, bouncing over to Jeno and slinging an arm around his shoulders with such force that he nearly stumbles, catching her with a chuckle. He slips an arm around her back, steadying her, and they both look over at Mark’s best friend, asking if she wants to tag along 

She laughs, shaking her head in amusement. “Fuck it, fine, I’ll go too. Why not?”

Jeno’s gaze drifts back to you, a final question in his eyes. “You sure you don’t want to come, Y/N?”

You smile, shaking your head once more. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

With a shrug, he gives you a warm smile. “Alright, then. Good night.” He gives Mark a small nod, and then the three of them disappear into the shadows of the parking lot, their laughter echoing softly as they head toward the distant thrum of the party.

The night settles around you, the silence deepening. You turn to Mark, who lingers by your side, his presence grounding you in the quiet. He’s watching you, his gaze thoughtful, steady, as if waiting.

The doors to the motel swing open, revealing a dimly lit hallway that stretches out in both directions, lined with faded floral wallpaper and scuffed wooden trim. The smell is a mix of old wood, dust, and something faintly sweet, like the lingering remnants of perfume, as if echoes of past guests have left traces of themselves here, woven into the fabric of the place.

You walk in silence, each footstep softened by the thin, worn carpet, every sound amplified in the otherwise quiet space. The tension between you hums, tangible and charged, filling the stillness with an unspoken understanding that neither of you seems willing to break.

You reach the start of the long hallway, the shadows deepening around you. There, you both come to a natural stop, instinctively turning to face each other. The faint glow from the flickering bulbs above casts soft light across his face, highlighting the curve of his jaw, the warmth in his eyes as he looks down at you. For a moment, neither of you speaks, standing there, so close yet so unsure, the silence thickening as you both search for something to say.

Your mouth parts slightly, words hovering on the edge, but they refuse to come. His gaze holds yours, unwavering, his lips parting just a fraction, mirroring your own silent question, as if he’s also lost in the space between you, not knowing where to begin. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes, a softness that catches you off guard, and you feel the weight of it, heavy and warm, settling in your chest.

Finally, he clears his throat, his voice low, barely above a whisper. “I’ll walk you to your room, this place is so creepy.” He says, the words quiet but steady.

You nod, your breath catching, feeling the warmth of his offer seep into your skin, grounding you. “Yeah… I’d like that, it’s such a dark hallway, it’s so scary.” You murmur, your voice soft, barely breaking the silence, and together, you begin to walk down the dim hallway, your footsteps falling into a quiet rhythm, side by side, close enough to feel each other’s presence, every step heightening the anticipation that hangs between you.

“Let’s go,” he says softly, his voice steady yet gentle, and it pulls you out of the moment, grounding you.

As you walk, Mark stays close by your side, his presence warm and solid in the dimness. You’re embarrassed by the way your hand brushes against his arm, how you instinctively lean just a little closer than necessary, as if his nearness alone can fend off the eerie stillness of the hallway. Your heart pounds louder than you’d like, each beat reminding you how aware you are of him, of every detail — the quiet confidence in his stride, the way his eyes scan the corridor, protective but at ease.

The hallway stretches ahead, narrowing into shadows at the far end, every creak of the floorboards beneath your feet making the silence feel heavier. The motel feels frozen in time, suspended in an atmosphere thick with the ghosts of other people’s stories. Faint, peeling paintings line the walls, barely visible in the dim light, their subjects obscured by layers of dust and age. Mark’s gaze moves from one faded frame to the next, a quiet curiosity in his eyes, as if he’s absorbing every detail, noticing things even you missed.

When you finally reach your room, you fumble with the key, your hands inexplicably shaky, and feel a rush of relief as the door swings open. The room is small, modest, barely illuminated by the single bedside lamp casting a soft, amber glow over the space. The beds are narrow, pushed against opposite walls, their sheets clean but worn, edges frayed, as if they’ve seen countless nights. The carpet is thin, faded in patches, and the heavy drapes by the window barely keep out the dim streetlight filtering in from outside.

You turn to Mark, who stands in the doorway, his gaze moving over the room before landing back on you. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes, something that makes your heart pound a little faster, a warmth that lingers between you in the quiet.

“You can stay… if you want. Karina won’t be back anytime soon, so we could just… hang out,” you murmur, your voice soft, barely above a whisper, feeling the weight of the invitation hanging in the air.

Mark stands there, just inside the doorway, his gaze steady on you, and for a moment, he doesn’t respond. Instead, a small, gentle smile tugs at his lips, and he raises an eyebrow slightly, letting the words hang between you. “‘Hang out?’” he repeats softly, as though he’s testing the phrase.

You feel your cheeks heat up, the way he says it makes the words feel bolder, more vulnerable than you intended. You swallow, nodding, and barely manage to whisper, “Yes.”

He steps further inside, closing the door gently behind him, the quiet click of the lock making your heart pound a little harder. “I’d like that,” he says, his voice warm, carrying a softness that makes the air around you feel charged, close, as though even the walls of the room are holding their breath.

You gesture toward the room with a nervous laugh, trying to ease the tension settling between you. “Oh, by the way… there’s two beds,” you say, your voice soft, almost playful, as if pointing it out might somehow make the moment feel less charged, less intimate.

His eyes follow where you’re pointing, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he glances from one bed to the other, then back to you. The look in his eyes is knowing, almost amused, but he doesn’t say anything, letting the words linger, a silent acknowledgment of the thin veil of casualness you’re both holding onto.

You settle onto the edge of your bed, pulling out your sketchbook, pencils, camera, and laptop, thinking you might take this quiet moment to finish some assignments. Mark moves toward the other bed, but his eyes remain on you, an intensity in his gaze that you can feel even as you focus on your work, earbuds in, trying to ground yourself in the familiar tasks.

You’re so lost in your own world that you don’t notice him move until he gently tugs one earbud out, his fingers brushing your ear softly. You glance up, startled, and find him close, his face inches from yours, a soft amusement in his gaze.

“You’re working? Now?” he whispers, his voice low, carrying a warmth that pulls at something deep inside you.

“Mm-hm,” you manage, feeling suddenly self-conscious under his steady gaze. “It… it needs to get done.”

He watches you for a moment, a quiet curiosity in his eyes, then offers, “Can I help? I’m not really tired.”

You smile, nodding as you pat the empty space beside you. “You can just… sit here. Keep me company.” Your heart races as he settles beside you, the mattress dipping under his weight, pulling you both closer together.

The proximity is overwhelming, his warmth seeping through the space between you, grounding and intoxicating at the same time. You can feel the subtle brush of his arm against yours. The scent of him, soft peaches, lingers in the air, and each detail heightens your awareness of him, making it difficult to focus on anything else.

The silence between you stretches, his eyes holding yours as his hand reaches out, fingers brushing softly against your wrist. He slides the hair tie from your hand, his touch deliberate, steady, igniting a tingling warmth that spreads through you.

Without a word, he gathers your hair gently, his fingers working it into a loose, careful hold, his movements precise yet tender. The way he pulls the tie over your hair feels intimate, his fingers grazing your neck, sending a shiver down your spine as he finishes, his hand lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.

“Thank—thank you,” you manage, voice barely above a whisper, feeling an inexplicable rush of warmth at the simple, quiet closeness of the moment.

He smiles, his gaze tracing over you, lingering on the way your hair falls loosely around your shoulders. “You look… different with your hair up,” he murmurs, his eyes dipping to your neck. “You should wear it like that more often.”

You try to respond, but your words stumble over each other, caught in the quiet storm of his attention. “I… I usually… thank you,” you manage, feeling the heat bloom across your cheeks, acutely aware of how vulnerable you feel under his gaze.

It’s strange, feeling so affected by him. You’ve always been the one in control, the one who never falters, but here, in this quiet, dimly lit room, it’s as if he has stripped away every layer, leaving you open, raw, trembling with a mixture of anticipation and curiosity.

“So,” he says, his voice breaking the silence, smooth and warm, “what do you need help with?”

He looks down at your camera, piecing together your intentions with a quiet, knowing smile, and you find yourself blurting out, “Can I… take some photos of you? For one of my projects?”

He holds your gaze, nodding slowly. “Yes,” he answers, his voice steady, unhesitating, as if he’s saying yes to more than just the photos.

You stand, adjusting the lighting, switching off the main lights and leaving only the soft glow of the bedside lamp, casting warm shadows across the room. The light caresses his features, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw, the soft curve of his lips, the quiet strength in his posture. It feels like he belongs here, in this softened light, like he’s made for this moment, this intimacy.

You lift the camera, heart pounding as you look through the lens, capturing the way his eyes follow you, calm and steady, a hint of curiosity flickering in their depths. He’s not just a subject; he’s something real, something grounding, something that makes your breath catch with every click of the shutter.

Zooming in closer, you focus on the details — the way his lashes cast shadows on his cheek, the hint of stubble along his jaw, the relaxed curve of his lips. You feel your pulse quicken, each shot a quiet revelation, a piece of him you’re allowed to see, a vulnerability he’s offering willingly.

“Come closer,” he murmurs, his voice a gentle command, pulling you deeper into the moment. You step closer, the distance between you disappearing, and he leans back, spreading his arms casually along the headboard, letting his head fall back slightly, exposing the soft line of his neck. It’s an invitation, a silent offering, and you capture it, feeling your heart stutter with every shot.

At one point, he reaches out, fingers brushing the lens, then your hand, his touch light but grounding, making your hands tremble. His eyes meet yours, his voice soft, almost reverent. “Can I see what you’ve taken?”

You flip the camera around, showing him, and he studies each shot, his gaze intense, thoughtful, a quiet pride flickering in his eyes. “These are… they’re really good,” he says, his voice laced with something deeper, something that feels like admiration

Your cheeks flush, and you look away, stammering, “It’s… it’s nothing. Just… I mean, it’s easy to get good shots when—” You stop, feeling the words catch in your throat, the compliment feeling almost too much to say aloud.

Mark’s gaze softens as he watches you, a quiet, understanding smile spreading across his face. “When?” he prompts, leaning in slightly, his voice coaxing but gentle, waiting patiently for you to finish.

You hesitate, feeling your heart race, before managing, “When the person in front of the camera… makes it easy.” The words are quiet, barely more than a whisper, but he hears them, his eyes darkening just a bit, a flicker of something deeper passing over his face.

He doesn’t look away. Instead, he reaches out again, fingertips brushing lightly along the side of the camera, his touch grazing yours. “You know, you should give yourself more credit for how gifted you are. You have a real eye for photography and capturing the scene, I just wish you’d realise that,” he murmurs, a note of awe in his voice. “It’s like you capture more than just what’s in front of you.” His hand finds yours, fingers wrapping around yours gently, grounding and intimate.

The silence that settles around you is thick with unspoken understanding, a closeness that feels as though it’s been building since the moment you stepped into the room. He lowers his hand but keeps his gaze on you, his eyes soft, searching. The air between you grows still, and you’re aware of every breath, every slight shift in the mattress beneath you, the scent of him lingering around you, warm and inviting.

It feels like he’s going to kiss you, but instead, he breaks the moment with a small grin, tilting his head as he looks at you. He reaches for the camera in your hands, fingers brushing yours as he takes it.

“Your turn,” he says, his voice warm, coaxing. “Let me take a few of you.”

You hesitate, glancing at the camera and then back at him, unsure, feeling the flush deepen in your cheeks. But he just smiles, steady and reassuring. “I want to see you… as you are,” he murmurs, his tone genuine, his gaze holding an invitation you can’t quite resist.

He shifts closer, his hand gently guiding your shoulders back, adjusting your posture with a care that’s both comforting and intimate. “Here… just relax,” he says softly, his fingers lingering briefly on your shoulder before moving to rest gently on your waist, positioning you as he wants. You feel a warmth radiate from his touch, a grounding sensation that makes it hard to breathe steadily.

“Relax,” he says again, his voice low, soothing, his gaze focused on you as if you’re the only thing in the room. “Just be yourself. That’s all I’m asking.” His fingers adjust the angle of your arm, his thumb brushing along your wrist as he guides you into a natural, comfortable pose. The intensity in his gaze makes you feel like he’s peeling back every layer, seeing something raw and true beneath your surface.

He lifts the camera, snapping a few shots, his focus unwavering. “That’s perfect,” he murmurs, his eyes flicking from the viewfinder to you, his smile soft, encouraging. “Just like that.” There’s a quiet reverence in his tone, as if he’s in awe, like he’s seeing you in a way no one else ever has.

You shift, self-conscious, and he moves even closer, reaching out to gently tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering at your temple. “You don’t have to hold back,” he says, voice low and close. “Just let go, Y/N. It’s only me.” His words sink in, their honesty disarming, making you feel safe, and you can’t help but let a small smile break through, the tension in your shoulders easing.

Mark smiles, his voice soft as he captures another shot. “See? You’re beautiful, exactly as you are,” he says, the words genuine, quiet, like he’s saying them more to himself than to you. His hand finds your shoulder again, his thumb brushing in a light, comforting circle as he adjusts the angle, his touch steadying you.

His gaze never wavers, and in the silence, he murmurs, “You make this look easy, you know that?” His fingers trail gently along your collarbone, adjusting your posture, his hand lingering just a moment longer than necessary, a warmth seeping through his touch.

“Mark…” you whisper, unsure of what to say, your voice barely audible.

Mark’s gaze holds steady, an unwavering confidence in his eyes as he lifts the camera and gives a slight nod. “Take off your sweater,” he says, voice low, almost a soft command. There’s no hesitation, no room for second-guessing in his tone, just a quiet assurance that makes your heart race.

“Mark?” you murmur, uncertain, searching his expression, feeling a flicker of nerves.

He smirks, the corner of his mouth tugging up in that playful, knowing way of his. “It’s for the sake of art,” he insists, a teasing edge to his voice. “You can’t argue with me on that.”

You feel a rush of heat spread through your cheeks, his words emboldening you. His gaze is steady, encouraging, his confidence somehow reassuring, and you find yourself trusting him, letting go of your hesitation. 

The sweater slips from your fingers and pools on the floor, leaving you in nothing but a lace bra, delicate and sheer, hugging your curves and revealing just enough to make the air between you feel electric. The lace clings to your skin, delicate patterns stretching across your chest, faintly exposing the shape of your breasts, the soft rise and fall with each breath, and the subtle peak of your nipples through the fabric. You can feel the cool air prickling your skin, heightening every sensation, every nerve ending alive under his gaze.

Mark’s eyes travel over you, lingering at the curves, the shadows, his gaze tracing every inch like he’s committing it to memory. His breath catches, almost imperceptibly, as his eyes roam over the lace, lingering at the exposed skin along your collarbone, dipping lower to take in the lines of your waist, the softness of your stomach. There’s a sharpness in his gaze, an intensity, but it’s the way his jaw tightens, the way his throat bobs with a quiet swallow that reveals the effect you’re having on him.

The camera hangs loosely in his hands, momentarily forgotten as he studies you, his gaze darkening with each second. You feel the weight of his attention, the way his eyes roam over the gentle curve of your hips, the delicate arch of your ribcage, as if he’s savoring every detail, reluctant to let any part of you go unnoticed.

He raises the camera again, and the click of the shutter feels heavier this time, intimate. With each shot, you feel more exposed, more seen. His silence speaks louder than any words, each subtle shift in his posture, each lingering look, making you feel like you’re the only thing that matters in the room.

Mark’s voice is a low, commanding whisper. “Take everything else off.”

You feel a surge of heat rush through you, your fingers lingering at the hem of your bra as you meet his gaze, challenging, steady. “You want me to strip for you?” Your voice carries a daring edge, matching the intensity of his.

You don’t wait for him to respond or to take all of the control. Instead, you lean in, grabbing the back of his neck, pulling him down with a force that matches the heat between you, crashing your lips into his. The kiss is raw, hungry, unrestrained, a fierce claim that leaves no space for hesitation. Your hands grip onto his shoulders, your nails dragging across his skin, feeling the hard muscle tense beneath as your touch ignites a fire between you both. His jaw clenches under your grip, and you let your lips roam, biting and sucking along the line of his neck, relishing the way his breath hitches, the way his body reacts to every bold touch, every demanding kiss.

He lets out a low growl, meeting your fervour, his hands gripping your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies are pressed tight, his breath hot against your mouth. The kiss is messy, fierce, a clash of teeth and tongues, meeting each other’s roughness head-on. His hand finds your hair, tugging just enough to make you gasp, and he takes advantage of the moment, pressing deeper, his tongue tracing over yours, tasting you with a hunger that’s as consuming as it is electric. Every movement is rough, every touch searing. 

You push him back, guiding him down onto the bed as you climb over him, pressing him firmly against the mattress. Your hands trace over his chest, feeling every line and curve of muscle, savouring the way his body responds to your touch. His hands grip your hips with a rough urgency, holding you close as you begin to grind against him, the friction between you intense and undeniable. The movement sends waves of heat through you, a building pressure that makes you both gasp, your bodies finding a rhythm together, every shift and grind drawing you closer.

You press down onto him, moving your hips in a steady rhythm, feeling the hardness beneath you, his body responding to each shift, each movement. There’s a delicious pressure that builds with every grind, his hands pressing firmly into your hips, guiding you, encouraging you to press even closer. The rough fabric of his jeans adds to the sensation, intensifying the friction, making each rock of your hips a mix of pressure and heat. You can feel his breath hitch, his body tensing beneath yours, every low groan that escapes him spurring you on, the sounds blending with your own gasps as you both lose yourselves in the feeling, the closeness, the raw connection building between you.

Your mouth finds his neck, leaving a trail of kisses as you rock against him, feeling the rise and fall of his breath, the low, raw sounds escaping from both of you. His hands press into your skin, pulling you against him with each grind, the friction building, your moans filling the air as you lose yourselves in the rhythm, a desperate, unrestrained connection as you both give in completely.

Without breaking away, you slide your hands down, gripping the hem of his shirt, fingers curling into the fabric as you start to lift it. There’s a sense of urgency in your movements, a building anticipation that makes your pulse race, but just as you begin to pull his shirt up, his hands catch your wrists, stopping you with a firm but gentle grip.

“Not yet,” he whispers, his breath warm against your lips as he leans in to press a soft, lingering kiss there. He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze intense, searching. “I want to know more about you… everything you’re willing to tell me.” His words are quiet but hold a weight, a sincerity that sinks deep, leaving you feeling bare in a way that has nothing to do with clothes.

His steady gaze holds yours, and you feel your confident act slipping away, replaced by something softer, more vulnerable. There’s a warmth in his eyes, a sense of safety that makes you want to open up, to let him in, even though sharing yourself hasn’t always come easily.

You hum softly, nodding, and he continues, his voice low and inviting. “Let’s play a game, hm? Tell me something about yourself that you’ve never told anyone, and for each secret, you get to take off one piece of my clothes.”

A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth, and you nod, feeling oddly comfortable, the way he looks at you making you feel secure, protected. Normally, you’d hesitate to let anyone in this close, but with him, it feels right, natural, as if he’s creating a space for you to share, to be yourself without judgment.

You take a breath, gathering your thoughts. “Alright… here’s one,” you begin, your voice barely above a whisper. “When I was a kid, I used to sneak out at night, just to take photos of the sky and all of the constellations. I’d sit outside for hours. That's how my love for photography started. It was when I felt safest and most at peace.”

He smiles, the warmth in his eyes deepening, and without a word, he leans in, brushing his lips softly against yours, a tender kiss that holds a quiet reverence. You take the moment, slipping your hands under his shirt, pulling it up and over his head, letting it fall to the floor. He looks at you, bare-chested, his skin warm, his chest rising and falling with each steady breath.

You take him in, the lean lines of his torso revealed in the dim light. His skin is smooth and inviting, the muscles of his chest subtly defined, rising and falling with each steady breath. Your eyes trace the lines of his collarbone, down to the toned plane of his chest, where each contour hints at both strength and vulnerability.

You smile, feeling the intimacy between you grow, and decide to lighten the moment with your next fact. “Alright, here’s a weird one… I’m terrified of carrots,” you admit with a shy laugh, “and I have no idea why. It’s irrational.”

He chuckles, his laugh low and soft, his eyes crinkling with amusement. You giggle too, your laughter spilling over as you kiss him again, the lightheartedness making the moment feel even more genuine, more real. You climb off him for a second, struggling playfully as you work on unzipping his jeans, and he lifts his hips, sliding them off and tossing them to the floor with a grin.

In one quick motion, he pulls you back on top of him, his hands finding your thighs as he guides you down, holding you close. You start to grind against him again, you’re unable to resist. Your breaths mingle, a delicious friction building as you press down onto him, the heat between you intensifying. His hard length presses through the thin material of his boxers, and you let out a soft, high-pitched moan, feeling your own body respond, your hips moving of their own accord.

“You still have one more fact to tell me,” he murmurs, his voice teasing, his lips brushing your ear as he smirks, clearly enjoying how distracted you’re becoming.

You bite your lip, your hands splayed against his chest as you try to focus, the warmth of his body beneath you making it hard to think. He leans in close, his voice a low murmur. ��You know, you haven’t even been fucked by my cock and you’re already this needy…”

As you reach the last barrier of his clothing, a sigh of relief escapes you. Your hands tremble slightly with anticipation as they move towards the zip on his jeans. But before you can pull it down, his hands clamp over yours, stopping you. His grip is firm, his expression stern yet amused by your obvious eagerness.

You pout deeply, frustration and desire mingling on your face. “I’ve told you enough, please take off your pants.”

He chuckles, clearly enjoying your desperation. “I don’t know, I think I’m going to need a little more detail, baby. What about being dominated do you like so much?” 

Caught off guard by his insistence on understanding your desires, you falter for a moment before admitting, “I like being pinned down,” your eyes flicking to his arms, imagining them restraining you, the thought alone sending a thrill through you.

“And what else?” he presses, leaning in closer.

“I like being slapped, spit on, choked, being fucked dumb. I just like feeling like I’ve completely lost control and the guy on top takes it,” you confess, your voice a whisper of raw honesty.

He smirks, his voice dropping to a seductive growl. “Oh, is that what you want from me? You want me to hold you down and fuck you so hard you forget your own name? You want me to use you, throw you around?”

You nod vigorously, “Mhm, now can I have your cock, pleaseee?” your whisper laden with need.

“I don’t know, it feels like there’s something you’re holding back,” he teases, his hands loosening their hold on yours, his own patience wearing thin as his desire builds.

Your cheeks burn with a blush as you quietly mumble, “I have a daddy kink…” His eyebrows raise slightly, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement but he doesn’t comment, simply shakes his head in feigned disbelief and finally unzips his jeans.

You don’t waste any time, you pull down his boxers and his cock springs free, thick and hard, its sheer size both thrilling and nearly overwhelming. Your breath catches in your throat, eyes widening as you take in every inch, every pulse seeming to echo the growing need inside you. Vulnerability and desire mix within you, and you can’t tear your gaze away, the sight stirring something deep and all-consuming. A quiet gasp slips past your lips, your cheeks flushing as the thought of him inside you settles heavily, making you ache.

The moment stretches, your anticipation growing unbearable, and before you can stop yourself, a loud, needy moan escapes, filling the room with the raw, unfiltered sound of your desire. It shocks you, how loudly you moaned, as if your body was acting on its own, unable to contain just how badly you need him. The sound reverberates in the quiet space, and even as you try to stifle it, the moans keep slipping out. Your eyes drink in every detail of his cock, your body throbbing with hunger and anticipation that knots in your stomach, urging you closer.

Your mouth waters as you stare, the craving growing stronger with every second. You trace the length of him with wide eyes, the thickness and veins seeming almost unreal, the girth larger than anything you’d imagined. The head is flushed, every throb pulsing with a heat that leaves you dizzy. “Fuck—fuck,” you whimper, voice trembling as disbelief and raw hunger mix in the words. You can barely believe the size, the thickness that promises to fill every part of you, your body reacting instinctively, the longing drawing you closer to him.

Mark chuckles, his eyes glinting with amusement as he catches your reaction. A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Not what you expected?” he asks, voice low and teasing, full of a quiet confidence that makes your cheeks burn even more.

You shake your head, feeling a shy smile forming as you bite back a small “no,” your voice barely above a whisper. “Respectfully,” you add, voice trembling, “nice guys don’t have big cocks.” The words spill out, almost involuntarily, your gaze still locked on him, unable to look away, entranced.

He chuckles again, shaking his head, his smirk deepening as he watches you. “Who said I’m a nice guy?” he murmurs, the words carrying a promise that sends a thrill through you. You don’t realise it now, but you’re going to regret saying that.

“Come here,” he whispers, his voice rough but soft, drawing you closer with a gentle pull. His hands slide up your back, finding the clasp of your bra, and in one smooth movement, he unhooks it. His gaze is dark and intense as the fabric slips away, his eyes fixated on the way your breasts fall free, the soft curve of your skin catching the low light. His lips part slightly, and you catch the way his breathing hitches, almost like he’s savoring the sight. 

He doesn’t rush, doesn’t speak. Instead, his hands come up, fingers tracing along the swell of your chest before letting his palms cup and lift, making you gasp at the warmth and firmness of his touch. Each bounce, each subtle movement seems to captivate him, his gaze drinking in every detail as though he’s committing it to memory.

He doesn’t hold back, guiding your hips firmly as he slides your jeans and lace thong down in one fluid motion, leaving you both fully naked. You’re seated on his lap now, feeling every inch of his body pressed against yours, the heat between you almost unbearable. His cock rests beneath you, thick and solid, pressing up against your warmth, and you feel a pang of anticipation, desire twisting in your stomach. He watches you with a patient hunger, his hands resting at your hips, giving you the space to take him at your own pace.

Slowly, you begin to lower yourself, feeling the tip of his cock pressing against your entrance, stretching you in a way that feels almost impossible. As you sink down, the sheer size of him has you gasping, his girth filling every inch, forcing your body to accommodate his length. You feel yourself stretch around him, the pressure building as you inch lower, and a strangled moan escapes your lips. 

The fullness is overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and an ache that borders on pain, and your hands grip his shoulders as if you’re afraid to let go. “God,” you whisper, barely able to speak. You stare at him in disbelief, feeling the sheer depth and thickness of him, every inch stretching you in ways you’ve never experienced. You’ve had a lot of sex, but you’ve never felt anything this big, this deep inside of you. Your voice trembles as you struggle to find words, the overwhelming sensation making it hard to breathe.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you adjust to him, your body reacting to the way he fills you so completely. “You’re… so big,” you murmur, voice cracking as your breathing quickens. Each inch you take seems to stretch you further, filling you more than you thought possible. He’s thick, almost too much to handle, and yet you can’t stop yourself from wanting every bit of him.

Mark’s gaze softens, a flicker of pride in his eyes as he watches the way you shake on top of him. His hands slide up to cradle your face, thumbs gently brushing away the tears that slip down your cheeks. He leans forward, his lips brushing your ear, and whispers softly, “It’s okay, I’ve got you.” His voice is gentle, almost soothing, and his breath is warm against your skin. “Take your time, baby… let me feel you.”

Before you can fully adjust, he shifts his grip on your hips, and in one fluid motion, he flips the two of you, rolling you onto your back beneath him. The world spins for a brief second, your heart racing as you feel his weight press down, grounding you. His hands find your hips again, holding you steady, his eyes dark with intent as he leans over you, a soft smirk playing on his lips. You’re breathless, the depth of him now more intense as he angles himself above you, his gaze locked on yours as he slowly presses deeper

As he presses into you, the stretch is intense, nearly overwhelming. You feel the fullness, but it’s too much, and the ache borders on pain. Your hands fly up to cover your face as it twists in discomfort, trying to absorb the pressure and failing. “Mark, I—‘too big.’” You breathe out, barely able to get the words out as they’re forced through shallow gasps.

Mark looks down at you with the utmost care, his gaze soft and full of patience. He slides his cock out slowly, each inch easing the pressure, and it doesn’t take long—he’s barely inside of you. “That’s okay,” he whispers, voice low and comforting, brushing a few stray hairs from your face as you breathe deeply, trying to steady yourself. “We’ll just try again.” His words are so gentle, filled with such affection that it makes you dizzy, and you can’t help the small, shaky whimper that escapes you as you nod.

You look up at him, eyes searching his face, and he leans in close, pressing a soft, grounding kiss to your lips, his hands finding yours and gripping them firmly. “You think if I eat you out, it’ll make it easier for me to fuck you?” he murmurs, voice teasing, lips brushing yours. 

You pout, feeling the need still thrumming inside you, and sigh, “Just want your cock.”

He chuckles softly, shaking his head as he kisses you again, trailing down your body. “And it’s all yours… just be patient with me, okay?” he whispers, his voice laced with warmth and care. He moves down, positioning his head in between your thighs, his eyes flicking up to meet yours one last time as his grip on your hand remains, grounding you. His other hand slides up your thigh, fingers pressing firmly as he pushes your legs wider, his touch sending a thrill through you.

Without another word, his mouth descends on you, his tongue flicking over your clit with a deliberate, rough pressure that makes you gasp, every nerve ending igniting under his touch. His mouth moves with an intensity that’s both passionate and unyielding, his tongue tracing slow, sensual circles before pressing firmly, flicking against you with a skill that sends jolts of pleasure straight through your core. He doesn’t let up, lips sealing around your clit, sucking softly, then harder, dragging you deeper into bliss with every motion. Your hips buck against his face, desperate for more, and he growls softly in response, the vibration sending shivers up your spine as he anchors you in place, his grip firm and possessive.

You tug harder on his hair, pulling him even closer, feeling his warm breath against your skin as he sinks his tongue inside you, thrusting and curling with a rhythm that leaves you gasping. He moves rougher, his tongue pressing deeper, tasting you with a hunger that’s almost primal, his hands sliding up to keep your thighs spread wide as he devours you, lost in the moment. Your legs tighten around his shoulders, locking him in place, and he responds with even more intensity, mouth working you harder, deeper, his lips brushing against your slick skin as his tongue finds your clit again, circling it with maddening precision.

With one final, perfectly timed flick of his tongue, the tension snaps, and you’re sent spiraling over the edge. Your body arches, shuddering as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you, each pulse more intense than the last. Mark stays exactly where he is, his mouth locked on you, drawing out every last tremor, coaxing every ounce of pleasure from your body. His hands grip your thighs, possessive and steady, keeping you firmly in place as he savors every second of your release.

Even as your body goes limp beneath him, trembling and breathless, his tongue continues its slow, gentle strokes, easing you down from the high, until you’re left blissfully spent in his hands, every nerve tingling in the aftermath.

Mark’s gaze darkens as he presses a wet, lingering kiss right against your core. The way his tongue flicks over you sends an involuntary shiver up your spine, his mouth exploring you with slow, deliberate attention. His lips leave you breathless, a mix of pleasure and anticipation curling through your body as he pulls back, a faint smirk tugging at his mouth.

He straightens up, positioning himself at your entrance, his hand gripping your thigh firmly. “Ready for me again, baby?” he murmurs, voice a husky promise as he holds your gaze. With a slow, steady push, he slides inside, inch by inch, letting you feel the stretch, the delicious pressure as he fills you. His eyes flicker with intensity, every movement calculated, controlled. A low, satisfied groan escapes him as he presses further, savoring every moment as he sinks deeper, letting you feel every inch.

His lips meet yours in a soft kiss, the warmth of his mouth contrasting with the steady pressure below. “You feel so good,” he whispers against your lips, his words a low, soothing hum. His thrusts remain slow and unhurried, each one pushing deeper, brushing every sensitive spot, his cock moving with deliberate precision, heightening every sensation. His hand trails up, cradling the back of your neck as he kisses you again, letting the intensity build in the rhythm he sets, every movement designed to keep you on the edge, drawing out your pleasure with each slow, consuming thrust.

You close your eyes, letting his words wash over you, the combination of his gentle encouragement and the feeling of him stretching you making you feel vulnerable and cherished all at once. He watches you intently, his gaze darkening as he feels you around him. “God, you’re so tight for me,” he murmurs, his voice a low, rough whisper that sends a shiver through you. His hands grip your waist, holding you firmly as he moves slowly, letting you feel the full stretch, every inch of him pressing deeper, unhurried and deliberate.

“You’re filling me so perfectly,” you murmur, barely able to keep your voice steady, each slow, deliberate thrust making you shiver. “Please, don’t stop… I want all of you.” The words spill from your lips in a quiet plea, your body arching into him, craving the closeness, the depth.

He presses a tender kiss to your jaw, trailing soft kisses down your neck as you adjust to him, each movement sending a wave of pleasure through you. His hands rest at your waist, guiding you with a patience that contrasts the intensity of the moment. “Look at you,” he murmurs softly, a hint of awe in his voice. “Taking me so well like you were made for me.”

He hovers above you, his hands pressing firmly against your hips to keep you in place as he rolls his hips forward, each subtle movement drawing a soft cry from you. His touch is steady, grounding, his gaze fixed on yours with a smirk tugging at his lips. Leaning down, his mouth brushes against your ear, his breath warm and thick with satisfaction. “Just like that,” he whispers, voice low and controlled, laced with pride. “I knew you could take me… you’re doing so well.” His lips hover near your ear, his words fanning over your skin, deep and reassuring. He inches in further, each slow thrust emphasising the stretch, pushing you to feel every bit of him.

He groans softly, his lips capturing yours in a brief, hungry kiss, his mouth warm and possessive before he pulls back. With painstaking slowness, he sinks into you again, inch by inch, the stretch intense as your body instinctively tightens around him. Every shift of his hips sends a spark of pleasure coursing through you, his cock pressing deeper, thick and pulsing, letting you feel the full weight of him as he takes his time.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, voice rough with desire, his grip firm on your hips as he holds you steady. The deliberate pace keeps you teetering on the edge, the friction building as he fills you completely with each slow, controlled thrust. Unable to hold back, you lift your hips to meet his movements, grinding up against him, seeking more. Your hands find his shoulders, nails digging in as you move with him, matching the rhythm he’s set, each roll of your hips bringing him deeper, sparking pleasure that leaves you gasping.

Your breath catches as you rock against him, the ache of desire driving you to push up, to take him further, your body arching in response to every deliberate thrust. “Please,” you whisper, the need undeniable as you move under him, craving the fullness, the heat of his skin against yours. Your breath catches, body arching instinctively, craving more, needing him to fill you fully. But he keeps his pace torturously steady, making you feel every inch as he fills you, pulling back just enough to leave you aching.

A low groan escapes him as he watches you, the ghost of a smirk tugging at his mouth. “You want me to go harder, don’t you?” His hands slide up your sides, thumbs brushing over your skin as he holds you steady, grounding you beneath him, each touch leaving a warmth that only makes you crave him more.

You nod, lips parted in a soft gasp, eyes pleading. “Yes.” You whisper, voice trembling, the word escaping you in a quiet, desperate plea. “I need more…”

He smirks as he leans close, his breath hot against your skin, his voice a low, intoxicating growl. "I know how much you need it," he murmurs, each word dripping with control, teasing you with every deliberate thrust. The way he fills you-inch by inch-stretches you in a way that has your body clenching desperately around him, pushing you closer to the edge with every slow, deep movement.

Your fingers dig into his shoulders, clutching onto him, your breaths ragged as you finally let the word spill from your lips, barely a whisper. "Please, daddy," you gasp, voice trembling with need, the desperation in your tone sparking a darker look in his eyes. 

"That’s my good girl," he growls. The slow, torturous build finally shatters as he lets go, hips snapping forward with a force that has you gasping, every thrust deeper, harder. His grip on you is firm, fingers digging into your skin as he watches you tremble, a possessive edge in his gaze as he fills you again and again.

“God, look at you,” he growls, voice thick with satisfaction, eyes heavy with desire. “Taking every inch… like you’re made for me.” His voice is low, a murmur that’s somehow gentle despite the roughness of his thrusts. He keeps his eyes locked on yours, his pace relentless, the force of each thrust making you moan, your cries mixing with his own low groans.

He leans down, his lips brushing against your ear as he chuckles softly, taking in the desperate whimpers escaping you. “I know, baby,” he murmurs, the mockery gone, his voice softer, filled with something deeper. “I’ve got you… don’t worry.” He pushes into you deeper, grinding his hips in a way that has you arching, needing every inch.

“Please… don’t stop,” you gasp, voice breaking as he pounds into you, his movements leaving you breathless, your body clinging to his as he fills you again and again, rougher, harder, until the tension is unbearable.

He watches you, his gaze warm yet possessive, hand slipping down to press between your thighs, fingers teasing as he brings you closer to the edge. “Such a tight pussy,” he breathes, voice low and reverent as he watches you fall apart beneath him, his hands gripping your thighs to spread you open as he drives into you with raw, unrelenting force. “So beautiful… so perfect.”

His hips slam into you with an unrestrained rhythm, each thrust harder and faster than the last, sending shockwaves through your body. Your legs tighten around his waist, locking him in as he finds that perfect angle, hitting it relentlessly, making you see stars. The pleasure is overwhelming, building with every stroke, your body arching up to meet his as he drives deeper, every inch filling you completely, stretching you in ways that make you gasp. Your nails scrape down his back as you cling to him, losing all control, the sensation pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

Your breath catches, turning into desperate, breathless moans that rise in pitch as he keeps going, unrelenting. You feel yourself spiralling, every nerve on fire as the tension coils tight. Just when you can’t hold back anymore, his pace quickens, and you scream his name. “Oh god, yes! Right there.” The sounds that release from you were raw and uncontrolled, echoing around you as your body clenches around him, your release crashing over you in waves. He doesn’t stop, his thrusts hard and deep, riding out every pulse, keeping you suspended in that overwhelming high, both of you completely lost in each other.

“Look at me,” he coaxes, his thumb brushing over your hip as he pulls back slightly before sinking back in, his gaze locked onto yours, absorbing each gasp that escapes your lips. He presses his hand down on your lower stomach, a bulge forming beneath his palm as he fills you to the hilt. “You feel me here?” he murmurs, voice thick, watching your reaction as the pressure intensifies. “That’s all for you.” The sensation makes you tremble, every nerve coming alive under his touch, grounding you in the overwhelming intensity of each slow, deep movement.

“I could stay like this forever, buried inside you,” he says, each word reverberating through you as his hand stays firm against your stomach, feeling every thrust. His hands glide up your back, pulling you closer, his lips capturing yours in a gentle kiss that contrasts the raw intensity below. “I want you to feel every inch, baby,” he whispers, his gaze never leaving yours, rocking into you deeply, each stroke unhurried but consuming. “This is all for you.”

The pressure builds, overwhelming and all-consuming, and you feel yourself clenching tighter around him, unable to hold back. “I’m gonna cum,” you gasp, your voice breaking as the words tumble out, raw and desperate. The sensation is electric, each thrust pushing you closer, and he grips your hips, pulling you down to meet him with every powerful stroke.

“Do it,” he growls, his voice thick with need, his gaze locked onto yours as he watches you unravel. His movements quicken, his cock throbbing inside you, stretching you to the limit, and just as your release crashes over you, he lets go, spilling into you as he presses deep, holding you against him. The heat of his release fills you, his moans low and guttural as he pulses within you, every inch of him flooding you completely, and you tremble beneath him, gasping for air as the waves of pleasure leave you both breathless and spent.

“Good girl,” he whispers against your lips, his voice soft yet filled with a lingering possessiveness that leaves you flustered, speechless, and overwhelmed by the intensity of what just happened. The warmth of his touch, the weight of his gaze—it all feels so intimate, so unlike anything you’ve experienced before.

Before you know it, he’s lifting you into his arms, carrying you effortlessly to the shower. The warmth of the water surrounds you as he gently cleans you, his hands moving with a tender care that soothes every aching muscle. He massages your shoulders, trails body wash over your skin, and you feel completely cared for in his embrace. This is new, this level of affection and attention after something so intense. With Jeno, it was always straight to sleep, never this depth. But with Mark, you find yourself spending the night held close, his arms wrapped around you, feeling safe, satisfied, and genuinely cherished for the first time in a long while.

───────────────────────────────

The morning sun spilled gently through the curtains, casting a soft glow that illuminated the room with a warm, amber light. You were wrapped securely in Mark’s arms, the comforting presence of his body intertwined with yours under the soft sheets. For the first time in ages, you woke feeling completely at peace, savoring the best sleep you’d had in so long. The thought flickered through your mind that you could definitely get used to mornings like this.

However, tranquility shattered the instant you opened your eyes and saw Karina standing at the foot of the bed, her eyes wide and fixed on both of you. Panic surged through your veins, and a scream escaped your lips, sharp and loud. Karina, equally startled, screamed back, the sound echoing in the small room.

Mark, awoken by the commotion, sat up abruptly. His eyes darted to Karina, but he remained silent, assessing the situation with a calm that contrasted sharply with the chaos of the moment.

She stood frozen, her eyes darting between you and Mark, her expression a complex tapestry of shock, confusion, and something deeper—perhaps hurt. The air felt charged, heavy with words unspoken and questions unasked.

“Karina, I—” Your voice broke as you scrambled for words, the initial panic giving way to a deep-seated embarrassment. You clutched the sheet to your chest, acutely aware of your nakedness.

Mark’s hand found yours under the sheets, giving a reassuring squeeze. Unlike your visible distress, he remained unnervingly calm, his gaze steady on Karina. “It’s not what it looks like,” You started, but the cliché sounded hollow even to your own ears.

Karina’s eyebrows knitted together, her expression a mix of confusion and hurt as she struggled to find the right words. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, the struggle evident in her face. Finally, managing to push past the lump in her throat, she asked in a choked voice, “How long?”

You could feel Mark tense beside you, the muscles in his body tightening as he absorbed the weight of her question, laden with implications and unspoken accusations. He remained silent, however, allowing you to handle the conversation, understanding his unfamiliarity with Karina meant it was not his place to speak.

“Only once, we’ve only fucked once so far.” You began, your voice soft, attempting to keep the situation calm, “can we talk about this outside?” The bedsheet clutched tightly in your hands, you tried to convey sincerity, hoping she’d agree to a more private discussion away from the charged atmosphere of the bedroom.

You watched as Karina’s gaze shifted to you, her eyes searching yours. There was a sadness there, deep and poignant, hinting at more than just the shock of the discovery. Swallowing hard, you slipped from the bed, wrapping yourself in the sheet and stepping toward her.

“Please, Karina, don’t tell anyone,” you pleaded, your voice barely above a whisper. Your hands reached out, touching her arm lightly. “I know this is a lot, but we didn’t mean for it to happen like this.”

You grabbed Karina’s hand, the urgency to maintain privacy pressing upon you. With a gentle tug, you led her towards the door, placing a finger to your lips to signal the need for silence. Together, you tiptoed across the room, your whispers merging with the soft creaks of the floorboards, ensuring your voices remained low enough to evade Mark’s ears.

Karina’s mood shifted abruptly, leaving you momentarily disoriented as her shock morphed into a whirlwind of excitement. Her hands came together with a clap, her eyes widening with a childlike glee as she squealed, “How did this happen?”

You laughed, the sound mingling with a sigh of relief. Though you weren’t entirely sure if her excitement was genuine, it was certainly a welcome change from the suspicion and disappointment. “He just came to my room, and we started talking, and one thing led to another,” you mumbled, keeping your voice low, still half-wrapped in the sheet.

You let out a breath, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth as you recalled the unexpected turn of events. “It was unexpected, he sked if he could help with my assignment, so I said yeah. I took photos of him, and then he took my camera and started taking photos of me. He asked me to take my clothes off, and yeah… it just went off from there.”

Her eyes widened even further, and she gasped dramatically, leaning in closer. “His cock?”

You stifled a moan at the memory, nodding slightly at her unspoken question. “It’s so big.”

“And how was he?” Karina leaned in, her curiosity piqued as if she were gathering details for a juicy story.

“He was good, yeah, really good,” you confessed, your cheeks heating up as you remembered the intensity. “He definitely knows how to handle a girl. Clearly not his first time.” You paused, biting your lip as you considered how much to share. “And… he was holding back a bit because, you know, it was a lot for me at first. It took a few tries for him to even get fully inside of me.”

Karina’s eyes sparkled with a mix of astonishment and amusement. “So, are you guys, like, a thing now, or was this a one-time thing?”

You hesitated, the reality of the situation settling in. “I’m not sure yet. We haven’t really defined anything. It just happened so fast, and now I’m trying to wrap my head around it all.” A rush of boldness swept over you as you added, “But honestly, I wouldn’t mind fucking him more. He feels really good inside of me.”

Karina nodded, her expression turning a tad more serious. “Just be careful, okay? I mean, it’s exciting and all, but don’t get swept away without considering the consequences.”

You appreciated her concern, knowing it stemmed from a place of friendship and care. “I will,” you assured her, feeling a mixture of gratitude and caution. “Thanks, Karina. It means a lot to have you looking out for me.”

After reassuring Karina that you would catch up with her properly later, you offer her a smile as she heads downstairs to grab some breakfast. The moment she’s out of sight, you let out a deep sigh of relief and make your way back into the bedroom. The air feels heavy, saturated with the lingering tension of the earlier encounter.

Mark is still lying in bed, his eyes closed, seemingly lost in thought or perhaps trying to grasp the remnants of sleep. As you approach, he senses your presence and without opening his eyes, reaches out to pull you back into the warmth of his embrace. His skin is warm against yours, but it does little to soothe the chill of apprehension that has crept into your bones. Gently, he presses a soft kiss to your forehead, a silent reassurance amidst the storm of emotions.

“All okay?” he whispers, his voice low and concerned as he pulls you closer, seeking to envelop you in his security.

You nod against his chest, the rise and fall of his breathing steadying your own. “Yeah, I just told her not to tell anyone until we figure out what this is.” Your voice is a mix of determination and worry, echoing the complexity of your feelings.

He sighs, a sound that carries a mix of relief and something else—perhaps resignation or a touch of dread for the complications yet to come. “Okay, good,” he murmurs, his arms tightening around you as if to fortify you both against the challenges ahead.

As you lay there, tucked into Mark’s embrace, the room fills with a silence that speaks louder than words. The conversation with Karina, while out of earshot, hangs over you like a specter, its implications darkening the edges of this quiet moment. The reality of your situation, of the secret you now both carried, was weighty and complex. You wonder about the fragility of this newfound attraction you had for Mark, about how the truth, once disclosed, might alter everything.

His steady heartbeat against your ear is a constant reminder of the present, of the choices you’ve made, and the ones still looming ahead. Mark’s hand moves to stroke your hair gently, a soothing gesture that belies the anxiety that you both feel. “Stop worrying and just close your eyes, get some sleep,” he says soothingly, his voice a calming balm. “I got you.”

You press closer, feeling the heat of his naked body against yours, a vivid reminder of how you fucked earlier even after your bath, when you both surrendered to a series of intense, passionate rounds. “Okay,” you whisper back, letting the firmness of his embrace and the sincerity in his words soothe you towards sleep.

───────────────────────────────

The cool autumn air nipped at your skin as you made your way to the gymnasium for another away match. Despite the warmth and safety you had felt wrapped in Mark’s arms earlier that morning, reality beckoned. The game was due to start within the hour, and the atmosphere around the court was buzzing with anticipation.

As you approached, the scene unfolded vibrantly before you. The team was already on the court, running drills and warming up with a focused intensity. Nearby, your fellow cheerleaders were gathered, practicing their routines and cheering, their voices rising in synchronized chants that filled the air with excitement.

You slipped into your cheer uniform with a sense of resignation, feeling the familiar snugness of the sleek, blue and gold ensemble that hugged your figure and ended in a flared skirt. Although the outfit usually made you feel pretty and empowered, today it felt more like a costume you were obligated to wear. As you tied your hair up and secured your pompoms, it wasn’t giddiness that washed over you, but a sense of duty; you were dragging yourself through the motions, mustering the energy to perform your role despite not wanting to be there.

The game kicked off with high energy as you took your place on the sidelines. From here, you had a clear view of both the game and the entrance. You noticed Jeno frequently glancing towards the door with an expression of mixed anticipation and dread. When his father finally appeared, taking a seat in the stands with a stern posture and an unyielding gaze, you saw Jeno’s demeanor change instantly. His movements on the court became forceful, overly aggressive as if each pass and shot were a desperate plea for approval.

“Jeno seems really tense today, doesn’t he?” Karina leaned over and whispered to you as she noticed his aggressive gameplay.

“Yeah, his dad just showed up,” you replied, nodding towards the imposing figure in the stands.

Jeno’s father was a strict, uptight man with sharp features that seemed permanently etched into a frown. His presence was commanding, and his eyes rarely showed emotion, giving him a cold, intimidating aura. You had seen him a few times before but had always avoided interaction; his severe demeanor and the tension that followed him were enough to keep you at a distance.

As the game unfolded, Jeno and Mark, despite the clear tension and their notably strained relationship, surprisingly found a rhythm together on the court. Their coordinated movements and strategic plays became increasingly effective, slowly winning over the crowd.

Donghyuck’s voice boomed over the speakers, narrating the match with enthusiasm, “And what a play by the brothers! Despite the family drama we’ve all heard about, Mark and Jeno are turning up the heat on the court!”

Mark executed a swift, strategic pass to Jeno, aiming to capitalize on a brief opening in the opposing team’s defense. However, under the weight of his father’s intense scrutiny and the mounting pressure, Jeno fumbled the catch. The ball slipped through his fingers, rolling off to be intercepted by a player from the opposing team. This mistake quickly turned into a counterattack, resulting in the opposing team scoring a crucial point. The crowd’s reaction was immediate—murmurs of disappointment and frustration filled the air, mirroring the dismay on Jeno’s face as he glanced apologetically towards Mark. 

His voice cut sharply through the commotion of the crowd, not with generic cheers but with pointed, critical commands. “Jeno, focus! Stop getting distracted!” he barked, loud enough for not just Jeno but everyone nearby to hear. His words, filled with frustration and command, resonated across the court, causing some of the other spectators to shift uncomfortably in their seats. The intense scrutiny and public criticism only added to the tense atmosphere, underlining the challenging dynamics that Jeno was grappling with during the game.

“Tempers are really heating up on the court!” Donghyuck observed, his tone reflecting the palpable tension filling the gym. “It’s clear there’s a lot more at stake here than just points and plays.”

The tension reached a boiling point when an opposing player fouled Jeno aggressively. Mark instinctively stepped in, his reaction quick and protective. The situation quickly spiraled into a physical altercation, with teammates and referees rushing to intervene. The crowd gasped and murmured as the players were pulled apart, the underlying familial pressures and frustrations manifesting in the chaos on the court.

After the game, as the crowd began to disperse, you saw Jeno’s father approach him, his voice stern as he critiqued Jeno for his “lack of control” on the court. His cold dismissal of his son’s efforts was painful to witness, and as you watched, your understanding of the toxic dynamics within their family deepened.

Feeling a profound sympathy for Mark, who had tried to protect his brother despite the personal cost, you decided to approach him. Mark was sitting on the bench, nursing a bruise that had formed on his arm and a visible injury on his face. You walked over cautiously, your approach gentle, trying to convey your concern without overwhelming him.

“Hey, that was some game,” you started, your tone deliberately light but tinged with genuine concern at his injuries.

He glanced up, managing a weak smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s nothing serious. Just a scratch,” he murmured, referring to the bruising that was starting to bloom along his arm and face.

“Do you wanna come with me?” he asked suddenly, his voice low as he stood up stiffly from the bench.

“Where?” you replied, curious about his sudden urge to escape.

“I don’t know where. I just need to get away from here,” he confessed, his gaze drifting towards the direction to the locker room, a quiet spot away from the remaining spectators.

Following his lead, the door shut behind you with a definitive thud, sealing off the outside world. Mark turned to you, his expression a mix of vulnerability and need. Without a word, he stepped closer, reducing the space between you. His gaze locked onto yours for a brief moment, then his hands found the small of your back, pulling you firmly against him. In one swift, fluid motion, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was hard and urgent, his mouth moving against yours with a force that spoke of deep desperation. 

Mark’s hands moved to your waist, his grip both firm and gentle. He lifted you slightly, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist. The closeness intensified, your bodies pressing together in a way that felt both thrilling and dangerous. He began to sit down on a nearby bench, pulling you even closer, but a sudden rush of awareness made you pull back. Shaking your head, you tried to slide off his lap, realizing the inevitable outcome—a quick, intense sexual encounter with him, the thought of his cock sliding into you making you pause. You were both intensely horny, and the risk of being caught only added to the tension.

Mark, sensing your hesitation, tightened his grip, his fingers digging into your skin with a silent plea. He leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a firm, urgent kiss that conveyed his desire clearly. As he pulled back slightly, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your lips as he whispered, “Stay.” The firmness of his erection pressed against you, a clear and insistent signal of his arousal. Overwhelmed by the intensity of his need, and the undeniable physical connection sparking between you, your resolve melted away. You let out a soft sigh of relief and settled back down onto him, no longer able to resist the compelling force of his touch. The heat of his body enveloped you, driving away any lingering doubts as you both succumbed to the thrilling urgency of the moment.

At his gentle coaxing, you had moved closer, positioning yourself to straddle his lap while being mindful of his injuries. As you settled onto him, his hands rested lightly on your hips, guiding you down with care. The smile he gave you was tender, almost grateful, and you couldn’t help but return it with a sweet, somewhat mischievous grin, secretly pleased that he had convinced you to sit so close. The proximity was immediate and electric; the contact sparked a palpable energy that coursed through you both, your heartbeat syncing with his in a rhythm that felt as natural as breathing.

Your gaze flickers briefly toward the first aid kit positioned on a nearby bench. Reaching for the first aid kit, you felt the shift in his breathing as you moved, his chest rising more sharply against yours. “You don’t have to,” he murmured, his hands sliding to your lower back, holding you securely, almost as if he was afraid you’d pull away.

“It’s okay. I want to take care of you,” you responded, your voice barely above a whisper as you opened the kit and began to extract the necessary supplies. You turned back to face him, meeting his gaze. There was a warmth there, inviting and deep, pulling you in. Slowly, deliberately, you leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. It was a gentle brush, tender but laden with all the emotions stirring between you.

Mark responded instinctively, his lips parting slightly under yours as one of his hands moved to cradle the back of your neck, guiding the kiss into something less cautious, more open. You could feel the roughness of his palm, a stark contrast to the softness of the kiss. His other hand traveled up, tracing the line of your spine through the fabric of your uniform, sending shivers of anticipation skittering down your back.

The air was charged as you carefully wrapped the bandage around his arm, the close proximity intensifying every subtle touch. Each circle of the bandage over his skin brought your fingers grazing against him, feeling the warmth of his body and the tension in his muscles responding to your care. His sharp intake of breath when the bandage pulled slightly too tight made you pause.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, your voice a soft whisper laden with concern, noticing his wince.

He shook his head gently, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of pain and a deeper, more intense longing. “It’s okay, not your fault.” He reassured you, his voice rough, edged with a raw emotion that sent shivers down your spine. His hands then moved from your hips, gliding up to your thighs, his touch deliberate and increasingly bold, pressing you closer against him.

Mark’s hands moved with purpose as he slid them under your skirt, his fingers brushing against the soft skin of your thighs. He pressed and kneaded your flesh with a fervent urgency, each movement deliberate and intense. His touch was skilled, confident as he explored, drawing you in tightly against him. Your bodies pressed closer, nearly fusing as his hands continued their assertive dance over your skin, heightening the physical connection between you.

The locker room was filled with the sound of your heavy, mingled breaths, punctuated by the subtle rustling of fabric as his hands explored further. The growing heat between you was palpable, Mark’s arousal pressing firmly against you, signaling his desire. A soft giggle escaped your lips, smothered by his in a kiss that was both hungry and profound.

“Baby… why don’t you ride my cock?” he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with unchecked desire, each word vibrating through you.

You pulled back slightly, your cheeks flushed with a mix of desire and bashfulness. “In here? People are gonna walk in on us and see us,” you whispered back, the thrill of being caught adding a sharp edge to your arousal.

With a nonchalant shrug and a dark, intense look in his eyes, he repeated, “I don’t mind,” his voice deep and seductive. It was an offer of sheer recklessness, and as you gazed into his eyes, you felt a daring part of yourself responding with equal fervor.

“I can’t believe you still have the energy, especially after this match.” You teased, your breath hot against his lips, 

Mark, feeling your hesitation, intensified his grip, his hands firm on your hips as he pulled you closer. He kissed you deeply, his lips urgent against yours, effectively silencing any lingering doubts. As he broke the kiss, his face stayed close, his breath mingling with yours. “I’ll always have time for you,” he whispered huskily, his voice thick with desire. His hands roamed assertively over your body, tracing the curve of your spine, then sliding forward to the edge of your cheer uniform. His touch was deliberate, igniting sparks of arousal that radiated through your core. The hardness pressing against you was impossible to ignore, and his movements suggested he was more than ready to continue despite the day’s exertions. 

As the heat between you intensified, you suddenly felt overwhelmed. Despite Mark’s firm grip, you managed to slide off his lap, your cheeks burning with a mix of arousal and embarrassment. He sighed deeply, a low moan escaping him as he leaned back, his head tipping upwards and his eyes closing in frustration.

“I—we should probably head back to the motel,” you stammered, your words tumbling out in a rush. “There’s the curfew, and…” Your voice trailed off, not quite sure how to navigate the sudden shift in atmosphere.

Mark opened his eyes and looked at you, a flash of understanding crossing his features before he sighed again, resigning himself to the reality of the situation. He stood up, the lines of his body tense yet controlled. Moving closer, he wrapped an arm securely around you, his touch now protective rather than persuasive. “Let’s go then,” he said, his tone gentle. 

───────────────────────────────

As Mark draped his arm around your shoulders, the warmth of his touch contrasted with the cool air of the nearly empty gymnasium. The game was over, but the echo of bouncing basketballs still lingered as you both made your way towards the motel. Despite the intense moments in the locker room where Mark had coaxed and almost persuaded you to cross the line, you hadn’t ended up having sex. Yet, that didn’t diminish his touchy, affectionate nature that enveloped you now.

His lips found yours again, drawing a giggle from you as his kisses landed with a mix of playfulness and passion. He stopped walking, right in the middle of the gymnasium, and his hands cupped your face as he kissed you deeply, passionately. You responded without hesitation, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to pull him closer, sinking into the warmth of his embrace, feeling the firmness of his body against yours.

But as the heat between you intensified, reality nudged at your consciousness. You were literally in public, and the risk of being seen was too great. Reluctantly, you pulled away with a jolt, gasping for air. Your breath came in heavy, uneven bursts as you whispered, almost fearfully, “People will see us.”

Mark smiled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He tightened his grip around your waist, pulling you flush against him, his body a solid barrier against any lingering hesitation. “Look around, no one’s here,” he murmured against your ear, his voice a soothing whisper that steadied your racing heart. His reassurance, soft and certain, drew you back into his gravitational pull.

He kissed your lips again, softer this time, a tender brush that promised more but ended too soon, pulling back just enough to let you catch your breath yet not enough to let you retreat. “See? It’s just me and you here,” he reassured you with a gentle smile.

“Just me and you,” you repeated, your voice a whisper as you leaned in closer, your forehead resting against his.

“Good girl,” he affirmed softly, his breath warm against your skin, his approval sending a shiver down your spine.

Emboldened, you closed the small distance, pressing your lips to his in a kiss filled with all the pent-up desire of the evening. He chuckled, a low sound that vibrated through you, and met your desperation with equal fervour, his kiss deepening, hands roaming over your back as if memorising every curve.

A cough shattered the intimate atmosphere, snapping your heads towards the sound. The sudden intrusion spiked anxiety through your veins, a feeling that only intensified as you saw who was watching you with a judgmental yet amused expression: Lee Taeyong, Jeno and Mark’s father.

“Let’s go,” Mark muttered tersely. He didn’t acknowledge his father, didn’t meet his eyes. It was as if Taeyong were invisible to him, a poignant reversal of how Taeyong had always treated Mark—as if he never existed in his heart, never seen as his son.

Mark gripped your hand, his touch firm, and began to walk in the opposite direction, but you froze when Taeyong’s rough, sneering voice cut through the tension.

“Jumping from one Lee to the next, aren’t we? I never took you for a whore, Y/N.” He said, his voice laden with a contemptuous snicker that echoed through the empty gym. His eyes scanned you with a cold, scrutinizing look that felt like an overt accusation of your character.

Mark’s response was immediate; his knuckles whitened as he balled his hands into fists, the muscles in his jaw twitching as he fought the urge to confront his father physically. Yet, he managed to maintain a semblance of calm, drawing in deep breaths to steady himself.

“Don’t talk to her like that,” Mark’s voice was low, dangerously controlled. “Don’t even look at her. You have no right to judge, not after everything. Watch it, Taeyong.”

The intensity in Mark’s voice was unmistakable, a clear warning laced with years of pent-up frustration and anger. His stance was protective, placing himself subtly between you and his father, his body language declaring that he wouldn’t tolerate any more insults.

Grabbing your hand, he pulled you away firmly, his steps quick and decisive as he led you towards the exit. “Let’s get out of here,” he murmured, his voice still tense but softer now, directed only at you. As you walked away, the weight of his father’s words lingered, but Mark’s defense reassured you, his loyalty clear and unwavering in the face of his father’s provocation.

The cold air hit your faces as you stepped outside, the gym’s heavy atmosphere replaced by the night’s sharp chill. Your mind was racing, anxiety swirling within as the reality of Taeyong’s potential backlash began to set in. It was undeniable—Taeyong knowing about you and Mark could never be good. You feared he would use this revelation against you, perhaps even as a weapon in some twisted game of control.

As you glanced at Mark, you saw the changes in him: his usually expressive eyes were now stormy and distant, his jaw set in a hard line. The grip he had on your hand tightened, not painfully, but with a protective intensity that was both comforting and slightly alarming. He was silent as you walked, each step seeming to take him further into his own turbulent thoughts.

The silence between you stretched, filled only with the echo of your footsteps and the distant hum of the city around you. The tension from the confrontation hung heavily, a foreboding shadow that neither of you could shake off.

As you reached the car, Mark broke the heavy silence, his voice low and tinged with regret. “I’m sorry you had to hear that,” he said, his expression somber. “Don’t listen to him, okay? Not a word he says.”

“It’s not your fault,” you replied softly, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze, trying to ease the weight of the situation he carried.

Mark shook his head slightly, a determined edge to his voice as he looked you directly in the eyes. “No, but don’t believe a word that idiot says. It’s all just noise.” His hand reached up to gently brush a stray lock of hair from your face, a protective gesture that softened his stern expression.

“I know,” you murmured, feeling the solidarity between you strengthening despite the shadows of the night’s events.

As you drove through the quiet streets, a gnawing fear took hold. You found yourself praying that Taeyong wouldn’t escalate things further, especially not involving Jeno. The uncertainty of what lay ahead left you uneasy, the comfort of Mark’s presence a small solace against the potential storm that might be brewing.

───────────────────────────────

taglist — @keelbeel @d3nbl4d3 @hyuckkklee @ahgasezennie @second-floors @lovetaroandtaemin @steadyparkjisungbookishspy @xuyiyang @remgeolli @toroufriteh

author’s note — hiiii i hope you enjoyed :) make sure to leave a follow, a like, an ask or just interact or lmk what you thought!!