#i kind of don’t want to post my face anywhere for a bit

[hanzajesthanza]

maybe i am ill because… i enjoyed the trailer, but seeing all of the hype and controversy has increased my urge to isolate myself and cease posting even more…

i feel like the worst witcher commentator because just seeing all of the clamour has just frightened me away, when i should be amped to join the party. seeing the whole internet suddenly resound with opinion has made me want to swallow any i might have had… so i apologize for my bouts of asocial behavior, i have no cure… i hope it passes soon… but i kind of want to just go bury myself in a hole now…

[uzurakis]

can u do how jjk boys (include megumi PLEASE) would react to you getting all pretty and dolled up to go out (and u just look soooooooooo good)

TOO PRETTY TO BE TRUE!

featuring: fushiguro megumi. gojo satoru. geto suguru. nanami kento. itadori yuuji.

n. your wish is my command nonnie, and ya don’t need to say megs cause i’ll ALWAYS include him in every shit that i write (he comes in one package okay) and.. I WENT OVERBOARD WRITING THIS HELPLEP i usually limit to 4 charas every post but yours made my creative space going and I HAD TO DO 5.. so thank you for that. i looooveee the idea mwah mwah i hope the writing makes justice for your cute hc <3

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI. you were running late; a girl's usual problem before a date. your hands fumbled with the clasp of your earrings, and shit, you cursed softly under your breath. outside, you knew your boyfriend was waiting patiently, or so you hoped. the idea of keeping him waiting made you anxious, but you wanted everything to be perfect.

just as you finished adjusting your hair, you heard the front door creak open. fushiguro’s soft footsteps echoed through the hallway, and you felt a twinge of panic. he never liked to intrude, but his curiosity had gotten the best of him. "hey, what’s taking so long?" you heard him mutter.

you turned around just as he reached the doorway to your room. his eyes widened, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. fushiguro's usual stoic expression melted into one of pure surprise. his cheeks turned a delicate shade of pink, and his mouth opened slightly, but no words came out.

"is everything okay?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady despite the sudden flutter in your chest.

megumi blinked, finally finding his voice. "a-ah, yeah, everything’s fine," his eyes remained locked on the ground while he stammered. how in the hell did this place get so hot? he thought to himself as he fiddled with his shirt collar.

"you look… um, really pretty."

"no, i mean, don't get me wrong though! you're al-"

you blushed at his earnestness, but you also smiled. "you too, gumi."

the guy scratched the back of his neck awkwardly but managed a small smile in return. "sorry i kinda barged in,” gently, he reached his hand to you and said, “next time, take all the time you need. i’ll wait.”

GOJO SATORU. "well, well, look at you," someone called out, sauntering over with an exaggerated attitude. "you really went all out for our little date, huh?"

you couldn't help but smile as you rolled your eyes. "aand you didn't even bother to dress up," you teased back, gesturing to his usual attire. “so lame for the gojo satoru, boo-hoo.”

"why would i need to dress up when i have the most gorgeous person in the world right here?" the guy stepped closer, taking your hand and spinning you around playfully. "you look soo good, i kind of want to take you home right now. can’t have everyone else stealing glances at my date."

a giggle managed to escape your lips, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. "you're ridiculous, toru," shaking your head at him.

then he leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, one that could captivate a soul. "but seriously, you look amazing. i'm the luckiest guy here."

you swatted at his arm playfully, but your heart swelled from his words. "alright, mr. smooth talker, where are we going?"

gojo straightened up, still holding your hand. "anywhere you want, as long as i get to show you off. but maybe we’ll head home a bit early, just in case," and of course, he didn’t forget to wink.

ITADORI YUUJI. a knock on your door sent a jolt of excitement through you. you had taken extra time to get ready for your date with itadori tonight in the hopes of surprising him. he was standing there with an enormous smile on his face as you opened the door.

“bless me!” his pink eyes widened with admiration. “you look beautiful as always, baby.”

your cheeks heated beneath his surprising compliment. "nah, baby, that’s too much."

his enthusiasm contagious, he practically bounced on his toes. “i’m serious! you’re soo pretty that i might die from your prettiness—is that an actual word—but look at me, i'm serious!”

as you stepped outside, itadori kept showering you with compliments. "that outfit is perfect on you. and your hair! you’re always cute, but.. you really shine tonight."

“you’re too sweet, yuu,”

"i mean it! you deserve to hear it every day baby!”

NANAMI KENTO. you were putting the finishing touches on your makeup when you heard a firm knock at the door. taking a deep breath, you walked over and opened it to find nanami standing there, his usual composed demeanor softened by a warm smile.

his eyes swept over you, taking in every detail. "you look beautiful, sweetheart." he said simply, sincere and direct. the compliment made your heart skip a beat.

"thank you, kento," goddamn, a gentleman is always a gentleman.

he stepped closer, his gaze never leaving yours. "i appreciate the effort you put into this. it means a lot to me." his smile widened just a fraction, but the warmth in his eyes spoke more than his words could.

you smiled back, touched by his straightforwardness. "it’s because i’m excited to spend time with you."

nanami nodded, offering his hand. "shall we go?"

you sensed serenity and joy as soon as you held his hand. "i’m glad you liked it," you said softly as you both made your way down the street.

GETO SUGURU. “fucking hell, you look so pretty,” he swore under his breath, emerald orbs wide as he took in your appearance. “too pretty to be true.”

“hmm, you think so, suguru?” a little teasing might not hurt, right? his usually calm and composed expression shifting to one of pure astonishment the moment he saw you. and there it is again, his usual up-to-no-good grin.

he stepped closer, his gaze intense and cocky with that smile of his. “oh, you’re mine,” he declared, voice firm yet filled with a protective tenderness. “definitely mine.”

your heart skipped a beat at his sudden possessiveness, yet you couldn't help but feel a rush of delight at his words. “i’m yours,” you confirmed softly, tippy toeing to peck his cheeks.

he pulled your waist gently into his hook, grip both protective and warm. “i just… i don’t want anyone else looking at you like this,” the words were murmured, his lips brushing against your hair. “you’re too beautiful.”

you leaned into him, feeling safe and cherished in his embrace. “i only want you to look at me like this, suguru.”

he smiled, a rare and genuine expression that lit up his face. “good. because i’m not letting you go.” he pulled back slightly to look into your eyes. “let’s go, princess."

@uzurakis

[miaoua3]

Scoups spicy headcanons

Pairing: scoups x f!reader

Warnings: sex, mentions of oral, just nasty piece of work tbh lmao, MINORS DNI

Kind of a continuation of my tiktok post

Note:…i need to get dicked down, its been too long…anyway enjoy this

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

•his kisses are always soo deep, its just that pace that changes- when he’s desperate, his kisses become fast and filled with urge and need, when he wants to savour both you and the moment, he takes his time

•the type to spread his arms on the back rest of the couch while you sit on his lap and make out with him, will not touch you until you start whining and pleading of him to touch you

•loooves leaving hickeys. not only on your neck, but on your chest, your hips, your thighs and sometimes even your ass cheeks (in a shape of a little heart❤️)

•also likes it when you leave hickeys on him too, it shows to others that you both belong to somebody, except he doesn’t like to hide his while you literally spend tons of time and makeup trying to cover his piece of work

•two words: size kink. nothing gets him going quite like watching and comparing how much bigger he is compared to you, how his big hands can easily wrap themselves around your neck, your hands, your hips, anywhere really

•likes to just let his hand rest on your neck while kissing. not outright choking, but just…lets you feel the heavy weight of it on your thin neck

•a service dom, idk how people came to think that coups is this mean dom who just enjoys inflicting pain on you, like nuh-uh, this man literally lives to serve you, will listen to everything you got to say, if you say ‘a little more of this, a little bit less of that’ consider it already done. your pleasure is his first priority

•which brings me to- he won’t fuck you until you have cumed on his fingers (and/or face) at least two times.

•the mirror that’s facing your bed🤝him, loves nothing more than to fuck you from behind in front of the said mirror, loves just looking at your dazed look, how hard you try to keep your balance, how his hand looks around your neck

•very talkative in bed, from asking if you’re still okay to asking you things like “look at you, so pretty. who’s my pretty girl? hm? is this all for me baby? so wet, just for me? can you give me another one? cmon, my pretty girl, just one more, cum on my dick one more time, i know you can do it” NCHSIDBSIADBAI

•praise kink>>>>>>, idk who convinced yall that he would like degrading you, bro literally LOVES you, he has no reason to talk to you like that, he’s always just like “you’re doing so good, baby, taking this dick. fuck, so good, you’re taking me so well, can you take on more? of course you can, my girl can always take on more, cmon, that’s it” (currently manifesting this man in my life🙏)

•loooves it when you scratch his back unconsciously, just likes to look at it the next morning, wears it like a gold medal

•oh i just know he has a big dick, don’t even try to convince me otherwise, its both long and girthy, it’s always so overwhelming having him inside your pussy

•i always say- having a small dick is no excuse for being a bad partner, the universe gave you 10 fingers, a mouth and a lot of imagination. if you still can’t figure out how to please your partner, then it’s a you problem….lets just say cheol has no problems-with his size, his fingers skills, his tongue nor his imagination, he’s such a good lover, he will literally make you see stars

•speaking of-he asks you to sit on his face and literally to almost suffocate him at least two times a week. he just loves feeling your weight on his face, your smell surrounding him, you looking down on him while he’s living every man’s dream

•loves holding hands while in a missionary, it just makes the atmosphere that much more intimate and romantic, always intertwines your fingers and he finds that so…comforting

•now, he doesn’t enjoy inflicting pain on you (he enjoys leaving a good spank and a little bit of choking), that much is clear, but he still likes seeing you with tears down your cheeks from the immense pleasure he’s bringing you

•is the king of body worshipping. on the nights where he’s feeling extremely loving, first, he takes off your clothes slowly, then he kisses you for a few moments, and then he starts leaving kisses everywhere-from your lips, across your jaw, on your neck, going down to your chest, a few ticklish kisses on your stomach, leaving a few teasing kisses on your clit, looking up while kissing your thighs, on the scars on your knee, all the way down to your ankle. and then the same route upwards, all while whispering soft words of praise to you

•if you ever thought that this man is anything other than an ass man, you are delusional. from spanking you, fucking you from behind, to literally kissing your cheeks better after a few particularly hard spanks and leaving hickeys on it, rubbing it gently in comforting way with a comforting hand, there isn’t a way this man hasn’t interacted with your behind lol

•loves to pull on your hair lightly during the slow make out sessions, but also enjoys it when you pull on his hair while he’s laying between your legs, eating you out as if you were his last meal

•loves how he can just pick you up and fuck you against any surface available, it gets him so turned on knowing that he can carry you so easily and manhandle you into any position he wants you in

•low-key has a breeding kink, he loves watching his cum leak out of you, and stuffing it back in, knowing that he could impregnate you any time he comes inside, it’s always so thrilling to him (plus he really want to start a family with you)

•he’s the aftercare KING, sometimes he spends more time talking you down from the height, cuddling you, cleaning you, kissing you and letting you know how much he loves you than he spend on the sex itself, he’s a natural caretaker so he enjoys taking care of your body and your mind after your sexy escapades

in conclusion: SCOUPS PLEASE I CAN TREAT YOU SO WELL JUST GIVE ME A CHANCE PLS BABY

[lucyandthepen]

salted caramel | lmh ( m )

you hadn’t been aware that mark’s jealousy followed the rules of baseball — three strikes, and he snaps?

read the first part here!

pairing: barista!bf!mark x reader verse: college!au rating: r warnings&tags: unprotected sex, mentions of creampies (although not an actual one), hickeys, possessiveness and jealousy, exhibitionism, sort of phone sex in conjunction with said exhibitionism, oral (m!receiving), mark has an understated but unending obsession with mc’s stomach, tummy bulges, we always love an implicit bigdick!mark, donghyuck is kind of a little shit and basically he has to cross a few lines for this “plot” to get to where it gets word count: 20.3k

a/n: this is a bit rushed and panicked because I basically wrote it in a feverish 2.5ish days… i’m so sorry that the pacing might be a little off, especially since I can never tell if it’s actually too fast or not. this is also unedited and unbeta’d but oh well because i never edit my stuff before posting and just re-edit when I re-read! regardless, i hope it’s something that you can enjoy, and i couldn’t pick between sweetest bf ever!mark and hottest mf ever!mark, so i guess you get a little bit of both!

if you liked it, please consider reblogging to support (especially because this may get flagged for mature content)!

You should have noticed it the first time, but in your overall defense, you find most things that you take note of about Mark Lee to be more on the highly positive and greatly endearing side — or, maybe, you just have a tendency to paint him in that kind of light.

You can’t really help it; he’s still got that halfway shy, softly adoring look in his eyes whenever he sees you, which is more often now than ever before, and you just can’t do anything but reciprocate, if only to see his eyes grow a little brighter. You wonder if Mark’s aware that if this were a Shakespearean scenario, you’d easily fall on your sword for him without question, for as long as he asked, but you don’t think there’s any pressing need to remind him — not with the way you spend most of your free time figuring out ways to be with him. You’re certain he should know, what with the fact that every time he looks at you, even just a glimpse, your gaze is always on him, ready to make eye contact whenever he turns his head — something he often acknowledges with one of those signature blushes that spread like wildfire across his cheeks, up to the tips of his ears.

It also should be unmistakably clear that you’re head over heels for him, given how at least once a week, he’s got his face buried between your legs in an attempt to hear the thing he wants you to say the most (see: his name, in varying pitches and decibels) — but if he doesn’t notice then, you can’t hold it against him; Mark’s mouth is so attentive that you doubt his mind is anywhere else apart from what inch of you his tongue is going to meet next in that moment. At least, that much is true for you.

He should at least know, what with you waiting for his classes to end so you can walk to Starbucks for his afternoon shift; you even race the twenty-minute distance to the Department of Mathematics, still holding your European Renaissance History textbook from your last lecture, just to make sure you’re there right as he gets out — a fact he has to know is an act of devotion, considering how often he finds you heaving for air and leaning your back against the brick wall outside the Accounting 150 Lab. Even his professor knows you as Mark Lee’s admirer, which is all well and good, but if you had the breath to spare, you’d correct his terminology for accuracy. Girlfriend. You’re Mark Lee’s girlfriend.

It’s a fact you don’t mind reminding him of but that you actually have to do quite often, because when you call Mark the appropriate counterpart — boyfriend — his eyes still widen, like he’s hearing it for the first time. It’s cute, just like everything else about him. You just have to wonder, at times, if he doesn’t believe you.

Whatever. It doesn’t matter; you’ll just keep telling him.

You don’t have any classes with Mark this semester, which is a shame, considering your favorite pastime over the last few months had just been to stare at his side profile and wish he’d look over so you could kiss him, but the fact that you spend almost every day with him now, using that time to remind him of how much you want to kiss him and actually getting it to do it right then and there, pretty much more than makes up for your previous schedule of daydreaming.

However, hanging out with him doesn’t always mean you’re just with him; you came to learn this after the first week of the new semester, and you’ve now gotten used to the fact that with Mark Lee sometimes comes his band of tall, often loud friends.

The loudest by far is Lee Donghyuck, the mysterious figure last semester that you’d only known by one syllable, now easily recognizable (and no longer enigmatic by any means to you) by his booming voice and even more demanding personality. He’s supremely outgoing, a trait you can’t say you mind, but there’s an interesting contrast between Mark, who tends to say things after carefully considering his ideas, and Donghyuck, who seems to just burst out in fits of impulsive rambling that often leads to some kind of semi-structured debate. It kind of gives you whiplash, in a funny, slightly perplexing way.

The whole friend group likes to meet up at Starbucks while Mark is on his shift, and now that they’ve come to know you as that girl Mark didn’t teach a single thing in College Algebra to but still somehow got lucky with (something you’ve wasted immense efforts into correcting but have ultimately failed to do so), you now find yourself sitting with them, all somehow waiting for who appears to be the nucleus of this group to stop taking coffee orders and hang up his (cute, but you’re the only one that thinks so, actually) green apron.

Again, you don’t mind it; new people aren’t an issue to you, and you’re also interested in finding out more about Mark through those closest to him. You get to see the few ways they’re alike in contrast to the staggering number of things that make them amusingly different from one another. Despite the broad spectrum of their intersecting interests, you’ve come to learn, through the conversations you’ve had to sit through over the last month, that they have varying opinions on said interests. For instance, you know they’re all into video games, Japanese manga, and long-winding fantasy movies, but every conversation takes flight the moment there’s even a spark of dissent from one person — and the source, usually (and quite unfortunately), is Lee Donghyuck himself.

Today is no exception.

“Dude, you’re crazy,” Zhong Chenle practically seethes. Whether by sheer coincidence or actual desire, he’s the one who most often finds himself staring Donghyuck down, trying to bend the latter’s will into admitting defeat. Donghyuck, on the other hand, has mastered the art of looking supremely unperturbed, especially when Chenle is in the heat of his rage. “The ninth was the worst, hands down.”

“Art and rendering were so solid.” Donghyuck raises a finger, and you’re not sure if it’s to start off a list or to shut Chenle up. You don’t want to ask, anyway, too busy finding amusement in the shifting expressions of despair, rage, anguish, and murderous intent on the latter’s face to speak up. You presume that’s why everyone else isn’t stopping them — or maybe they’re just preparing their own defenses and points to raise. “Intuitive combat and flawless combo chains. The fucking open world? Which other installment in the franchise offers that much depth in the gameplay?”

“Depth? Do you even hear yourself right now?” Chenle grips his head so tightly that when he pulls his hands away, there are actual red marks across his forehead and temple, and his bangs are askew. “What kind of depth comes from cloned movesets? The character designs are so stupidly traditional too. And—”

“There’s a unique kind of beauty in familiarity.”

“The open world was a disaster,” Chenle plows on. “It was so empty, and the map was the farthest thing from intuitive. It’s quite literally the worst thing KOEI has ever done. That’s exactly why they went back to the limited map strategy in later installments. Even the spin-offs.”

“I thought the grappling and ambush systems were pretty intuitive. Ingenious, even.”

It’s a singularly amusing sight — Chenle is one insult to his pride away from imploding, and Donghyuck is just checking the dirt under his nails like he’s waiting in line to take his school ID photo. Park Jisung, one of the quieter ones in the bunch, tries to diffuse the tension by clearing his throat and going ‘I actually really liked the Age Of Calamity Zelda one they released with all the different campaigns,’ but that just goes unnoticed by either party.

“You once failed an ambush play just because you were stuck behind a wall you couldn’t scale. Don’t say shit about the ambush and grappling mechanics.”

“Unlike some people sitting around this table, I learn from my mistakes. That’s also probably why some people — not naming names — just can’t appreciate the artistic beauty that is Dynasty Warriors 9.”

Donghyuck doesn’t even look up from his cuticles when Chenle explodes.

“You’re fucking impossible!”

“Can you guys relax?” Lee Jeno, who had somehow miraculously found the space and silence in the breaths between the entire argument to doze off, opens one eye, only slightly irate. “You’re making a scene over a dead game franchise.”

“It’s not dead; they’re on hiatus,” both Chenle and Donghyuck chime in together, apparently finding a moment of unique solidarity to shoot Jeno down before going back to glaring daggers at each other. Jeno shrugs, gives everyone else at the table an I tried kind of exasperated expression, and settles back into his seat, the one eye already closing before he’s fully folded his arms across his chest.

Your eyes wander away from the group over to the counter. You’re thankful for the fact that most of the time, you just get invited to share a table with them without necessarily being trapped in the middle of a conversation — especially one as heated as the one Chenle is prolonging while jabbing his finger accusingly at Donghyuck, as if he’s trying to pin a crime on the latter instead of just explaining why Donghyuck’s opinion is ‘borne of ignorance.’ When they’re all caught up in their business like this, you end up being able to revel in your more or less unobstructed view of Mark behind the barista’s station, where he’s busy piping an extra helping of whipped cream on top of a strawberry frappuccino for a kid that’s already jumping up and down next to the pick-up station.

The biting winter had already given way to the first signs of spring, and the Starbucks Mark works at has a supremely effective central heating system that allows people to shed their coats. This works in your favor, considering Mark wears nothing but a button-up shirt over his apron while he works, and he’s got this habit of rolling up his sleeves so they don’t catch any stains. You’re pretty sure he has a second motive, though; surely, he’s aware of how the view of his arms, muscles tightening under his skin whenever he even lightly grips something, drives you crazy. You’d bet a month’s allowance he’s doing it on purpose so that you start entertaining the thought of yelling at everyone in the branch to fuck off so you can grab him by the front of his stupid shirt so you can kiss his stupid face. Or ride it.

And for some inexplicable reason, he still has the audacity to act like there’s nothing amiss. When he looks up at you right after pushing the frappuccino towards the little girl, his eyes still brighten, almost innocent in their gaze, the corners of his lips turning up surreptitiously, hiding the smile he seems to save for only you from everyone else in the room.

You smile back, but when he turns away to take someone’s order, you let out a heavy sigh and take a long sip of your vanilla sweet cream cold brew until you start reaching the last dregs of it under the ice. Your brain pretty much cries out in protest, but you know it deserves as much as a mental cold shower for entertaining the thought of asking him to bend you over the counter at five-thirty in the afternoon in a Starbucks.

Stupid Mark. Stupid brain. Stupid fucking people in the room.

The warm breath in your ear alerts you to a slowly approaching presence, but you don’t have the reflexes to turn back to its source before it starts talking.

“Got anything to add to either of our cases, ___________?”

“What?” Your palm comes up to rub your ear as Donghyuck pulls away, laughing lightly. You’re sucked back into the foreground of the conversation, but you’re just as lost now as you had been before you started tuning them out in favor of your lust. “Uh — no. Sorry. To be honest, I know nothing about… sorry, what were you guys talking about again?”

“See, that’s how normal people act,” Jeno grumbles, both his eyes flying open this time. “Instead of hosting a presidential debate about Dynasty Warriors.”

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that.” You’re quick to add, and Jeno looks mildly amused at your attempt to still mollify the rest of the group. “I’m sure I would have liked it. If, you know, I actually had been introduced to it at any point in my life.”

“And if you had, I’m sure you’d have the taste to assert alongside me that the seventh installment was revolutionary,” Chenle sniffs, but he’s looking more pointedly at Donghyuck, who’s still ignoring him, save for the fact that he’s now looking at you instead of at his nails (which doesn’t feel like such a great upgrade).

“Nah, she’d be on my side. ___________ looks like she’d appreciate a good, scenic open world and grappling system. Right?”

“Uh…” you say smartly.

“Man, shut up.” Chenle throws his hands in the air before he stands up, his chair scraping against the floor as he pushes it back with astounding force. “Got me so pissed off I need to pee now.”

You have no idea what the correlation is between getting annoyed and needing to use the bathroom, but even if you wanted to bring up your doubts — which you don’t — Chenle is long gone before you can get your thoughts together. It’s only when he’s out of earshot that Donghyuck leans in, almost conspiratorially, to whisper to you again.

“Actually, I think the ninth sucks too. But isn’t it kind of funny how worked up that fucker gets?”

“To be honest, I’ve never known anyone with quite your talent in riling people up,” you admit, and even though you’re not sure what kind of meaning you want attached to that, you notice that he decides to take it as a compliment all on his own, his chest puffing out in pride. “Too bad I have no idea which opinion is really right, or I’d weigh in, too.”

“Not a Dynasty Warriors kind of girl, then?”

“No one is, Hyuck,” Jeno snorts, shaking his head. “You two are the only people I know who still played that past the fifth installment.”

“Fair. I nurture a love for old franchises.” Donghyuck leans back, looking supremely satisfied at how he’s managed to tick off one of his most important ‘to-do’ points of the day. “So what’s your poison, ___________?”

“What’s that mean?”

“You a Gardenscapes kind of girl? Tekken? Maybe you like some good ol’ fashioned LoL?”

“I honestly don’t have the hand-eye coordination to play,” you confess. “I know Mark likes to play PUBG from time to time. I mostly just sit and ask questions, though. The few times I tried playing with him, I swear any normal person would’ve cried. He had to babysit me like crazy. It was a miracle he didn’t throw me out.”

“She even tries to play with him,” Donghyuck whistles lowly. “Dude, how’d Mark get a chick like you?”

“Meaning?”

“You’re way too good for that dope.” His laugh is light and good-natured. “Never thought a moony-eyed weirdo like him would actually wind up with his dream girl — which he’s called you, more than once, by the way. Fucking disgusting, but… I get it. Doesn’t make it less crazy or weird to hear, though.”

“Sorry to put you through that.” You smile, using your straw to stir the contents of your cup. A warmth spreads through your shoulders and down your arms to the tips of your fingers as you digest what Donghyuck’s just said to you, and you find your eyes trailing back to Mark, who’s pulling off his apron. His eyes are already fixed on you, and when you lock gazes, he mouths a wait for me that makes you want to squeeze the life out of something in pure joy. You settle for a soft sigh. “I guess it won’t help if I say your friend over there’s my dream guy.”

“It absolutely will not,” Donghyuck groans, faking a gagging noise that has you laughing. “But tell you what — if you ever get tired of Mark playing PUBG and ignoring you like the clown he is, I’ll find you someone else more your speed.”

“No thanks,” you snort, taking the last sip of your drink. “More than that, I’d just want to be some kind of helpful to him if I ever play with him again.”

“We can help you with that too,” Jisung volunteers. “Jeno taught me the basics. I’m sure he can teach you too.”

“Yeah, and I’m guessing you’d be a better student than mister “how come you didn’t tell me I had to focus the crosshairs myself” over here,” Jeno chuckles, surreptitiously pointing at Jisung when you cast him a questioning look.

“I’m pretty good at sneak attacks myself.” Donghyuck makes a show of pretending to slice your neck before grinning smugly. “We’ll take care of you. Mark won’t know what hit him next time.”

“What’s happening to me next time?”

You feel Mark before you see him, his hand landing on your head lightly and smoothing your hair back in an idle, gentle motion to announce his presence. You look up at him, already beaming, and he returns the favor as his hand settles on your shoulder.

“We were just talking about replacing you. Both as a friend and as a boyfriend, for your poor little dream girl here who’s just too nice to turn you down.” Donghyuck lies like it’s second nature; you wonder if that’s a Finance major thing or just a him thing.

“And you’re offering that to someone who didn’t ask for it?” Mark snorts, nudging Chenle’s bag over so he can sit in the empty spot.

“She’s so caught up in your sticky little web that she can’t struggle against you.” Donghyuck feigns a heavy sigh that suggests he feels sorry for you before he puts a hand on your free shoulder, shaking his head in a convincing kind of pity. “I’ll save you, so don’t worry. Mark can’t keep his grubby hands on you forever. Whenever you need to be saved, I’ll come a-running to free you.”

There’s a tightness on one shoulder that disrupts the balance of your torso, and you find yourself leaning closer to Mark. Your hand finds its way to his knee, giving it a light squeeze under the table, and his grip loosens by a fraction. Donghyuck’s as quick to let go as he is to hang on.

“We were just talking about PUBG,” you correct, and Mark’s eyes snap to you. “I was asking for help — you know, so I won’t drag you down the next time I join in?”

“I don’t mind whatever you do in-game.” He’s quick to comfort you, even if you don’t actually need it, but it feels warm and cold “I’m just glad you wanna try it with me.”

“No, but I kind of want to learn too. So it can be fun for both of us. Also so you don’t have to keep avenging me after five minutes,” you laugh. Mark cracks a smile then, and you don’t realize his expression had been slightly harder until it softens under your gaze.

“Then I’ll teach you next time.”

“No, I want to surprise you with how cool I get. And then next time, I’ll even beat you.” You turn to Donghyuck, slightly unsure. “Uh… I can beat him, can’t I?”

“If you play different teams, yeah,” he confirms. “Trust me. I’ll help you kick his ass.”

“Or we’ll both kick yours,” Mark chuckles, his grasp now tightening and loosening intermittently. He’s massaging your shoulder lightly, and you end up sinking deeper into his side. You don’t miss the slightly nauseated amusement that passes across Donghyuck’s face nor the way he mouths ‘sap’ to Mark, who ignores this comment in its entirety.

“Yo, hotpot at seven? Renjun’s asking,” Chenle announces as he returns to your table, his phone in one hand and a crumpled paper towel in the other. “Jaemin can’t make it, though. Study group or whatever shit he always says.”

“I’m down,” Donghyuck immediately replies, and Chenle’s eyes shoot heavenward, like he’s already asking for the divine strength to not sock Donghyuck in the face later.

“Can’t,” Jeno yawns, both his arms outstretched as he tries to move the sleep out of his spine. “Pre-test tomorrow.”

“Dude, it’s a pre-test,” Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “You don’t have to study if they’re just testing how much you know before studying.”

“Gotta study all the same.”

“I gotta pass too,” Jisung looks actually apologetic. “I promised my mom I’d help her move some stuff to my aunt’s place tonight.”

“Boring,” Chenle grumbles before turning to the both of you. “Lovebirds?”

“Rain check,” Mark shakes his head. “Family dinner. My brother’s home for the weekend. How about Monday instead? Most of us can’t make it anyway. At least Jaemin doesn’t have study group either.”

“If that’s even what that weirdo’s doing,” Chenle sighs, already punching in a message to send to Renjun. “Fine; I’ll ask about Monday. You guys better actually reply to the goddamn group chat. I can’t coordinate in six different private chats ever again.”

“You can put my name down already,” Mark casts you a sideway glance, and you nod immediately. “Two names, actually.”

“I’m good on Monday too. When we see each other again, I’ll bring some prospects for you to sift through,” Donghyuck adds to you, and you laugh. “Cool guys. Jocks. I know this upperclassman all the girls say is really hot. I think I still have his Messenger from when we did a group discussion last semester.”

“I’ll have Mark look at them so he can reject them all for me,” you promise. Donghyuck feigns affront before looking at Mark in utter disbelief.

“How the fuck did you snag a girl like this, man?”

“I’m pretty sure she once told me I… what did you say?” Mark glances at you amusedly. “I had some moves, I guess.”

“You mean stutter and blush in her presence?” Donghyuck can’t decide how to look at you without being even the slightest bit offensive; he just settles on incredulity. “And that won you over?”

“Most powerful move in the Mark Lee playbook,” you shrug, grinning. “Had me from the first ‘um,’ and he’s had me ever since.”

“You lucky son of a bitch,” Donghyuck snorts, and neither of you misses the slightly abashed but unmistakable smugness in Mark’s face when you lean in to rest your head on his shoulder.

The second time it happens is on that Monday, in a far more noticeable capacity. You just aren’t quick enough to read the signs, as usual.

But in your defense (again), it hadn’t felt all that significant.

“Fuck, this is spicy,” Na Jaemin sucks air in through his teeth and lets it out in a sharp whistle that’s broken by a laugh that’s not necessarily at anything funny. Maybe he’s just laughing at the sheen of sweat across his forehead that he has to wipe off with the other side of his napkin.

Miraculously, the hotpot plan pushes through, with no small amount of effort in coordination on Chenle’s part; he’d even texted you just to make sure he’d gotten the head count right, despite the fact that Mark had already confirmed your attendance twice over. Even the often elusive Na Jaemin, who always seems to have one or another study group to attend on most nights, manages to come and is currently busy mixing his peanut sauce in his little bowl with such vigor that you can’t help but wonder if he’s not trying to drown the mala-flavored strips of meat in it completely.

“That’s why I said you need a bowl of water for dipping, you dimwit,” Donghyuck points his chopsticks at Jaemin’s messy plate in a way you can only describe as nagging, even if that’s actually impossible. “You’ve got super mala breath now.”

“Don’t know about me, but I can smell yours all the way from over here,” Jaemin quips back with an easy kind of nonchalance, hastily ducking the balled-up napkin that goes flying across the table. It lands on the floor behind his chair harmlessly.

It’s nice, you think, that Mark’s friends like to invite you to their outings now; despite all the jokes they’ve made at his expense, they’ve been consistently open to having you around. You’re not necessarily the type of couple that acts in a way that disgusts people into moving to a completely different table anyway, and you allow their conversations to unfold easily without ever interrupting, so you think that this arrangement works for all parties involved.

They’re even louder outside Starbucks, you’ve come to note; the restaurant is significantly busier than the cafe anyway, filled with people on their company dinners, so Mark’s friends all seem to want to rival that boisterous energy. Weirdly, you like it, even when they’re already half off their seats and one (Chenle) is just about to strangle the other (Donghyuck). The laughter flows freely, and there’s a messiness to the whole affair that makes it impossible to feel uncomfortable.

Even Mark pipes in occasionally, offering his opinion on topics he knows much more about than you, and you can’t help but admire how everyone listens to him when he starts to speak, even if he has nothing realistically important to say. His friends might find it odd that you’d been so drawn to him, but they just don’t know that even they’re victims of Mark’s natural magnetism, also falling quiet and eager to hear his voice, his light-hearted laugh, in response to the things they say.

But even when he’s mostly distracted by conversation, there’s a part of him that continuously pays attention to you in his own way. He nudges his ginger and soy sauce bowl towards you with the side of his wrist so you can dip your beef in, even if you’d adamantly declined him giving you your own bowl of it in the first place (you’d always thought you were peanut sauce or nothing kind of girl, but one sneaky venture into Mark’s sauce proved you wrong). His hand hovers over your head when you drop your chopsticks and bend over to pick them up from where they’ve rolled under the table, making sure you’re bump-free when you resurface.

And his palms always, always settle somewhere on you, no matter what he’s doing. If one hand is busy feeding himself, the other is intent on warming your thigh, passing over the denim in slow, steady strokes. His fingers tickle your knee when you laugh, just to make you laugh a little harder — you’d even almost kneed the table at one point, much to Huang Renjun’s alarm. But the most common place for his arm is around you, fingers lightly bunched into the side of your shirt, like he’s worried loosening his grip on you further will cause you to vanish. It keeps him close to you, keeps his scent and warmth washing over you in gentle waves, so much so that you often have to remind yourself that he’ll be the target of much light-hearted mockery if you so much as lean into him and rest your head on his shoulder.

But it’s hard to resist it, especially when his hand seems to be intent on outlining every curve on that side, passing over your hip and dipping into your waist. The motion allows him to slowly but surely lift the fabric of your shirt, up until there’s just enough of an opening for his palm to slip under, and suddenly it’s much warmer on that side, with the light roughness of his hand grazing at your skin. His fingers always stretch apart, like he’s trying to feel as much of you as he can, and the pads of his digits have a tendency to graze the plane of your stomach — his nails sometimes even travel featherlight just next to your navel, etching out words you can’t really decipher. Like he’s writing a message just for you.

It makes you feel like no matter what he’s doing, a part of his mind is always on you.

“You guys want to see that new horror movie? The Ghost Within, I think it’s called,” Jisung asks the group from over at the other end of the table, having to raise his voice significantly to make sure it isn’t swept away by the raucous laughter from across the restaurant. “I think it’s coming out in a week or two.”

“I’d be okay with it,” Renjun shrugs, although he doesn’t look enthused. “Kind of looks like a cliche horror with all those cheap jump scares and shit, but I’m down if you all are.”

A wave of assent passes over the group in general, but you notice Mark doesn’t immediately respond. You take this opportunity to lean in and confess your stance.

“If I have to sit around and watch a ghost pop out at me from a big-ass movie screen, you may never again see me in the same wonderful light you do today,” you warn. “Remember me as I am, not as I will be, Mark Lee.”

He snorts, coughing lightly as a mixture of ginger and fishcake sticks in his throat. “Yeah — we’ll pass, I think.”

“Scaredy-cat,” Donghyuck teases, and you’re surprised that Mark doesn’t come to his own defense. There’s something romantic in him not wanting to be the one to sell you out, but you suppose there’s also a kind of chivalry in being the one to take the bullet.

“Actually, I’m the one who can’t handle it well,” you smile in apology. “Sorry. I don’t have much of a reputation, so to speak, but what elegance may be attached to my name, however misplaced, is something I really want to maintain. At least until I graduate.”

“In short, you don’t want Mark to see you scream and cry,” Chenle deduces. You can’t even find fault in him figuring it out so quickly.

“Bingo.”

“Well, we can solve the problem,” Donghyuck claps his hands, getting everyone’s attention for no good reason. “__________, you sit beside me, and Mark can sit on the far end of the row. With how dark it is, he won’t see anything, and I get to sit next to a cute girl in a movie theater. Win-win.”

“Thanks for the offer,” you laugh, shaking your head. “But it’s not a win-win if I accidentally grab your hand out of instinct.”

“It is to me,” Donghyuck winks, and you feel Mark’s hand stop brushing over your stomach. His fingers curl in lightly, almost like he’s trying to make a fist but can’t quite get to that point out of personal restraint. “Or better yet, you could do what we all think you should do and dump Mark for someone you won’t be ashamed to cry in front of. I, for one, would not even bother to comment on whatever emotions you’re going through in the middle of a movie, so what do you say? It’s a pretty sweet deal, in my humble opinion. Me versus Mark Lee. The showdown of the century, right here in Hai Di Lao.”

You’ve noticed that the more Donghyuck piles onto his little teasing rampage, the more forcefully Mark tugs you over; his fingers aren’t just skimming over your skin but have now grown into the habit of gently pinching it, as if begging for your attention. It feels nice but also a little urgent, although it’s hard for you to understand why; the whole foundation of this group is built on teasing each other until someone (Chenle) snaps and lobs a bottle cap at someone else (Donghyuck), so it should be normal for Mark to be at the receiving end of some light banter.

“Should we ask the hostess to referee the match, then?” You ride along with the joke.

“No way. You’re the one calling the shots.” Donghyuck sits up a little straighter, putting on a smug face. “Okay, pick, __________. Me or Mark; who’s got the better punches?”

You make a show of acting thoughtful, even tapping your chin to pretend considering it deeply, but there was never any doubt on your choice. Still, you can’t really decipher the sudden slowness, the light tremble in Mark’s palm as it travels to your hip, where it settles, heavy, over the curve.

“It’s a complete knock-out,” you finally announce, grinning. “Championship belt goes to Mark.”

“Man, if I had a girlfriend as straight-shooting about her feelings for me as you are about your feelings for Mark, I’d propose in a day, max,” Jeno groans, half-exasperated and half-amused all at once.

“Man must’ve saved a nation or something in his past life,” Donghyuck grimaces. “No way he deserves a girl this hot and crazy about him. Hey — got any tips on stopping natural disasters or something? I could use a sexy, loyal girlfriend in my next life. Or maybe I’ll just poach yours in this one and see what it feels like.”

“I would actually deck you, so don’t even try it,” Mark snorts, his arm now winding full around your waist. You’re flush against his side, and he uses this opportunity to do something he doesn’t often do in front of his friends: show explicit affection by pressing a light kiss just behind your ear. It tickles, his breath grazing your earlobe, and you giggle, squirming in his hold. All he does is smile and pull you in tighter.

The bill’s split eight ways, but Mark’s fishing out cash to pay for your share even before you can get your wallet out from the bottom of your bag; it’s one of those quick, instinctive moves he likes to use on you, where he pushes the money and sends the bill back to the staff before you can even protest in full, so you have to settle on thanking him by returning the earlier favor — landing a peck on his cheek, which flushes a warm and contented pink the moment your lips make contact.

You just pointedly ignore the snickers that run around the table, particularly from Donghyuck and Jaemin.

The group splits ways at the front of the school dorms; most of them head in after their goodbyes, while Chenle backtracks towards his apartment building off-campus, mumbling something about how he hopes his roommate’s in because he accidentally left his key in the bowl next to their doorway. Mark should be piling in with the rest into the dorms, but he has a habit of insisting that he take you to the subway station; you’ve long since given up on convincing him against tagging along, mostly because he looks slightly hurt whenever you try to get him to stay put. You’re not going to complain anyway; for as much as you like being around Mark’s friends, it’s even better when you have this little slice of alone time despite the hassle it brings him.

Your fingers are linked when you walk under the street lights, the campus road leading to the station entrance significantly less busy at this time of evening; it’s cool enough for you to have an excuse to press yourself into Mark’s form, and he accepts this additional burden with an immense amount of grace, his arm finding its way around you again. Two minutes later, his palm is pressed against your bare skin once more, rubbing small, gentle circles just above your pelvis.

A part of you wonders if you’ll be able to do this — lean in, flush against him — when the summer heat starts to stick, but rather than really worrying about the logistics, you realize you’re more hung up on the idea of spending this summer with him.

“Sorry,” Mark murmurs out of the blue. Your eyebrows shoot up, and he looks down at you sheepishly. “Isn’t hanging out with my friends kind of driving you crazy?”

You hum in thought before shaking your head in resolution. “Not really. Not in a bad way, at least. I like how close you guys all are — and how big the group is. It’s usually just Yeji and Jisu with me, and they’re definitely not as rowdy. The change of pace is pretty fun.”

“Yeji and Jisu,” he echoes. “Your best friends. I haven’t met them yet, have I?”

“Not yet. Jisu started a part-time job across town, so we can’t get our schedules to align right just yet.” Your hip collides gently with his. “Should I let you, though?”

“One day… I think it would be nice to hang out with a less migraine-inducing crowd for a change.”

“I’ll tell them, then. They want to meet you.” You crane your neck up slightly, lowering your voice into a hushed whisper that’s completely unnecessary. “They want to know if you’re as cute as you look in your pictures.”

Mark draws back, laughing incredulously. “How do they know what my pictures look like?”

“I stalked your Instagram and showed them,” you answer simply. He throws you a funny look that’s equal parts disbelief and amusement. “They liked that one with the Spider-man costume.”

“Please don’t,” he groans, passing a hand over his face. “I should have taken that down, but I didn’t think anyone would care.”

“Why? I like it.” Your hand’s the one that manages to slip under his sweater this time, fingers trailing down his stomach; you feel him suck it in for a second in surprise before he lets out an exhale.

“I can’t ever understand what’s going through your head,” he chuckles, and you think it’s unfair that he manages to extract your hand from under the fabric while his is still firmly pressed against the side of your stomach. “You saw that and still wanted to date me?”

“Mark Lee, you simply underestimate how much I adore you. It’s kind of hurting my feelings at this rate.”

You’re just a few inches shy of the circle of light cast by the subway station sign. Your feet try to bring you forward, but Mark lingers behind, just outside the curve of soft white on the pavement, and his hand slips from under your shirt. You turn, and his hand skims down your arm instead, fingers locking around your wrist. With the slight distance between you, it looks like you’re caught in motion.

“I still can’t wrap my head around it sometimes.”

“What?”

“I just look over at you and feel like it’s not real. Like you’re going to disappear, and I’m just going to wake up from a dream and see you the next day, just some other stranger who doesn’t even know my name.” He licks his lips, and you want to reach out and kiss him already, but you know he isn’t done talking. “And I’m going to remember how much I liked you in that dream, but you won’t ever feel that same way.”

“You know I’m right here, though, don’t you?” Your fingers mimic his, squeezing around his wrist. “You can feel me. I’m here with you.”

Hesitation flashes across his face even when he nods, and you notice his eyes flit down to his shoes before looking back up at you — a habit of avoidance you know he’s trying to correct. “Sometimes I have to wonder if they’re right.”

“If… who’s right?”

“Them.” He jerks his thumb back in the general direction of the school dorms. “The guys. You know — when they ask me how I got a girl like you… the truth is, I don’t even really know. They can’t believe it, and it’s so crazy to me that I still sometimes can’t myself. So I start wondering if—”

You don’t let him finish this time; it’s rude to interrupt, you know, but you also know that what he’s about to say is probably something neither of you wants to hear anyway. Your lips connect with his, firm and demanding, and his words die in his throat, melting into a soft groan that vibrates against your skin. When you pull away, you don’t create the same distance, and Mark’s hands find their way to your waist, slightly trembling.

“They’re wrong,” you murmur, a quiet strength in your voice. “So stop wondering and just be with me.”

A smile starts tugging on the corners of his mouth, and the next moment, he’s nodding in assent, in wholehearted agreement, and the next kiss you share is one he starts, far more gentle than earlier.

“Next time I catch you entertaining nonsensical thoughts, there’ll be consequences.”

“Are you threatening me?” His laugh is colored with incredulity.

“Yes.” Your tone is firm, but your grin gives away too much of the jest. “Maybe I’ll ground you for a week, or something really childish.”

“I’d take it if you were with me.”

“That’s not how it works,” you snort, gently flicking the tip of his nose. He scrunches it on impact. “You’d be in solitary. You must reflect on your actions and all that nonsense. Meanwhile, I’ll be out having some good hotpot with everyone else.”

“If that happens, promise me one thing, then.” He maneuvers your stance until you’re both back in the blanket of darkness, just out of reach of the subway entrance. “Don’t sit next to Donghyuck.”

“And let him and Chenle give me an earful about how bad-slash-good the first Human Centipede movie was all over again? I think not.”

“No, really.” Mark buries his face into your neck, and you hear the quiet inhale as he breathes in your scent. On instinct, your hand comes up to thread through his hair, nails gently scratching at his scalp. “I don’t want you sitting there and hearing him talk your ear off about how much I don’t deserve you or that he’ll help you find someone better.”

“You know he’s just joking — and I’m just joking, right?”

“Just promise me.”

You pause, wondering if it’s in your best interest to tease him for whatever act he’s pulling, but there’s a shortness to his breathing that makes the whole situation feel weirdly tense. He’s really waiting for something — an answer. The right answer, maybe.

“I promise,” you finally say, and you know you’ve said the correct thing when Mark’s lips press a soft kiss to your collarbone, like he’s sealing in your vow.

On the third time, Mark pretty much gives up.

The strangest thing is that it starts at a time when you’re not even actually together; if you had to pinpoint the exact moment, it probably had to be when Donghyuck had walked you to the dorm from library. No — maybe even before that. Somewhere in the time you’d spent in there, he’d thought up yet another way to push Mark’s buttons. You just didn’t really know the exact minute he’d first seen you with Jung Jaehyun.

You don’t know how Jaehyun does it; he skips half his classes and somehow doesn’t even get in trouble, let alone fail. You’d only met him last semester, but he was just about the only person who was halfway familiar in your Anthropology 120 class, so you thought you could at least feel comfortable enough to chat with him about the weather or what had happened in the last meeting. You don’t expect him to strong-arm you into being something of a literal proxy for him; the first week of the semester, you’d spend almost each lecture period gnawing on your nails and fretting over the fact that your signature for attendance looked nothing like his. By the second week, you’d already come to realize that it doesn’t matter because he had only attended one lecture — the first one — thus far and your professor was as clueless about Jaehyun’s handwriting as you. By the fourth week, you had resigned yourself to being his slightly unwilling associate for his random escapades, allowing him to copy off your notes and turning in his homework for him.

Now that you think about it, that’s probably how he does it.

You sacrifice your free time for him today, caged up in a library for pretty much the afternoon. You can’t help but resent him, not just because the whole room is stuffy and the librarian keeps passing by, clucking to remind people not to litter between shelves, but also because you’d much rather do things that are important to you — like pretending to flirt with Mark for the first time when you place your order and watching him act like it’s the first time you’re saying something so sweet to him, except he’s definitely not pretending. Instead of watching Mark’s face color that cute shade of pink and that sweet little smile pull at his mouth until he’s basically biting his lips back to stop himself from grinning, you have to bore yourself with the sight of Jaehyun trying to decipher your handwriting.

“You should really be more legible with your strokes.” He has the audacity to chastise you as if he’s the one doing you a favor by giving you constructive criticism.

“You should really come to class more often,” you bite back, although there’s no real heat to your words. You just look out the window and watch the sun sink down behind the university hospital building, wondering if there’s a chance you’ll still be able to catch Mark before his shift ends.

“Would if I could.”

“You actually fucking can,” you say tiredly, and even the way he turns the page is so impossibly slow. “Can’t you just take a picture?”

“Nah; writing it down carefully really helps my retention of this kind of stuff.”

“So take a picture and then write it down carefully.”

“With your ridiculous handwriting? I’d probably fail.”

“So come to class and write it yourself!”

Your hiss increases in pitch, and it calls the attention of the librarian over to you. She swoops in, clicking her tongue, but she’s not even looking at you. Her eyes are zoned in on Jaehyun, who meets her gaze with so much innocence it’s hard to imagine you’d wanted to smack him two minutes ago.

“Jung Jaehyun,” the librarian snaps in an undertone. The slow, punctuated way she says his name suggests she knows him fairly well — and not in a great way. “I see you’re back in here after your probationary period.”

“Sorry for the trouble, Mrs. Park.” He grins up at her, looking anything but apologetic. “I promise I won’t get in your way again today.”

“And this one—” She points to you, and you point to yourself in shock at being pointed to, and Jaehyun’s pointing at you and mouthing ‘this one’ with excessive mirth in his eyes. “Isn’t another one of those girls you plan on defiling my sacred space with?”

Jaehyun says ‘we didn’t defile anything’ at the same time you say I’m going to throw up, and the librarian just adds to the noise by shushing you on top of that jumble of words.

“I’ll be keeping a close eye on you two,” Mrs. Park warns before stalking away, tutting at a library assistant for wrongly shelving a volume of Encyclopedia Brittanica.

“Please, Jaehyun,” you groan, crossing your arms over the table and flattening your forehead against them. “Just hurry up. Release me.”

He ignores you, still leaning closer to your notebook to decipher your handwriting. “I would like to set the record straight and make it known I didn’t fuck anyone in the library.”

“What’d you get probation for, then?”

“Just making out.” You notice he has the energy to grin wickedly even without meeting your eye, even while he’s still scrawling on his own notebook, and you groan something incoherent and irate once again. “What are you in such a big hurry for, anyway?”

“Has it ever occurred to you,” you grumble, raising your head. “That some people might want to do better things than sit here and watch you write stuff for ages?”

“No,” comes his simple reply. You bop your head onto your arms a few times in the hope that the impact will shake you out of this nightmare and you’d find yourself waking up in Mark’s arms instead, but you have no such luck. “By better things, do you mean fucking Mark Lee in someone else’s bedroom? That’s real defilement, by the way.”

“How’d you hear about that?” You squeeze your eyes shut and growl under your breath. “Fucking Youngho.”

“You doing that too?”

“Shut — please, would you hurry?”

He pointedly purses his lips in an effort to keep himself from letting out what you can only assume is, by the glint in his eyes, a witch’s cackle. “Almost done, man. Relax a bit. So did you guys get together — like, together together?”

You initially contemplate not telling him, but Jaehyun’s nosiness is probably going to reveal the truth to him sooner or later anyway. “Yeah. What’s it to you, though?”

“Nothing. You’re lucky.”

For the first time today, you feel like Jaehyun has finally said something right. “Yeah — yeah, I am.”

“I bet his friends don’t seem to think so.”

“Is this something you know because it’s a guy thing or because you’re so nosy that you just can’t help but listen in on every other juicy conversation around you?”

“A bit of both,” he chuckles. “Mostly just because I know Lee Donghyuck was giving him a hard time about it last semester.”

“I noticed that too — a bit, anyway. But it’s just banter, I think.”

“Probably. Imagine being his friend and getting a girlfriend; it’s like… the perfect ammunition for teasing. But I’m pretty sure half of the things that come out of his mouth are jokes meant to annoy.”

“What about yours?”

“I get it,” he sighs, shutting your notebook resolutely. It makes a thud that alerts the librarian two tables away, and she glares at you like you’re climbing onto Jaehyun’s lap in the middle of the References on the Korean War aisle. “I’ll set you free. Thanks, by the way, for letting me copy from you. Same time next week?”

“Or how about you look up the schedules for our classes and actually come instead of piggybacking off of my efforts and making snarky remarks about my handwriting while you’re taking advantage of my goodwill?”

“Sounds like too much effort on my end,” he yawns, waving you off as you stuff your notebook into your bag. “Later, ___________. Say hi to Mark for me. The normal way — not the girlfriend way, please.”

You stick your tongue out at him before you make a mad dash for the door, ignoring Mrs. Park as she shushes your footsteps on the marble. You’re so intent on fishing your phone out of your bag that you almost ram the door into the person standing behind it.

“Oh, fuck— Jesus, I’m sorry, I wa— wait, Donghyuck?”

“Great to see you too, ___________.” He rubs his jaw where the edge of the door grazed it. “You in a rush?”

“I was just about to go see if Mark was still at Starbucks.”

“His shift’s probably almost over. I’m headed back to the dorm if you wanna tag along.” When you nod, he starts leading the way, breaking the silence again soon after. “Were you in a study group, or something?”

“No,” you jerk your thumb backwards towards the minuscule form of Jaehyun, who’s now busy wasting time and space playing something on his phone where you’d left him. Donghyuck’s eyebrows shoot up. “He’s my classmate who never comes to class. I was just lending him my notes.”

“Oh, Jaehyun, yeah.” Donghyuck snaps his fingers. “We were classmates last semester. He never went to class either, but I don’t know who he mooched off of to pass. You guys close?”

“Not really. I just fell into the trap of being too nice to him.”

“It’s funny,” he hums, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Jaehyun seems more your speed. On paper, at least.”

You can’t help but look taken aback, and Donghyuck laughs at your expression. “What do you mean, my speed?”

“Not sure.” He pauses, trying to find the right words to explain himself. “Someone who’d fit more into your social circles. Someone who probably likes Formula One and considers men’s health magazines to be classic literature.”

“That’s your impression of my social circle?”

“You know what I mean. People like Jung Jaehyun or Seo Youngho. I literally thought you were dating him last semester, so it was totally crazy to hear you asked Mark out.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Like… you asked him out. Not even the other way around. That’s ridiculous.”

“Why?” You know he doesn’t mean anything bad by it; Donghyuck has next to no filter, and something about him being unable to process your relationship is honestly a little funny. “A girl can’t ask a guy out?”

(You try not to think too hard about the fact that up until you’d cornered him in Youngho’s room, you had been praying to whatever god could hear you to convince Mark Lee to do the romanticist thing and ask you out.)

“Nah, dude. Like… a girl like you asked a guy like him out.”

“I didn’t ask him out because he was a guy like that,” you say pointedly. “I asked him out because he was a guy I liked. I wouldn’t have asked anyone else out if it weren’t him.”

Donghyuck falls quiet for a while, and only the crunching of the leaves underfoot accompanies your walk. “You really like him that much, huh?”

“I’m crazy about him.” His nose scrunches up like he’s been hit with a horrible smell, and you laugh. “Can you stop giving him a hard time? Or tone it down? I know you probably don’t like it—”

Donghyuck’s chuckle is light and easy. “I’m not teasing him because I hate it; let’s be clear on that. I actually really like that you guys are together. I’ve never seen him this happy with anything or anyone.”

“Then why are you—”

“Because he’s Mark.” A devilish grin creeps up his features as he holds the door to the dorm lobby open for you. “And teasing him is my favorite thing to do.”

You shake your head; you can’t help your amusement, but you’re not sure you fully understand this kind of friendship. You suppose if Mark is okay with it in its totality, then there isn’t much you can say to change it either.

The next twenty minutes pass in comfortable back-and-forths; Donghyuck is, as you already have learned, an expert conversationalist, and while he doesn’t aggravate you the way he does Chenle, he does manage to navigate a quick-fire kind of exchange of thoughts and information that allows you to see the speed at which he thinks. There’s barely any lag between when he digests what you say and when he responds. You suppose there’s a measure of wit in that, but it’s also a little bemusing to see someone speak without at least running it through the conscience checker every once in a while. You decide you’ve never met anyone quite like Lee Donghyuck before.

He’s in the middle of asking you what the Anthropology professor is like because he’s planning on taking it as an elective if he can when you notice a familiar figure pushing into the lobby, backpack swinging on a folded elbow.

“Mark!” The brief confusion on his face morphs into a surprised joy when he spots you on the couch, even though a bit of it lingers upon recognizing that Donghyuck is seated next to you. He walks over in long strides, and your posture straightens to meet his palm as it comes down gently against the crown of your head again; it bumps lightly, causing the both of you to laugh.

“Hey, you.” His voice is warm and fond in its greeting, and you beam up at him. “Did you have a busy afternoon?”

“Unfortunately. Did you just get back from your shift?”

“I passed by the co-op to check out the new university letter jackets. Design’s pretty dope.” He nods towards the elevator. “You wanna head up for a little bit?” You almost get to respond before your companion cuts in instead.

“Hey. Can’t you see we’re having a riveting conversation over here?” Donghyuck sniffs, making a show of hitting Mark’s shin lightly with the heel of his shoe. “Have some respect.”

“Is the conversation so riveting that I can’t take my girl for the evening at all?”

You mouth out a no, but Donghyuck’s flair for dramatics has him humphing and shoving Mark’s hand away from your hair. “Yeah, man. At least let us finish up.”

“What’s this even about?”

“How Jung Jaehyun asked her out in the library today,” Donghyuck replies easily. You start, shaking your head immediately, but Mark’s jaw slackens a little upon hearing this. Donghyuck continues loudly over your protests, and you can’t keep your voice straight because you’re adamant and yet, somehow, still laughing incredulously in your shock. “Oh, dude, let me tell you. He had his arm around her like this — and he was giving her the bedroom eyes… I wouldn’t have blamed her if she folded, honestly.”

“Mark, no,” your stupid gasp comes out as half a giggle as a result of Donghyuck trying to reenact his imaginary scenario. He’s slung his arm across your shoulders and pulled himself in, doing his best expression of a pleading dog’s gaze, which is both perplexing and hilarious. “He’s just kidding—”

“Then he got all close like this—” Donghyuck presses his forehead against yours, and the view he allows himself blocks him from having to look at Mark. You, on the other hand, are still trying to resist a misunderstanding, your palms up and every part of your body that can move shaking vehemently, but you can see Mark’s face turn a violent shade of red you can’t remember having seen from him before. “Spoke all low — you remember he had that sexy, husky voice, right? ”

“He’s just messing with you,” you wheeze out, trying to extract yourself from Donghyuck’s hold, but he only tightens his arm around your neck, almost to the point where you can’t inhale properly.

“And he said ‘you’re the hottest chick I’ve ever seen—’ then you know what he did, Markie?”

Mark doesn’t respond; you’re not even sure if he can, considering his Adam’s apple is bobbing dangerously like he’s one misstep away from exploding. You laugh again, stupidly, because you don’t know what else to do; you know Donghyuck’s teasing him, and you know Mark usually takes it in stride, but you’ve also never seen the latter look so focused on anything that didn’t involve a math problem or eating you out. “No, really, nothing hap—”

You don’t even have the space to finish your sentence. Donghyuck’s too quick when he grabs your face and plants a comedically sloppy kiss on your cheek, bursting out in laughter when he pulls away. You can only sit there, probably as stunned as Mark looks, raising your hand slowly to wipe the spittle Donghyuck left behind in his wake.

“Oh, Jesus,” Donghyuck rasps out between snorts. “Your face is priceless, man.”

“Not funny,” Mark grumbles, and there’s a hoarseness to his voice that makes you feel like it’s barely controlled.

“Also not true. I just bumped into her on the way from the library. We were talking about one of her classes or whatever.” Donghyuck dramatically wipes the tears from his eyes, and you sigh, nudging him. “Sorry, sorry. I couldn’t resist. Man, don’t even worry. She’s downright crazy about you. Even if Jung Jaehyun had asked her out—”

“Anyway.” Mark reaches down, lacing your fingers together, pulling you up and closer to his side like he’s worried you’ll catch Donghyuck’s crazy. “If that’s all of it…”

“Yeah, yeah. You two lovebirds go moon over each other already. I just love seeing your face like that.”

Mark snorts, yanking on Donghyuck’s earlobe punitively, and the latter cries out sharply (and a little exaggeratedly) at the pain. Mark doesn’t even seem to care; he leads you to the elevator and punches in his floor. You barely have time to call out a belated ‘bye’ to Donghyuck, who acknowledges it with a raise of his palm, before the doors slide shut.

It’s a slow elevator, given that it’s an old building, and the first couple of floors pass without much noise between the two of you. You’re not unaware of how tight Mark’s grip is on your hand, but you don’t comment nor take it against him. By the fourth floor, you’re raising his hand up to your lips and pressing a kiss against his knuckles.

“Nothing happened.” You confirm his unasked question, and you see a modicum of tension leave his shoulders. “He was just messing with you because he thinks it’s funny.”

“Yeah, I know.” Even if he says it like that, there’s still lingering doubt in his voice. “Were you with Jung Jaehyun today, though? Is that why you didn’t show up?”

You nod. “He was copying my notes for Anthropology. Guy barely shows up to lectures, so he borrows my stuff. I can’t believe he hasn’t been suspended yet. Or punched in the face by the people he leeches off of.”

“No kidding.”

You step out on the sixth floor with him. Even if you already know where Mark’s dorm is, you let him lead the way, and he ushers you into an empty and dimly lit living space while taking his shoes off. His roommate barely seems to be around; you’ve seen him all of two times, and it doesn’t look like he’s here either right now. You pause anyway, listening to any signs of life just to be sure, but when you both confirm that there’s no one but the two of you, you busy yourselves with turning on the lights and plugging in the water dispenser.

You work in relative silence; it isn’t anything unusual since you’ve done this a million times, and you’ve come to learn that small talk isn’t necessary when you’re just washing your hands or opening the refrigerator aimlessly even if you know you both plan on ordering in. But there’s a weird aura around Mark that you’re not sure how to place; he doesn’t seem like he’s mad, but there definitely seems to be something off — a problem, at least, that you’re not sure you know how to ask about.

So you just try to diffuse whatever it is by completely ignoring it.

“Pizza or Chinese?” You ask, flopping onto the couch as he plugs the television into the outlet. He looks up at you, and you notice his eyes are slightly dazed, like you’ve just woken him up from a dream. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” His voice is hoarse the first time he says it, so he clears his throat and tries again. “Yeah, sorry.”

“What’s on your mind?”

“We just had pizza, so I’m thinking Chinese is the better option. Cream shrimp? Fried rice? Not the salted fish one, though, maybe.”

You hum in assent, but when he straightens up from behind the television, you extend your arm to him, attempting to clarify yourself. “I mean, what are you thinking so hard about?”

“Nothing.” His answer’s a little too quick. A moment of awkward silence passes where you telepathically tell him you know he’s lying and he has to come to terms with his horrible lying skills, and he sighs, crossing over to the couch and settling beside you. Immediately, he tangles your fingers together, belatedly returning the favor from the elevator and brushing his lips across your knuckles. “He didn’t ask you out, right?”

You know he knows the truth, so you decide to bat your own question back at him in an attempt at rhetoric. “What would it matter if he did? The answer would have been the same, real or imagined.”

Mark pinches the bridge of his nose, inhaling slowly. There’s a red flush on his neck that’s only started fading, it seems. You reach out and skim your finger along the vein that runs down the side of his throat. “I know. I don’t like it all the same. I hate… even thinking about it, actually.”

“Really — nothing happened. If you don’t count the fact that I almost strangled him for keeping me there — which I’m sure you’d agree doesn’t count as anything in favor of him.”

“I heard Jung Jaehyun’s kind of a playboy.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“Nothing. I don’t know.” His head lolls to the side, and his eyes hold a sadness that pulls at your heart. “It means he really could have made a pass at you. Or you could have — I don’t know. In the end… I just worry.”

“Don’t you trust me?” Your lower lip juts out, and his eyes widen slightly, his head shaking before his mouth can even work out a proper response.

“No — I mean, yes, absolutely. It’s — I mean, it’s just—” He inhales again to gather his wits, two fingers still rubbing his forehead. “I trust you, without a doubt. I don’t trust other people — not around you. Not Jaehyun, or Youngho, or—”

“Or Donghyuck?” You smile a little apologetically at his embarrassment, clear on his face when his eyes stray from yours. “Mark, you know he’s only messing with you, right? I thought it was a funny thing for you guys.”

“It’s not funny if it’s about you,” he mumbles, more to himself than to you. He looks up at you again, chewing on his bottom lip. “I know. I’m trying to control it. Sometimes… I don’t know why it gets under my skin. I guess it’s because it could happen — you… finding someone else. I kind of hate the thought of that.”

“And if I said I hate it even more than you?”

His gaze softens, something like relief passing over his features, but the rest of his body still holds a significant amount of tension; you know by the way he’s running agitated circles on the back of your hand. You gently tug on his arm, allowing yourself to use it as an anchor to shift your weight. Mark makes a soft noise of inquiry but says nothing more, waiting until you’ve maneuvered your body to settle on his lap.

The view is reminiscent, and you can see that the core memory you share flashes through his mind too. A small smile, still somewhat reluctant, plays on Mark’s lips, and you hate that it’s all you get right now, so you rectify this by leaning down and leaving a small, chaste kiss on them. You pull away much too soon, and his head follows in response to the distance, chasing your lips until you’re realistically too far to reach. His arm extends instead, swiftly tucking your hair behind your ear.

Your fingers close around his wrist, and your head turns, continuing the kiss against his palm — short and firm.

“Stop doing that.”

His eyebrows fly upward in questioning, his other hand freezing in its trail up your thighs. Even his breath seems to catch, and what’s left of it comes out as a raspy whisper. “Stop being jealous? I’m… I’m trying.”

You shake your head. “Stop being sexy when you’re jealous.”

The ‘what’ he seems to want to ask dies in his throat, his mouth only able to form half of the word before you interrupt, your lips taking in the rest of the syllable. When you kiss him this time, there’s a slow hunger to it; your teeth find his lower lip even before he’s able to get into the rhythm of kissing you back. You just want him to know — everything about him drives you wild, even when he doesn’t know it.

You’ll never grow sick of the taste of him, you’re sure; today, he tastes even more enticing, the hint of something rich mixing in with the stronger flavor of coffee on his tongue. It’s familiar and comforting, and it’s only when you break away, both your faces flushed from a prolonged lack of air, that you puzzle out what the taste is — the lingering aftermath of a vanilla sweet cream cold brew, one he must have prepared in anticipation of you this afternoon.

You briefly squeeze your eyes shut and thank whoever’s listening for the gift of Mark Lee.

“Mark,” your murmur, your voice much softer, intent on coaxing him into releasing his worries. “You know, right?”

His ‘hm’ is only half-there in focus, the rest of his attention on his hands, which have found their way to your ass and have started digging his fingers into the flesh beyond your jeans. You have to tilt his head up with one finger under his chin, and there’s a whirlpool of emotion in them: curiosity, desire, and, interestingly, a quiet, almost suppressed kind of anger.

“If it isn’t you,” you whisper. “Then there’s nobody else.”

You see his jaw tighten, feel his grip against you do the same, and his brow furrows, like he’s trying — much too hard, and for no good reason — to stop himself from tipping over. You don’t like that either; if he’s there, you think, you should take him over the edge.

“But if you want them to know so badly, then…” You tilt your head to the side, exposing more of your neck, bringing the expanse just a little closer to his mouth. “Why don’t you go ahead and put your claim on me?”

You swear you see his pupils dilate right before he presses his mouth to your skin. With a low, almost pained groan against your neck, he latches his teeth in lightly, and you feel the soft sting, the increase in pressure the moment he starts sucking a mark just above your collarbone. There’s a wet, messy pattern to his movements, always punctuated by the sweep of his tongue to soothe your flesh. Even with that, his movements are slow and careful, still gentle in the way he’s handling you, but you feel it anyway — all of his tension’s concentrated in his grip, the way he keeps you close, hips pinned against him as if he’s worried anything less will cause you to disappear.

“Every time you worry, remember you can do this.” You pause, your breath catching in a lilt as his teeth dig in a little more fiercely. “You’re the only one that can.”

His lips detach with a soft groan, fingers squeezing your ass tight for a moment. Warm breath cools against the damp patch on your neck, and a second later, you feel his mouth graze against the few inches of skin, sensitive and slightly raw. “I know. It’s just not fair.”

You hum in questioning, but he doesn’t answer immediately; his mouth busies itself just under the mark he’d surely left, already starting up the same routine. You’d let him, and you want him to, but you want to hear his voice more. Your fingers tangle into his hair, and you use that hold to ease his head back, urging him to look up at you. It’s almost a mistake, seeing him like that — lips slightly swollen and definitely slick with his own saliva, parted just a little to reveal teeth he’d been desperate to nip your flesh with again. It crosses your mind that Mark has a mouth made for kissing — no, that isn’t accurate.

A mouth made for you to kiss.

“What’s not fair?” You ask softly. Even now, he takes his time in answering, his eyes falling close for a second; you watch him swallow, lick his lips, breathe in before he speaks, and all of those mundane things he does somehow make you lose your mind all the more.

“How badly I keep wanting you,” he breathes out, his eyes slowly opening. “And how it makes me think everyone wants you just as much.”

His hands leave the curve of your ass, traveling up your shirt, resting against your sides. He holds you like he’s careful in trying not to break you, his fingers spread wide to make sure his thumbs almost meet against your stomach, but there’s a smoldering headiness in his gaze that tells you he’s thinking a little too hard about wanting to break you.

“I touch you like this, and I think that everyone would kill to do the same.” His fingers squeeze against your flesh, inching upwards until they rest just under your breasts; his thumbs stroke the curved underline of your bra. “I think about kissing you and it feels like everyone’s thinking it at the exact same time. I look at someone next to you, even if you don’t know them, and I wonder if they want to pull you close, if they want to feel you against them just as much as I do. When I—”

He inhales sharply between his words, and the exhale comes out somewhat shaky. For a moment, he grits his teeth, jaw flexing in an attempt to keep himself in check. You worry he doesn’t want to continue — doesn’t want to let you hear it, but it feels so important that you can’t let it go. “Tell me.”

“When I think about fucking you,” he breathes out, voice barely audible. “Whenever I look at you and think about how much I want to feel you around me, feel you cum around me… I just know everyone else wants the same thing, and it’s driving me crazy because… because they can’t.”

It’s there again, flashing in his eyes — a determination that reads almost like fury.

“They can’t,” he repeats, his voice firmer. “I won’t ever let them. Never.”

You don’t stop him this time when his mouth reclaims your skin. You let his thoughts fuel the need in his movements, allow yourself to move only in reaction to what he does — the tilting of your head to give him more room, the tightening of your fists against his shirt to keep yourself steady. A surprised mewl leaves you when you feel his teeth pinch against your flesh again, and it’s harder, sharper this time, his quiet anger finally dictating his strength. You grapple for words, but they come out in weak gasps.

“It doesn’t — doesn’t matter,” you manage to whimper out. “How many people think that way, how much they want me that way. I only ever want you.”

His breathing is caught, warm, in the pocket of space just between you and his mouth; it tingles against your skin, tickles your senses into heightening. Your fingers unfurl, pressing against his chest, and you can feel his quickened heartbeat thrumming under your palm.

“God, please,” he murmurs, the soft peck of a kiss landing against your collarbone. “Please, tell me.”

“Mark, I’m yours.” There’s no teasing in how you say it; it was never meant to rile him up. It even escapes sweetness, the romanticism it usually comes with when you remind him on any other occasion. This is a promise to him, something you’re reinforcing as fact, something that can’t ever change. “I’m always going to be yours — no one else’s. I’ll never let anyone have anything that’s yours. Ask anything, take everything you want. I’ll never say no to you. Only you — always you.”

You know something’s different in a number of ways; his arms circle around you, but instead of keeping you firm and stable in his lap, they’re tight, squeezing a whine out of you, holding your torso flush against his. His face never leaves the crook of your neck, but you hear — feel — something there — a soft growl of need, of frustration that begs release. Suddenly, you find yourself off the couch; you barely have the presence of mind to wrap your arms around his neck and tighten your thighs against his sides before he’s carrying you to his room, kicking the door open and letting the rebound of the impact against his wall slam it shut behind him.

You’ve been in Mark’s room before, so there’s absolutely no need for you to take in the scenery when he sets you down on his bed. It doesn’t matter anyway, even if this were your first time; Mark’s crawling over you, his face flush and eyes sharp with hunger, and he looks so enticing that you wouldn’t want to pay attention to anything else around you anyway. His limbs cage you in, arms on either side of your shoulders and his knees just by your thighs, and you don’t really know why he’s already panting, but it just makes you want him all the more.

“Never,” he groans out, leaning down to nose against the patch of skin his mouth had worked on. “I’m never going to let anyone take you, ever. You’re all mine.”

His name fades on your lips, carried away by a moan when his mouth reattaches itself to your neck; it moves, almost frenzied, to renew the mark he’d left, make it a deeper red, a slightly bruised purple. You’re usually careful not to do anything that will require any attention or cover-up after, but Mark seems a little too far gone to care, and you realize you like him best this way.

Even with all the attention he gives your neck, his fingers are busy; they work on the button of your jeans, sliding them down with the help you offer by raising your hips. They only reach halfway down your thighs, his reluctance to come back up for air stopping him from peeling them off completely, but it’s all he seems to need for now.

Eager fingers ease between your thighs, two at once, pressing against your folds. You’re unable to spread your legs like you usually do, but this tightness makes you all the more sensitive, and you keen as his digits fit themselves into your slit. Frustratingly, they don’t move right away, and you have to raise your hips again just to get some sort of friction. Even then, Mark doesn’t take the hint — or, perhaps, the bait — keeping a light pressure against your clit without doing anything else. His focus is still on your neck, now slightly aching under his lips, and when he finally pulls away, you see a look of triumph on his face. He tilts his head back slightly to admire his work — the blooming dark patch you’re sure he’s left where your skin tingles the most.

“If I said I wanted to mark you all over, would you let me?”

“What makes you think I wouldn’t ask for it?”

He chuckles, tightening the pressure of his fingers against your clit; you say something that sounds halfway between ‘Mark’ and a sob.

“I want to, so badly.” He admits, gaze still fixed on your neck. “I’d want to see you walk out of here, walk into class covered in them. I’d want people to ask you how you got them, and who gave them to you. And I’d want you to say it proudly — that it was me who did it. That I fucked you all night and made you mine over and over again.”

“Why don’t you?” His eyes snap up to you, a small smile forming on his lips. “I want to say that too. Let me brag about having you. Let me tell everyone how good you always make me feel. Then you can tell everyone who doesn’t believe you, too — how I let you take me every single time. Show me off and tell them to look at how you made me yours.”

Another laugh escapes him, but there’s more disbelief than humor in it; he seems to find it amazing, that you can just agree with what he says, no matter how strange he thinks it is.

“Show you off? If I mark you in other places, do I have to show them every part?”

“Do you not want to?”

“I want to, and I don’t.” He pauses, slightly amused, and you know he’s remembering the first time you fucked. “I don’t them to see your body, but I want them to see what I did to it. I don’t want them to look at what’s mine, but I just want them to know it is.”

“Then you can fuck me in front of everyone and make them watch you ruin me completely.”

He shakes his head, even if desire flashes clear across his features. He busies himself with actions while he mulls it over, tugging your jeans down alongside your panties and casting them aside before he straightens up. His eyes rake over your form; you’re bare from the waist down, your shirt halfway ridden up, the underside of your bra peeking out from under the hem. Again, his eyes land on your neck, and his smile widens slightly.

“Can’t.” He decides finally. “You’re too pretty for that.”

You hum thoughtfully, and he raises his eyebrows. He doesn’t move, even when you sit up, shifting yourself so you can tuck your calves under your thighs — not even when you reach out to undo his belt or tug down his zipper. He only reacts a little when your hand presses against his hardness through his boxers, the girth now easily familiar to your palm.

“What about something like this?” You ask, inching closer to the edge of the bed. You’ve started slow strokes against him, the fabric creating extra friction, more heat under your palm, and you watch his jaw clench as he swallows back a soft grunt. “Would you let them watch me do this for you?”

“Let me think about it,” he chuckles softly, and you nod, letting your fingers work to make your point. You don’t have to undress him completely to get what you want; all you need is to tug down the front of his boxers to free him, and you already have him wrapped in your palms, stroking his shaft to full hardness.

“Think faster,” you urge, and he shakes his head, slightly bemused. “Are you telling me you wouldn’t even want them to watch me jerk you off?”

“At least give me a full minute.”

You laugh lightly, whispering a ‘fine’ before you press a soft kiss against tip. He inhales sharp through his teeth, already sensitive, and you waste no time in letting your tongue flick out against the smooth head. He doesn’t need the lubrication, realistically; his precum’s already leaking from the tip, mixing in with your saliva as you run your tongue around it. All you do is make him a little messier, a little slicker, your spittle running down his length.

Taking Mark in your mouth is a demanding task, but one you’re always up for; there’s something uniquely satisfying about letting him fill your mouth, inch by inch, and watching his breathing hitch and stutter until your lips are closer to the base than to the head. What you can’t reach, your hand always squeezes around, eager to make sure he feels good completely. His expression is sublime when you draw your head back the first time, sucking as you do so — his eyes are half-lidded, and he doesn’t stop the moan that falls from his lips. His gaze is fixed on you, hazy but still able to drink the sight of you in, and you’re not sure how, but you almost feel like you could get off to watching him watch you taste him.

You try, somehow, vaguely conscious of the movement of your hips; you’re grinding at nothing at first, so your knees give way just enough for you to press yourself against his sheets. It’s slightly uncomfortable, a strain in your thighs that you’re not really used to, but you don’t care; Mark’s sharp inhale at seeing you attempt to grind your pussy against his mattress is pretty much as arousing as anything else. His cock twitches hard in your mouth, and you suck just a little harder, a little messier, your head bobbing down to meet your hand, still firmly wrapped around his girth.

The room’s filled with nothing but slick sounds and soft groans; Mark’s hand has found its way into your hair, tangled into a makeshift ponytail, and while he isn’t guiding your mouth to do anything, you can feel his hips stutter then start to move, pulling back when your head does. He tries to hide it, tries to keep himself steady, but pride blooms in your chest when you note that he can’t; he wants to feel like he’s fucking into your mouth, into your hand, the way he does when he takes your pussy.

It’s relatively quiet for that time, nothing but muffled moans from you that mix in with his noises, but you only realize you’d been waiting for an answer to something when he speaks up again.

“It’s… still a no for me.”

Your movements slow, your gaze lifting to communicate your mild confusion to him. You don’t want to ask; you just don’t want to lose the taste of him on your tongue just yet. He looks down at you, smiling with overflowing tenderness, almost like he’s apologetic.

“Even just this — you’re too pretty when you do it.” His hand reaches down, thumb stroking over your cheek. “I can’t let anyone see what you look like when you’re like this. They’ll keep thinking about you doing it for them. And you’d only do it for me — right?”

You nod immediately, your response causing your mouth to slip down his shaft just a little more. It elicits a guttural noise from him, one that fuels you into sucking him just a little harder, your enthusiasm overtaking your restraint. His fingers have let go of your hair, stroking it back into smoothness, almost comforting in their movements.

“God, I wish you could see yourself; you’d know what I mean,” he continues to murmur, his voice just a little louder over the eager, wet noises you’re making. “How pretty you look with your mouth wrapped around me. How perfect you are when you’re kneeling like this for me — how happy you look when you’re sucking me off. I can’t share that with anyone. Fuck — not ever.”

Your mouth draws back, completely this time, and your tongue presses against the underside of his cock. You lick a long stripe up his shaft, moaning softly at the light throb you feel, and you watch him tip his head back. The groan that follows soon after is almost close to a frustrated growl, ending in a whispered ‘shit’ before his eyes land back on you. He watches you press kiss after kiss against his tip, coaxing the precum out even more, and you take special care to leave more down each inch of his cock until you’re finally able to release your hold on his base so you can leave the last one there.

His hand combs your hair back before it falls to cup your chin, his thumb swiping at the corner of your mouth to gently clean up the froth of spittle there. You smile up at him in thanks, and his thumb sweeps over the seam of your lips to follow the slight curve.

“So pretty,” he repeats, and your cheeks glow pink under the palms that caress them. He leans down, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. “Pretty as hell, fucking perfect — and you’re all mine.”

You kneel up again, chasing his lips with your own, and he locks you in his arms as his tongue slips its way past your teeth, the aroma of coffee still on it. He leaves today’s taste of him against your tongue, on the ridges of your teeth, until you feel like you’ve all but consumed him, and you whimper softly when he pulls away, urging you to turn around and lean back into his chest.

His mouth reattaches itself to the same spot; it’s like a home base for him, and he breathes in your scent from there before giving the same patch of skin a light suck, almost as if he’s worried it’ll fade in a few minutes’ time if he doesn’t give it attention.

“Show me.” Hands slide down to your hips, squeezing them lightly, like a prompt for your response. “Show me how pretty you are for me.”

His palms never leave you, not even when you detach yourself from his chest and bend down; your elbows meet the mattress, but your hips stay raised, giving him a view of your pussy. Your gasp easily turns into a moan when his digit dips into your wetness again, his other hand pushing gently at your asscheek to keep you open.

You think he’s about to slip his finger in, the tip brushing against your entrance, and you tense in anticipation, but it doesn’t happen; he continues to run his finger down your slit, careful not to linger against your clit for too long. The result is that you tighten around nothing, and you hear him suck in a breath as he watches your hole grow smaller for a second. You laugh breathily, resting your chin against the backs of your hands, one folded atop the other. “Pretty enough for you to fuck?”

“Do you have to ask if you already know?”

“I want to hear it anyway.”

His finger slips into your hole, finally, and you keen softly as he breaches the first ring of tightness. He doesn’t really move it, just tests your tightness, feels you contract around him as if to know what his cock will feel in a few moments.

“Your pussy’s too pretty not to fuck,” he manages out, and his throat sounds as tight as you feel. “Seeing it like this… makes me think there’s no way anyone can resist. It’s exactly why I can’t let anyone see you like this.”

You hum as his finger presses in deeper, and you know it’s nothing in comparison to the real thing, but you like feeling that mild stretch, the depth it reaches all the same. “How should we let them know, then? That I’m all yours.”

His finger stills, and you hum softly, swaying your hips to shake him out of whatever trance he’s in. He’s grown quiet, but there’s a thoughtfulness in this pause, like he’s seriously considering your question. You laugh lightly, ready to tell him you’re just egging him on until he fucks you, but he slips his finger out of you, leaving you clenching around nothing again. You can’t help the confused noise that comes out of you, but you at least know he isn’t completely backing away, his other hand still firmly on your ass.

“Mark, what—”

You get your answer in the thud that interrupts your question — he’s tossed his phone onto the bed, having it land next to you. Something in your blood runs hot, and your fingers tremble when you pick it up. You see yourself reflected in the blackened screen — excitement in your eyes, your lips glossy from your blowjob.

Mark’s silent as you let the meaning of his actions settle; wordlessly, he slips his finger into you again, followed by another one this time, and you shudder in pleasure at the difference in the stretch. He doesn’t ask, but you can tell he’s wondering if he’s gone too far— if you think he’s crazy. He lets his fingers stay anchored in you, unmoving, waiting for you to say something, but from where he is, he just can’t know the smile that passes your face.

Finally, he tries to speak up. “We don’t have to— I just meant—”

“What’s your passcode?”

He breathes out, the exhale quivering as much as you probably are. “Your birthday.”

Your smile only widens when you tap the screen to life and see a picture of you — you don’t even remember when he’d taken it, but it’s a shot of you sprawled on his bed, bundled in his blanket and reading something that looks oddly like your textbook for your European Renaissance History class. It’s grainy and dimly lit, a stolen photograph of you, but it makes your heart swell, and you laugh lightly as you key in your birthday; the screen unlocks, allowing you access to all his applications.

“What’s funny?”

“Just thinking about how you should replace this wallpaper.”

“To what?” He sounds bemused.

“The view of me you have now.”

His fingers curl in you, pressing down against your walls, and you push your hips back in a bid for more friction; you hear him hiss out a ‘fuck’ under his breath, and his hand digs harder into the flesh of your ass.

You open Mark’s contacts, scrolling down aimlessly. Most of the names, you don’t recognize, but you see a few familiar ones crop up here and there. He doesn’t ask, only starts pumping his fingers into you in quiet anticipation, wondering how far you’re willing to take it, how much you’ve bought into this crazy idea.

“Mark,” you call out, and he hums in response. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“With my life.”

“So if I called Donghyuck right now—” His fingers hook into you, the delicious pressure on your walls making you squeak instead of finish your sentence immediately. You twist your torso to meet his eyes, and you’re slightly surprised but not at all displeased to see something crazed lingering in his gaze. “How much of a show would you want to put on for him?”

He shifts his weight, his knee sinking into the mattress as he slots it between your legs. This change in position allows him to angle his fingers a little differently, driving down into you with a force that makes you squirm. You almost forget you’ve asked him something again until he leans in closer, his murmur almost drowned out by the slick sounds of his finger pressing into your hole.

“Just… enough for him to know you’ve always been mine.”

Your thumbs are shaking when you scroll through his contacts again, up and down until you find the right name — Lee Donghyuck — and Mark watches you intently, wordlessly, as you press his number, start the call, and put it on speaker.

The wait feels like an eternity, with Mark’s finger slipping in and out of you in a steady, languid pace as you watch the line connect, but in reality, Donghyuck really only answers after the fourth ring. “Yo, Mark.”

His voice is casual, lacking in any sort of expectation; you can hear explosions and gunshots in the background, and you’re willing to bet he’s in the middle of an action movie. You’re proven right when you hear random English babbling soon after.

“Hi, Hyuck.”

“___________?” He sounds genuinely confused that it’s you that greets him. “Where’s Mark? You okay?”

“He’s right here with me; don’t worry.” Your voice is a soft croon, and he has to lower the volume of the television to be able to hear you better. “We’re totally fine. What are you up to?”

“Watching Resident Evil. Uh, is there a reason you called?”

You want to draw out the lie of something casual for as long as you can, but Mark doesn’t let you. His fingers push, suddenly forceful, into you, and you let out a soft cry into the receiver. You look back at him, eyes wide with amusement, and he shrugs, having at least enough sense to look slightly abashed at his experiment.

One moment, you’re listening to a female voice shout something, and the next, Donghyuck’s side of the call is silent except for his breathing. When you don’t bother explaining what had just happened, he takes matters into his own hands.

“Hello?”

He sounds equal parts affronted and amused, like the shock of it has tickled him. You can’t help it; you laugh too, but it’s quickly cut off by another whine when Mark pulls his fingers out. Donghyuck makes an incredulous noise.

“Now, what the fuck is all this about, you freaks?”

“You kept wondering why I ended up asking Mark out,” you evade his question with another one. “Should I tell you why, if you’re that curious?”

“No way. Have fun, weirdos,” he laughs, and the line goes dead a second after.

You snort out a laugh, and Mark mumbles something that sounds vaguely like that was crazy before he leans down and presses a kiss to the small of your back. You make to turn so you can finally face him, but you’re distracted when his phone screen lights up again, and Donghyuck’s name flashes across it.

You exchange amused glances before you pick up the call, and you don’t even get a ‘hello’ out when his voice rings out, sharp and clear.

“But pretending I am,” he says, as though he hadn’t hung up the call a few seconds ago. “Exactly what kind of answer would I get?”

“The kind that’ll hopefully shut you up for good,” Mark pipes in instead of you.

“What’s that even going to sound like?” Already, Donghyuck’s activated whatever toggle in him that gets him to push Mark’s buttons. This time, though, you can’t say it works against you; you feel Mark inch closer to you, and a moment later, the fat tip of his cock nudges against your entrance. “I bet you can’t even get her to yawn, man.”

Mark doesn’t have to respond; you do it for him when he pushes in, torturously slow, as if to draw out your moan. It works a little too well, with you keening into the phone, and yet no part of you is acting for his sake. As familiar as the stretch is, it’s not something you’ve ever been able to commit to memory fully, and it feels like a new breaching of your tightness each time. Your legs fold in slightly, a useless movement that attempts to get you adjusted to his size faster, but Mark interprets it as discomfort, his hands tightening on your hips.

“You okay?” He sounds genuinely worried for a second, forgetting that Donghyuck’s still on the line. Your cheek brushes against his sheets as you nod, trying to meet his eye even in this position to let him know you’re being honest.

“Fucking big, Mark.” You hear Donghyuck tsk from his end, and you laugh breathlessly. “You don’t like knowing he’s big?”

“I just hate that fucker,” Donghyuck quips back easily, but there’s no seriousness in his voice. If anything, it sounds a little raspy, with him clearing his throat soon afterward.

“Well, I’m crazy about him,” you whisper into the call, and your breathing hitches as Mark finally bottoms out, groaning at your tightness. “I’m crazy about the way he touches me, the way he tastes. I’m crazy about how big his cock is, how deep it gets when he’s inside me, how he stretches me out — fuck—”

Your verbal rampage is cut short by a loud moan as Mark draws his hips back and pushes forcefully into you; you haven’t fully adjusted, and you’re even tighter now from what you’re saying, so the friction inside you is nothing short of delicious. He starts a pattern of thrusts, not bothering to build up from his usual slow and steady pace — hearing you talk that way and knowing that Donghyuck is listening is enough to get him to abandon self-imposed restrictions.

“Mark,” you whine out, accidentally pushing the phone a little further away as you reach out blindly for him behind you, and he catches your wrist to let you know he’s there. “Mark, fuck, it feels so good—”

You tighten around him as if to prove your words, and he growls in response. You find yourself having to press your cheek in a little harder into the mattress as he gathers your wrists together into one hand, pinning them to your lower back, and it’s with that hold on you that he leverages his thrusts, pumping into you a little harder each time.

You’re not completely unaware of your surroundings, but it takes a while for you to process the sounds coming from the phone’s speaker — labored breathing, the sound of a zipper being pulled down. You want to wonder if this is working a little too well, but nothing comes from your mouth apart from soft whimpers, and it’s all the cue Mark needs to be the one to fill in the relative silence himself.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he whispers, and you feel his lips press between your shoulder blades. It feels like a chaste kiss at first, but he leaves his breath there, still flitting over your skin as he continues to speak. “I’ll never get tired of how pretty you are — how pretty you always sound for me. Doesn’t she sound pretty, Hyuck?”

“Fucking pretty,” Donghyuck agrees, though his voice sounds somewhat distant. You can only sob back a quiet ‘fuck me, harder, harder,’ in response.

“Can you imagine how much prettier she looks under me?” It’s almost a full-blown conversation now, but even if Mark’s addressing Donghyuck, the rest of his attention’s fully on you. He adjusts his stance, still keeping his hold around your wrists as he angles himself deeper into you, causing you to cry out and squirm in pleasure. With your face pressed against the bed and his weight driving down into you, you feel utterly trapped, in the best kind of way. Mark, in the way he is now, is inescapable, almost incorrigible, and he pistons deeper into your pussy, his free hand brushing your hair away from your shoulder so he can leave a kiss against it. “Bent over, legs spread just a little, all for me to take. Pretty little hole wet for me, and so fucking tight. Can you imagine that?”

“I’m doing it right now.”

“It’s a thousand times better in person. Trust me.”

The same hand slips between your thighs, two fingers spreading your folds apart; the middle one circles your clit in a pace that matches his thrusts, sudden and shocking, and you arch your back upwards slightly with a choked noise. He finally releases your wrists, and you claw at the sheets helplessly to keep yourself somehow upright as the force of Mark’s hips, their impact against the backs of your thighs, pushes you forward, closer to the phone again. The stimulation is merciless, endless, and in the haze of your pleasure, you wonder if you should make Mark a little more jealous everyday if it gets him to act this way.

“Mark, I…. I’ve been— s-since—”

“Not yet,” he whispers, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as if to bring you back to reality. You shudder at the pain, the pleasure that accompanies it, and when you squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, you notice that a few tears escape your eyes. “Hold out for me a bit, okay? Please. It’s not enough. Not yet enough.”

You wonder if ‘enough’ is a concept the both of you even understand when it comes to wanting each other; already, you feel desire pooling in your stomach, threatening to spill from you, and clenching around him isn’t helping you stop it the way your body seems to think it’s supposed to. It also doesn’t help that Mark’s fingers are relentless, one still drawing tight, heavy circles around your clit, and the other creeping up under your shirt to tug down the cup of your bra, letting a breast spill into his warm palm. He kneads with an unusual — but not unpleasant — roughness, and you squeak out incoherently as he tweaks at the hardened bud of your nipple, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger.

“Hold on for me a little,” he continues murmuring, even after you shake your head and whisper ‘can’t’ to him over and over. “Do it for me. Tell Donghyuck — tell him how good it feels. How much you want to keep feeling me inside you.”

You don’t even know what to say; the pleasure that washes over you, the new kind of roughness that Mark exhibits has you drawing a blank, and you can only whine in a last attempt at protest, only for your tongue to start moving on autopilot, fueled by your want.

“It’s not enough,” you echo — and even if it feels like it is, even if it feels even more than you can possibly handle, something tells you that it’s true. “Not enough — need to feel you more, Mark. God, I want to feel you stretch me out, fuck my little hole into the shape of your cock— until no one else can fuck me but you—”

“What,” Donghyuck breathes out, his exhale coming across as static. “The fuck.”

You don’t have to explain; your babbling’s doing most of the work in that regard anyway, and you can tell by the wet, staccato noises on the other end that Donghyuck can easily piece together the scenario anyway. He’s jacking off to the both of you, something in your mind whispers, and the notion of that alone has you tightening around Mark’s cock. The change doesn’t go unnoticed, and his fingers sink deeper into your flesh; you cry out softly when you feel a jolt of pleasure as he gives your clit a sudden pinch.

“How much tighter can you get?” He sounds incredulous but also, interestingly, proud — there’s a smug tinge to his voice that arouses you even more. “Does it feel that good?”

“Fuck, yes,” you breathe out, the syllables quivering in your throat. “So good I’m going to lose my mind. Let me — God, please, let me—”

“Not yet,” Mark mumbles, and you whimper as he slows and slips out of you, his hand gently rubbing your folds in what feels like comfort — a small apology for his overt enthusiasm that you don’t even really need. “Just a little more. I need to see it.”

“See what?” Donghyuck’s voice is barely above a whisper, hoarse and pretty much muffled by the sound of his hand pumping his own shaft. Your head’s light, so your body moves on its own when Mark inches away slightly, giving you room to turn yourself around and lay on your back. You’ve barely even settled when he lifts your hips, dragging you closer to him and easing your thighs apart to slot himself between your legs.

His cock weighs heavy, pressed up against your folds, and he pushes his hips in a superficial thrust to get them to spread. His eyes fall briefly on your swollen clit, the wetness that you left on his shaft, even more of it still leaking from your hole. When he looks back up at you, there’s something triumphant in his gaze.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he coos, so lovingly it’d be hard to imagine his cock still sliding against your folds if you couldn’t feel it yourself. “I’ll never get enough of your perfect pussy — so perfect that it was made to take me.”

“See what?” Donghyuck presses, an impatience now coloring his voice. Mark chuckles, nodding at you and mouthing silently. Tell him.

Your inhale’s shaky, quivering like the rest of your body, and you don’t ever break away from Mark’s gaze, even as you speak.

“His cock fucking me in my stomach.”

Donghyuck’s ‘Jesus fucking Christ’ is drowned out by your cry of need as Mark pushes back into you. There’s no lag time now, no wait for any kind of adjustment; he takes you in one motion, until you feel his hips hit the backs of your thighs again. Your walls flutter around him, unable to process his size fully, and all that comes out of you is a string of messy mewls that’s constantly interrupted by the wet sounds of his thrusts.

Your body feels almost weightless, the only thing you can understand being the feeling of his cock pumping into you, stretching you out further. You’re only able to shake yourself out of the reverie when you feel his hands push back against your thighs, folding you in half, before they crowd atop your stomach.

“God, I need to feel it,” he groans out, his palms skimming under your navel, searching. “Please — do it for me.”

Even with your brain muddled, you don’t even have to try to figure it out; you let him feel it every time he asks. You inhale, deep and slow, until your stomach sinks, and the walls of your stomach flatten against his cock, which pauses briefly in its movements as he revels in the newfound feeling.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, and you flush in pleasure, in satisfaction at his praise. “Love seeing my cock inside you.”

He adjusts himself before he starts pumping into you again, burying his shaft all the way to the hilt each time; each thrust is followed by a soft sob from you, and you reach out, planting your hands on top of his. You obviously can’t feel his cock under your palms, but you don’t have to anyway; the fit’s tight enough that it feels, ridiculously, like he’s fucking your whole body, like he’s pressing into the deepest part of your core. You just want him to feel it more — the movement of the bulge under his hands, the resistance it has to push through to get to your stomach.

“Love feeling me inside you,” he continues, and his breathing stutters then, signaling that he’s also barely hanging on. “Love seeing how pretty you look when I rearrange your insides.”

You mouth out a disbelieving ‘what the fuck’ that earns you a simple smile, but Mark’s unrelenting in his movements anyway, his palms completely covering your stomach.

“Dude, I wanna see it too,” Donghyuck reminds you both of his presence when his voice comes through the speaker. “Put her on video.”

“No way,” comes Mark’s swift, firm reply. Donghyuck makes a noise of protest. “This is just for me.”

“Selfish as hell, calling me without really sharing.”

“The point wasn’t really ever to share.”

Mark’s hands suddenly press down on your stomach, and you stifle a soft scream; the pressure increases tenfold, as does the tightness of the fit, his cock brushing against your walls in a way that makes you feel breathless — it makes you feel used. Your hands fly up, fingers locking behind his neck, and you squirm under him, knowing fully well that you can’t escape anyway — not that you really want to, anyway.

“Mark,” you warn him again, your voice thin and airy. “I can’t anymore — I really—”

“I got you,” he murmurs — something you’ve come to learn he always says, always wants to let you know. He’ll be here until you break, until you can’t take anymore. “One second, okay?”

“Bro, what? Are you serious—” Even Donghyuck sounds confused, although his voice is tight too; he must be close, your mind weakly registers, but it doesn’t matter. Mark, albeit reluctantly, slips one hand away from your stomach — for a good cause, he must think, and you learn what it is when he ends the call, effectively cutting off Donghyuck’s complaints. Your eyes widen in confusion, but all Mark’s gaze is to you is reassuring, gentle, and he leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips before he answers your unspoken question.

“Can’t let him hear you cum,” he murmurs against your mouth. “That’s only for me, isn’t it?”

You nod, letting the movement of it brush your lips against his. “You’re the only one I’ll cum for — the only one that can make me.”

Above your head, his phone is trilling noisily; the vibrations course through your back, weak but persistent, and for some reason, it heightens your arousal all the more. Mark ignores it completely, single-mindedly focused on pistoning into you with the bulk of his strength. His hands push down just under your navel, increasing your awareness of the feeling of his cock, him fucking you, coaxing out your climax.

“Do it. Show me how pretty you look when you cum for me.”

You don’t think it’s possible for him to inject any more strength into his movements, but he proves you wrong time and time again; the wind’s knocked out of you as he braces himself and fucks you harder, sharper into the bed, and the only noises you can make are weak whimpers and choked sobs. Your mind’s so overrun with pleasure that your climax hits your body first before your mind fully parses it; your back arches again, and you mewl out something broken, something that sounds like his name as you come undone.

Mark still doesn’t relent, the tremble in your legs somehow only inspiring him to put more power in his thrusts. Even through the dazedness that comes with all the stimulation, you can see the fine details you’ve come to know so well — the tightness in his jaw, the growing flush across his collar, the quick heaving of his chest. He’s close too, so close he’s just holding himself back out of sheer force of will to make sure he can watch you come down from your climax completely. You don’t know why he has to, but you want to see him let go too, and you scramble for words, for more touch — pressing your thighs firm against his sides to keep him close, locked — just to get him there.

“Will you mark me up one last time?” You breathe out. He reacts almost instantaneously, moving to lean down and press his mouth against the still-untouched side of your neck, but your palm on his chest stops him from doing so. Surprise crosses his face, followed by slight confusion. You squeeze your thighs against him, trying to make your point, but even then, his brow furrows. “Mark me — inside.”

His eyes widen, and his hips stutter before they resume pace, his fingers digging into your stomach almost painfully as he tries to keep himself in control. “I— no, you know I can’t…”

“Do you want to?” You egg him on, your hand dropping from his chest to land on top of his again, adding to the pressure until you’re sure he can feel every small movement, every throb of his own cock inside you. “You can, you know — make me yours, from the inside out.”

“God — we can’t; you know we’d be in so much trouble.”

“But I’d let you anyway, if you wanted to. Do you ever think about it, Mark?” Your fingers toy with his, almost like you’re having a casual conversation instead of a situation in which he’s deep inside you, already aching for release. “Fucking your cum deep into me, letting it seep into my stomach — making sure no one else can fill me up?”

“Jesus,” he growls, and he reluctantly slips his hands out from under yours to grip your thighs. Realistically, he has enough strength to peel them away, have you release him, but his hold just tightens, not really making any motion to do so. You see the thought flash in his eyes, serious even just for a moment. He thinks about it all the time.

“Think about it,” you urge, your voice soft but close to a demand. “And every time you do, remember one day, you will — because you’re the only one that can.”

He tilts his head back, letting a growl rip from his throat, and he finally manages to push your thighs apart. You let him, let them fall apart so he can slip out of you. You watch him shift upwards, his knees on either side of your torso, and you’re met with the erotic sight of him fisting his cock in front of you, urging himself into completion. You do the only thing you can think of to help; you open your mouth wide, pushing your tongue out, silently asking for his load.

“Even when you do that, you’re fucking pretty,” he groans out, and his thumb presses his cock down, resting the underside flush against your tongue as he rocks his hips. “How much prettier are you going to look with my cum all over your face?”

He doesn’t have to wait long to find out, and you don’t have to respond; he gets the answer he wants with one last thrust against your tongue, and you close your eyes briefly, allowing yourself to drink in the taste, the smell of his cum as it streaks across your cheeks, all over your lips. You hear his release as it comes too — the soft rumble from his chest, the release of air that gently whistles through his teeth.

When you open your eyes again, Mark is looking down at you, a warm flush creeping up his cheeks and ears again; he’s breathless, panting as he comes down from his high. From the daze of his climax, a slightly sheepish look of apology crosses his face, and he reaches down, seemingly without any real plan, to clean you up, only to withdraw, slightly bemused, when you shake your head.

A laugh escapes him when you shimmy out from under him, straighten up, and extend your arms upward, puckering your lips in slight demand. You think he might reject you, but Mark doesn’t even hesitate longer than a second. He swoops down, capturing your lips in a fierce kiss, and your thighs press together tight as you enjoy the feeling of his tongue swiping away his cum from your bottom lip before he takes it between his teeth, sucking softly as if to clean you completely.

When he pulls away, his head dips into your shoulder; again, his face turns to press against the mark he’d left, and his teeth nip at the soft bruise that’s already begun to blossom. Satisfied by the soft noise you make at the sensitivity you feel from the contact, he breathes out, long and steady, against your skin.

“Just… can’t get enough of you,” he finally exhales, pressing another kiss to your neck; it’s gentler, situated just under your jaw.

“You don’t ever have to think about having enough,” you whisper, leaving a light nuzzle against his shoulder. “Just always think about having more.”

He lets out a breathy laugh, but he nods, accepting your offer anyway. A moment of silence passes, where you’re wrapped up in each other, his weight against you in a blanket of heat, and it stretches to what almost feels like an eternity — if not for the phone suddenly ringing again, Donghyuck’s name coming up on the ID. You both start, and Mark reaches over, fumbling with the sides of his device before he finds and toggles the silent switch.

“Seriously,” he grumbles, watching the call drop just for it to start up again, the screen flashing.

“We kind of left him hanging, to be fair.”

“No fairness.” Mark tosses the phone to the foot of the bed, where it lies, facedown and buzzing. “He got more than he deserved today.”

You watch him as he slips off the bed, rearranging himself before clipping his jeans button back into place. He whispers a gentle ‘be right back’ and exits the room, leaving the door only slightly ajar. You hear the water run in the bathroom, and a few moments later, Mark returns to your side, holding a damp towel.

He leaves a kiss after each light swipe across your face, as if to apologize for the pain he thinks he might be causing; you laugh, partly because it’s ridiculous, but mostly because you like it. He cleans your mouth last, even though there’s already nothing left, just so he has an excuse to leave a long, lasting kiss there.

You think it’s the last you’ll get for now, but he surprises you by bending down even further, hiking your shirt up your torso again. His hand rests on your thigh, keeping himself balanced as he presses a flutter of kisses around your navel, lingering at the exact spot that sits above where he knows his cock hits every time he bottoms out in you.

“One day,” he whispers into your skin before he looks up at you, his eyes shining. “I’ll really make you all mine.”

“Dummy.” Your voice is just as low, and you pull his head up again, enjoying the brush of his hair against your hand, the swoop of his jaw under your palm. “How many times do I have to tell you?”

“Every single day, considering I’ll never get tired of it.”

You hum, not one to deny him of what he asks anyway; you push him back onto his calves, climbing back onto his lap; it’s your favorite way to be near him, you decide, with almost nothing between you, almost everything of yours touching everything of his — like you fit in him perfectly. You rest your cheek against his shoulder, feeling their soft rise and fall as his breathing steadies, and you squirm a bit, if only to make sure his arms are locked securely around you — to make sure he won’t let go. Just like that, in his arms, you say it again — a truth, a fact, and a promise.

“I already am.”

[angelbarelywrites]

♡ slashers scenarios | kisses!

info;

♡ fandoms; The Boy, Halloween, Texas Chainsaw Massacre (original + 2006), Black Christmas, Dead by Daylight, slashers (general)

♡ characters; Brahms Heelshire, Micheal Myers, Thomas Hewitt, Bubba Sawyer, Billy Lenz

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡ cw; very suggestive content

♡ note; i hope to do a first meeting and kisses post for all ton of slashers, so let me know who else you wanna see! there’s already some i swapped out between the two posts just because of ideas i already had

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Brahms Heelshire

> this brat is always begging for kisses

> he’s not really one to physically initiate

> and it’s secretly because he loves when you follow his orders

> but he loves all kinds of kisses, and he’s usually content with more chaste ones

> when you do make out though, he is sloppy

> he’s still so touch starved and sensitive

> so it can go from just a long peck to him panting and huffing surprisingly quickly

> and he likes when you praise him for it

> he loves when you pin his hands while you kiss him, laying beneath you as you straddle his chest

> but he loves pawing at you almost as much- in the same position of course

> loves receiving marks

> especially hickies on his neck, like a dumb horny teen

Micheal Myers

> he’s not huge on kissing, or other non-sexual contact

> he’ll make you ask for it

> sometimes even beg

> and then he’ll roll up his mask and kiss you, rough and breathless

> he’s a biter, on your lips, neck, anywhere

> and the more you whine the more he marks you

> all that being said

> he loves when you kiss the mask

> you can swear you’ve heard him groan a bit from it before

> he’ll feel you up as you do too, making it hot and heavy despite how one sided the contact is

> he loves grabbing your throat, pushing you against the wall and kissing you so hard it stuns you

> sometimes to get what he wants, because he’s a malewife manipulator

> but sometimes because he loves the hazy eyed face you make as he pulls away

Thomas Hewitt

> oh my god loves when you kiss him

> forehead kisses, cheek kisses, kisses through the mask, kisses pressed to his jaw, etc etc

> hell you lean over and kiss his arm and he’s giddy- in his silent and almost unnoticeable way

> he loves kissing your neck in particular

> partially because he can hide- the insecurity is hard to shake

> but also because he loves coaxing pretty noises out of you

> freaks out when he leaves marks- but also loves the way you bruise after you reassure him it’s okay

> he loves when you lie on top of him, lazily kissing him between giggles

> it makes you seem so small (because gd, he’s 6’9 and built like a brick house), and he can grab your ass all he wants

Bubba Sawyer

> might be the Biggest Kiss Enjoyer out there

> he loves giving kisses all over!!!

> but especially loves peppering your face with kisses until you’re giggling too hard to let him continue

> he also loves getting kisses, because ofc

> he likes when you kiss his tummy, on top of everything else he can be insecure about his build

> and his hands- chances are y’all also have a huge size difference, and he’s always in awe of how little your cheek is in his hand. so he loves when you lean and kiss his palm

> his favorite kisses are when he picks you up and twirls you around

> and then he settles you in his arms and kisses you sweetly

> not too sexual but intimate

Billy Lenz

> this guy 🙄 in a word, frantic

> there is no peck on the lips with Billy Lenz

> whatever your intention, if you don’t pull away literally immediately, it’s getting dirty fast

> he’s all tongue and teeth and giggles

> like Brahms he’s incredibly pent up

> but baby boy is unintentionally (and sometimes intentionally) aggressive

> marks you up like it’s his job- hickies and bites and even sometimes bruises from holding your hips too hard because he’s stronger than he looks

> grabs your hair and tugs your head back to look at you and tell you how pretty you look and babble weird incoherent shit

> he loves you in his lap, facing him and practically grinding up on you as he lick lick licks your neck and any other skin he can between kisses

[honey-milk-depresso]

Hi, there! :D

First time ordering here so if it's not too much trouble I would like to request:

How the Diasomnia gang handles jealousy when they see that their crush (the prefect) is starting to gain suitors from other students? And what do they do about it?

Thank you, I really like your TWST Headcanons, bye👍✨🌼

Doing requests until 1 Feb! Please see my pinned post and read the request rules on the navi! Thank you!🩷

Diasomnia getting jealous of their crush getting suitors

Malleus Draconia

He doesn’t wanna be jealous, but he’s so sulky. His pointed ears visibly droop when you share with him about receiving a letter from a mysterious suitor about being “in love with you” when he’s right there-

Of course, he knows it’s silly to even get jealous, but he can’t help it. So he kinda just… don’t say it out loud, but there’s this intimidating aura around him when he sees the letter but he’s actually just grumpy and being a sulky baby it’s almost funny.

You might need to kiss his cheek or ruffle his hair to see his ears point up again and see his face return back to its soft, normal look he gives you.

Kind of like a lightbulb,

or a puppy- <3

Lilia Vanrouge

It’s really hard to tell if he’s jealous, and it’s hard for him to get jealous anyways.

If he’s actually really jealous, he would show very subtle, lighthearted signs of him being jealous of your suitor. So maybe he’s just envious.

He’ll float to you, playfully pouting while resting his chin on the top of your head and wrap his arms around you.

“S/o, hmmm… you like me more though, right?~” he muses, smiling playfully afterwards when he sees you blushing.

He actually trusts you a lot and knows that you like him this way than the suitors who give you the letters and is just messing around. <3

Silver

Silver blinks once. Twice. Then lets it deep in. Oh. Oh…

At first, he feels a little sulky, but he’s not overly expressive of his jealousy and just lets it happen. He thinks you probably like your suitor and then he gets a bit insecure about it. Love can bloom anywhere, Lilia told him, so maybe you’ll find love with that suitor.

God, no Silver, your crush loves yOU TOO DONT BE SAD PLEASEEENKAJDNF-

You have to tell him you really don’t like the suitor that way. When he looks back at you with a glimmer of hope he wants to quickly push down, kiss him back softly to rekindle that hope again. <3

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek is… sceptical to say the least. He keeps asking so many questions about the suitor and the letter they sent to you.

“Where did you get it?” “Why is there no name on it??” “HUMAN, YOU MIGHT BE IN DANGER, THIS LETTER IS SUSPICIOUS-”

In actuality, he just wants to see every reason to NOT find the suitor because he got jealous and was kinda scared if you actually find him and fall in love. He truly believes Lilia’s “you can find love anywhere” and he genuinely hopes you don’t like the suitors because, well, helikesyoualotandhereallylikesyoumorthanheshould-

Please just kiss him- <3

Reblogs help! ^^

[miley1442111]

picking- s.reid

-----------------------

-----------------------

a/n: i haven't posted pookie bear spencer in a while so here's something i cooked up

summary: spencer notices one of your issues, and is determined to fix it.

pairing: spencer reid x fem! reader

warnings: SKIN PICKING, mentions of reader's fingers bleeding, etc. fluff, spencer being worried about you.

-----------------------

Spencer Reid was an observant person, he had to be. It was his job to be observant. So, how had he missed this?

You. His girlfriend of 8 months, 3 weeks, 2 days, 2 hours, 23 minutes, and give or take, fourteen seconds. How had he missed it?

He wanted in horror as you bit at the skin around your fingers. “Baby,” he whispered, his voice hushed since he didn't want to wake anyone asleep on the jet. 

“What?” You asked, confused. 

“Stop picking at your skin,” he all but scolded. 

You rolled your eyes. “It’s not a big deal, just a habit.”

“A bad habit,” he added. 

“Alright, a bad habit,” you chuckled. It wasn’t a big deal, it never had been. It was always something you’d just done. Maybe it was to deal with your anxiety or stress, and yes, you went through plasters like a fucking hospital, but it was jus that, a habit. Not a big deal. “No big deal.”

Spencer’s lips parted into a look of shock. “It’s a very big deal,” he shook his head. “Your finger is bleeding!” 

You shrugged and grabbed your bag, taking out what looked like a small pencil case. It turned out to be a holder for your plasters, medical tape, and scissors  (you had wrapping your finger up down to an art). You started to work immediately, as Spencer watched in intrigue and slight horror as you simply wrapped your finger up. As if it was nothing. 

“Y/n,” he sighed. “That’s not good for you.”

“Spencer,” you sighed, a soft smile on your face. Though you adored the act of kindness he was showing you, you really didn’t mind the issue. “It’s truly not a big deal to me.”

He huffed. “Please-”

“Spencer, stop,” your patience was going thin. It was fine. It was coping. “Please.”

He nodded, but his thoughts were plagued with ways to stop it, and trust me, he was going to stop it. 

-----------------------

The next week, he stocked his apartment with plasters and medical tape, but also fidget toys for you to fiddle with instead. When you came over you appreciated the gesture, but none of the toys worked as well as your regular picking. Spencer was at a loss, and he  had no idea what to do. 

-----------------------

As you lay in bed one morning, Spencer’s arms wrapped around you, you found his hands drifting to yours.

“Your poor fingers,” he whispered and you chuckled. 

“I think I’ll survive,” you laughed. 

He huffed, and didn’t push the subject further. 

-----------------------

One day, he finally made leeway. You took to one of the fidget toys he got you, a peeling rock that had been his last resort. 

“This is great!” You smiled. “Thanks Spence.”

“No problem,” he smiled back. “So you’ll stop picking at your skin?”

You sighed. “I’ll try, but I can’t just bring this anywhere-”

“There’s a smaller one too. I got it, but I thought you’d prefer the bigger one for being at home,” he cut you off, meaning there was no arguing. He really had thought of everything.

“You really just think of everything, don’t you?” You chuckled. 

Spencer shrugged. “Fail to plan, plan to fail.”

You laughed, and pressed your lips to his. “I love you.”

And that made it worth it. Months and months of worry and trials. You loved him. He loved you. Your sweet smile and kind words, god, he thought he’d go to the ends of the Earth if you asked him to, just because you wanted him to. 

And he was ok with that. You loved him.

-----------------------

criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, marvel, top gun, challengers, the bear, the hunger games, obx+)

criminal minds taglist :) (message me or comment to be added :))

@princess76179

@khxna

[moonselune]

Headcanon about what a lazy morning looks like with each of the female companions? In camp or post Elder Brain doesn't matter.

I did it as little snippets because I simply could not contain myself

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Karlach:

The first rays of dawn filtered into your shared tent, casting a soft glow on the canvas walls. The air was still cool, but the warmth radiating from Karlach more than made up for it. She lay sprawled on her side, her fiery hair fanned out on the pillow, her breathing steady and even. The sight of her like this—completely at ease—was enough to make your heart skip a beat.

But peace was fleeting when it came to Karlach’s mornings. As her eyes fluttered open, she stretched her arms high above her head, her muscles shifting with the motion, and let out a groggy yet determined groan.

“Alright, babe, time to get moving,” she mumbled, already swinging her legs over the edge of the bedroll.

Oh no, you weren’t having that. Not today.

Before she could rise, you flung your arms around her middle, pulling her back down with a playful grunt.

“Absolutely not,” you murmured, burying your face in the curve of her neck. “Stay. It’s too early, and you’re too comfortable to go anywhere.”

Karlach laughed, her voice husky and warm. “C’mon, sunshine, just a quick run to shake the cobwebs loose. I’ll be back before you know it.”

You tightened your hold, resting your chin on her shoulder. “Nope. You’re officially trapped. Sorry, I don’t make the rules.”

She turned her head, smirking as her sharp teeth glinted in the morning light. “Oh yeah? And what are you going to do to stop me, huh?”

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. “I’ll bribe you with all my love and maybe a few promises here and there. How’s that?”

Her laughter filled the tent as she relented, settling back down into your embrace. “Alright, you’ve got my attention. What kind of promises are we talking about here?”

“Anything you want,” you replied, tracing small circles on her arm. “I’ll make you breakfast for the rest of this week, rub your shoulders, maybe even kiss every bit of your face.”

Karlach turned fully to face you now, her grin softening into something tender. “Babe, you’re making it really hard to resist you right now.”

“That’s the plan,” you said, matching her smile.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, murmuring sleepy words back and forth, trading kisses that ranged from playful pecks to lingering brushes of lips. Karlach would occasionally make a half-hearted attempt to get up, but each time, you pulled her back down, giggling as she surrendered with exaggerated defeat.

Eventually, though, her stomach growled loudly enough to interrupt the peace, and she laughed. “Okay, okay, you win. I’ll stay lazy—but only if I get breakfast.”

“Deal,” you agreed, releasing her with an exaggerated sigh of loss. “But you’re fetching it. I’m too busy being cozy to move.”

“Oh, so I’m a servant now? So much for those sweet promises” she teased, pulling on a loose tunic and giving you a playful glare. “Fine. You just sit there looking cute. I’ll be back.”

She leaned down to kiss your forehead before ducking out of the tent. You lay back, basking in the warmth she’d left behind and listening to the distant sounds of camp stirring awake. When Karlach returned, she was balancing two plates loaded with breakfast—a chaotic mix of bread, cheese, and fruits.

“Feast time!” she announced, plopping down beside you on the bedroll.

The two of you dug in, making a complete mess of the blankets as crumbs scattered and sticky fruit juices dripped onto the fabric.

“Alright, who’s the slob now?” you teased, pointing at the crumbs collecting on her lap.

“Oh, please,” she shot back, her mouth half-full. “You’re the one with jam on your chin!”

You reached up to wipe it off, but Karlach leaned in, licking the spot clean with a quick swipe of her tongue.

“Hey!” you laughed, swatting at her.

“Can’t let good food go to waste,” she replied, grinning as she kissed you again, tasting of sweet fruit and warmth.

By the time you’d finished eating, both of you were laughing so hard your sides hurt, teasing each other about who had made the biggest mess. Crumbs covered the blankets, and there was a suspicious smudge of butter on Karlach’s cheek, which she refused to admit was her doing.

“Alright,” she said finally, leaning back with a contented sigh. “This is the life. Lazy mornings, breakfast in bed, and you. What more could I need?”

You smiled, reaching out to tangle your fingers with hers. “I could ask the same thing.”

The two of you stayed like that for a while longer, sharing quiet moments of laughter and warmth, before finally deciding to face the day. But in your heart, you knew these mornings with Karlach were what you’d treasure most.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Minthara:

Lazy mornings with Minthara were never truly lazy, not at first. She was a woman of discipline, a warrior who thrived on structure, and mornings, in her mind, were for action, not indulgence. You had long since learned that the battle to keep her in bed was one that required cunning, strategy—and occasionally, shameless dramatics.

This morning was no different. Minthara had already stirred, her sharp gaze fixed on the faint light spilling into the room, her body tense as though preparing for an unseen battle.

“I have things to attend to,” she said firmly, her voice a silken blade. She was already reaching for her armor, her movements precise, deliberate.

You, however, were ready for this. Sliding closer to her, you tangled your legs with hers and let out the most exaggerated sigh you could muster. “Oh, but who will keep me company in this cold, lonely bed? The pillows can only do so much, and the silk sheets—soft as they are—lack the warmth of a lover’s embrace.”

Minthara paused, her silver-white hair falling into her face as she turned to glare at you, though there was no true malice in her eyes—just the faintest flicker of amusement.

You pressed on, emboldened. “Perhaps I’ll dream of someone to hold me. Someone strong, someone fierce, someone who could rule both the bed and the world…”

Her hand darted out, grabbing your chin and tilting your face to hers.

“Enough,” she hissed, her crimson eyes narrowing. Then, before you could respond, her lips were on yours, silencing your teasing with a kiss that was both possessive and electrifying. When she pulled back, her voice was low and dangerous, though the smirk playing on her lips betrayed her. “If you dare dream of another, I’ll ensure you never wake again.”

“Veiled threats already?” you teased, leaning into her touch. “And here I thought we were just starting the day.”

Her laugh was soft and dark as she finally relented, sinking back into the bed and pulling you close. Her arms wrapped around you, and one hand found its way to your hair, her fingers idly combing through it.

“You are insufferable,” she murmured, though her tone held no real bite. “But it seems I’ve been bested—for now.”

You grinned, pressing a kiss to her collarbone. “That’s all I wanted to hear.”

The two of you lay there for a time, her body a warm, reassuring presence against yours. Minthara rarely allowed herself these moments of vulnerability, but when she did, they were all the more precious.

“What shall we do with our day, then?” she asked, her voice softer now, contemplative.

“Conquer the world, perhaps?” you replied, tracing idle patterns on her arm. Her lips quirked up in a rare smile.

“Ambitious. But tell me, where shall we start? The surface? The Underdark? Or perhaps,” she added, her tone teasing, “we’ll begin with breakfast.”

You chuckled. “We’ll start wherever you want. Though ruling the Underdark together does have a nice ring to it.”

Her eyes softened as she considered the thought. “You truly wish to remain by my side, even there? In the dark, where few can thrive?”

“Wherever you go, Minthara, I’ll follow,” you said earnestly.

She regarded you for a moment, her expression unreadable, before pressing another kiss to your forehead. “Then we shall carve our future together, one conquest at a time.”

The morning passed in quiet conversation, your shared ambitions weaving a tapestry of possibility. For once, Minthara allowed herself to stay, her fingers brushing through your hair as she spoke of her dreams for the Underdark and the life you would share there.

As the light grew stronger, you knew she would soon insist on rising, but for now, you had her. You had this. And that was more than enough.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Lae'zel:

Lazy mornings with Lae'zel were always a battle of wills. She was a Githyanki warrior through and through, her mind and body conditioned for discipline, combat, and constant motion. Staying in bed was, to her, a waste of precious time. But you had your methods—methods that she begrudgingly admitted she was impressed by, even if she would never say it aloud.

It always began the same way. The first rays of sunlight would filter into the tent, and Lae'zel, ever vigilant, would stir. Her muscles would tense as if prepared for a fight, and she would begin to shift beneath the blankets.

“I must rise,” she would say, her voice sharp but still laced with the drowsiness of sleep.

“Oh no, you don’t,” you murmured, already moving. You wrapped your arms around her waist and legs, entwining your body with hers like a constricting boa. She tensed beneath your hold, her golden eyes narrowing as she tried to pull free—but you were relentless.

“Release me,” she demanded, though her tone lacked the bite it usually carried in battle.

“Not until you promise to stay,” you countered, your grip tightening just enough to keep her in place.

Her muscles flexed, and you could feel her testing your hold. But then, to your surprise, she stilled, her gaze scrutinizing you.

“You are tenacious,” she remarked, a note of approval in her voice. “Very well. I will humor you… this once.”

Satisfied, you rewarded her compliance with a flurry of kisses on her face, starting with her forehead and moving down to her cheeks.

“Good choice, Lae'zel,” you teased, planting a final kiss on the corner of her mouth. She scoffed, though the faintest hint of a smile tugged at her lips.

“Do not mistake this for weakness,” she warned, though she made no effort to pull away.

You grinned, settling beside her with your head resting on her shoulder. “Never. But now that you’re here, you owe me a story.”

“A story?” she echoed, raising a sharp brow.

“Yes. Tell me about the Astral Plane,” you said, your fingers tracing idle patterns on her arm. “I want to know what it was like. All of it.”

She hesitated for a moment, her gaze growing distant as she considered your request. Then, she began to speak, her voice steady and commanding, as if recounting a battle strategy. “The Astral Plane is unlike anything you could imagine. It is a void, vast and infinite, where time holds no dominion. The stars are not stars as you know them, but luminous beacons of psionic energy, guiding us to our conquest. The Githyanki thrive there, unbound by the laws of your world.”

You listened intently, hanging on her every word. The way she spoke of the Astral Plane, with both reverence and pride, painted vivid images in your mind.

“Did you ever look out into the void and just… wonder?” you asked softly.

She turned her head to look at you, her golden eyes narrowing slightly. “Wonder about what?”

“About what else might be out there,” you said. “Beyond the conquest. Beyond the battles. Just… what it would be like to live there, peacefully.”

She was silent for a moment, as if the question had caught her off guard. Then, she spoke, her tone quieter than before. “Peace is not a concept that the Githyanki are taught to value. But… perhaps I have wondered.”

Your heart swelled at her honesty, and you pressed a gentle kiss to her temple.

“Thank you for telling me,” you murmured.

She huffed, though her expression softened. “You are insufferable. But I find your curiosity… tolerable.”

You laughed, knowing that was the closest you’d get to a compliment. The two of you lay there for a while longer, Lae'zel continuing to share her stories of the Astral Plane while you listened with rapt attention.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Shadowheart:

Slow mornings with Shadowheart were a cherished slice of heaven to you, a rarity in your chaotic lives that you clung to. The two of you often found yourselves tangled in each other’s arms, her head resting on your chest, your fingers lazily combing through her soft, raven hair. She was slow to wake, a luxury she rarely afforded herself, but in your arms, she allowed her guard to fall.

The first hint of the morning came with the sound of Scratch’s claws clicking against the wooden floor outside the bedroom. You groaned softly, already knowing what was coming, but Shadowheart barely stirred, her breath warm against your collarbone as she shifted slightly closer to you.

Just as you expected, Scratch’s wet nose nudged at the door, and a moment later, it swung open. The loyal dog padded over, tail wagging enthusiastically. He jumped up on the bed with a happy woof, which earned a sleepy groan from Shadowheart as she stirred.

“You’re far too energetic for this hour,” you mumbled to Scratch, scratching behind his ears as he let out an eager bark.

Before you could do anything, Scratch took it upon himself to deliver his morning greeting to Shadowheart—by licking her face. Shadowheart let out a soft, sleepy hum, still half-asleep and mistaking the sensation for something else.

“Good morning to you, too, my love.” she murmured groggily, her lips quirking into a small, contented smile.

That was it. You couldn’t hold it in. Your chest shook with barely contained laughter, and when Shadowheart finally opened her eyes, she was greeted by Scratch’s happy, drooling face.

Her expression shifted from affection to realization, then to horror.

“Wait—Scratch?” she exclaimed, sitting up abruptly and wiping at her face. “I thought—! You—!”

You were absolutely losing it, your laughter bubbling up uncontrollably as you clutched your sides.

“Oh gods,” you gasped, tears forming in your eyes. “That was—oh, that was perfect!”

Shadowheart glared at you, her lips twitching in a suppressed smile despite her best efforts. “You think that’s funny?”

“Absolutely!” you managed to get out between peals of laughter.

“Fine,” she said, her voice laced with mock seriousness. Before you could react, she grabbed your shoulders, leaned in, and ran her tongue up the side of your face in one swift, deliberate motion.

You froze for a second, utterly stunned, before letting out an exaggerated sound of protest. “Shadowheart!”

“That’s what you get,” she said smugly, settling back down into the bed and pulling the blanket over herself as if nothing had happened.

Scratch, apparently pleased with himself for causing such chaos, flopped down at the foot of the bed, wagging his tail contentedly. You wiped at your face, still grinning, and turned to Shadowheart, who was now feigning sleep again.

“You’re impossible,” you said, pulling her back into your arms.

“And yet, here you are,” she murmured, her voice soft with affection as she nuzzled against you.

The rest of the morning passed in a warm haze of sleepy cuddles and light banter. Scratch eventually drifted off, his snoring filling the room, and you couldn’t help but press a soft kiss to Shadowheart’s temple.

“You know,” you whispered, “I think he likes you better than me.”

She hummed thoughtfully. “Smart dog,” she replied, and you couldn’t help but laugh all over again.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Jaheira:

The morning light filtered through the tent’s flap, casting a soft glow over Jaheira’s features. She stirred before you, as usual, her discipline refusing to let her linger in bed for too long. Her hand reached for the edge of the blanket, intending to throw it off and rise to start her day.

You rolled over, catching her wrist gently, and looked at her with a sleepy smile. “Must you be so diligent, my love? You’re not a young sprout anymore. Surely, someone of your… seasoned years needs more rest.”

Her eyebrows lifted, her lips curving into an amused but challenging smirk. “Seasoned years, is it? Careful, or I’ll show you just how much strength comes with them.”

Feigning innocence, you stretched lazily and tucked your hands behind your head.

“Oh, I’m not worried. I just thought you might need a little extra time to… recharge.” You waggled your eyebrows teasingly.

Jaheira let out a low laugh, shaking her head as she leaned down over you. “You think you’re clever, don’t you? A little fox, nipping at my heels.”

Before you could reply, her lips found yours in a kiss that was both commanding and affectionate, silencing whatever retort you had prepared. Her hands brushed along your sides, firm but gentle, leaving you breathless as she pulled back just enough to look into your eyes.

“I may be older than you, but don’t mistake that for weakness,” she murmured, her voice low and smooth.

You grinned, cheeks flushed, and wrapped your arms around her, pulling her back down onto the bed with a soft laugh. “You’ve proven your point, oh wise one. But I win this round, don’t I? You’re still here.”

Jaheira let out an exasperated sigh, though her eyes glinted with fondness. “You always get your way, don’t you?”

“I like to think of it as a gift,” you replied smugly, nuzzling into the crook of her neck.

She chuckled, shaking her head again, but didn’t make any further attempt to rise. Instead, she allowed herself to relax into your embrace, her fingers absentmindedly stroking through your hair as the two of you basked in the warmth of the moment.

“I suppose one morning spent lazing about won’t hurt,” she said after a while, her tone softer now.

“Exactly,” you murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her collarbone. “Besides, I’m selfish. I want all your mornings.”

Her hand paused in your hair, her gaze turning thoughtful as she looked down at you.

“You’re a menace, you know that?” she said, though her smile betrayed her affection.

“Your menace,” you corrected, grinning up at her.

With another indulgent sigh, Jaheira rested her head against yours, allowing herself to savor the stolen moment of peace. You both knew the world would demand your attention soon enough, but for now, you were content to remain entwined, sharing the kind of love that made all the teasing and trouble worthwhile.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

This was so cute to write, I love little fluffy things like this and I hope you guys enjoyed it too! - Seluney xox

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[purinfelix]

is it casual now? ✶⋆.˚ - joao felix

pairing - joao felix x reader summary - after yet another night spent together in secrecy, you finally build up the courage to ask Joao and uncomfortable question warnings - some angst, possibly a toxic relationship? word count - 1k

a/n: just bc ive been listening to chappell roan NONSTOP lately and realised i hadn't written a full length fic in a hot minute !!! hope u guys enjoy <333

There were a lot of people who wanted to know what kind of relationship you and Joao had.

Of course, there were endless amounts of media outlets and gossip pages that seemed to have eyes following everywhere the two of you went. It got to the point where you knew any time you were with him publicly, it would only be a few hours before your timeline was inundated with sensationalised headlines or sneakily taken candids.

Then there were the avid fans who commented on these posts, dreaming up theories that never failed to surprise you - that you were a childhood friend, a secret lover reuniting with him, or worst of all, that you were a ‘wannabe-WAG’ attempting to use Joao for his money. Perhaps most annoyingly though were your friends, who pressed endlessly for details whenever you mentioned having met up with the footballer recently despite your protests.

Sometimes it felt like all eyes were on you and your relationship - but sitting here, in a plush white hotel bathrobe on an equally plush and white hotel bed - you couldn’t help but feel as though you were the one who wanted to know most of all. You let the hand holding your phone fall to your side, heart heavy after seeing yet another gossip page post about the outing the two of you had gone on earlier the day with a headline relaying the typical narrative that you were nothing more than a gold-digging fake.

“Don’t bother with those,” you hear a soft voice behind you, Joao making his way out of the hotel bathroom in a matching bathrobe. His hair is still dripping wet from the shower and you’re almost envious of the way his skin glows in the soft ambient light. “Those idiots don’t know anything,” his tone is adamant, and you’d almost think he was being genuine.

“Well, it’s not like you tell them anything,” you mumble, barely louder than a whisper but he still catches the attitude in your tone.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he scoffs, tossing the small towel he was using to dry his hair to the ground without a care. Making his way to the other side of the bed, he lies chest-down, eyes fixed on you.

“All I’m saying is,” the regret in your voice at having brought up this tired conversation is evident but the almost daring expression on Joao’s face forces you on, “we can’t expect them not to make all these crazy theories when you’ve basically been keeping me a secret all this time.”

“Hey I thought we both agreed to keep this a secret, why is it all my fault all of a sudden?”

“It’s not, it’s just,” you sigh in frustration, eyes wandering the room - the crumpled bedsheets beneath you, your bag laying on the bedside table, contents half-spilled, your shirt laying where you had hastily thrown it - anywhere but his face.

“Just what?” he presses, and you bite your lip in a futile attempt to stop yourself from asking the question that’s been on your mind for as long as you’ve known him.

“What are we, Joao?” your gaze falls to your own lap, unable to look at the expression on his face as you’re sure it’ll only make his response sting more.

“Why are you asking me this now?” It’s clear this was the last thing he was expecting from the way he’s taken aback and slightly amused - which only frustrates you more.

“Why can’t I?”

“I mean, I thought we were just keeping this casual, you know? That’s what we agreed upon isn’t it?”

“Yeah, months ago.” You try to maintain your temper but you can’t help your voice from raising a little, “Don’t you think it’s time to reconsider that? I mean we’re a bit more than casual don’t you think? Casual doesn’t involve fancy hotel hook-ups or night time beach walks!”

“I don’t know, I mean,” his defensiveness irritates you, “You know what it’s like being a footballer, I just can’t have anything threatening my position right now. I need to focus on the game, a distraction is the last thing I need.”

“And what about me Joao? Don’t you think I’m tired of the constant slander I get every time we’re out together?” You feel your heart racing and your blood boiling, “You’ve seen the articles haven’t you?”

“Look, it’s late, I’m tired and really don’t feel like talking about this now. Can we just go to sleep? We’ll discuss this in the morning.” He doesn’t even wait for your reply before stretching out underneath the blankets with a loud fake-yawn. You just sit there slack jawed, not entirely surprised but still a little taken aback that he would just cut you off like that, in the middle of a conversation you had been rehearsing in your head for weeks like it was nothing.

You know he’s lying about discussing this in the morning but still, you reach over to turn off the lamp on your side table before slowly pulling the blanket over yourself - not like you have any other option. You make a point of turning your back to him and huffing though, too frustrated to fall asleep as your mind continues to whir with thoughts about all the things you’re going to say to him the minute you’re awake tomorrow.

That is, at least, until you feel the familiarly gentle touch of Joao’s hands around your waist, tugging you close to him until he’s able to fully envelope you in his arms. He kisses the back of your head - a slow, sleepy, almost genuine apology. You can’t do anything other than let out a soft sigh, closing your eyes and letting yourself get lost in the comfort you’ve learnt to find in his touch, in his scent, and his presence - no matter how fleeting it may be.

Because even if you wake up tomorrow to an empty bed, no sign of him even having been here at all other than a heavy heart, and no one else in the world knows what sort of relationship the two of you have - at least you’ll have moments like these to yourself to savour.

[dprvivi]

DATING P1HARMONY HEADCANONS :)

Ot6 x reader

Warnings: none really but some are a bit suggestive

Note: this is my first time posting, feedback is appreciated:)

THEO:

would be hesitant about intruding you to the other members but would love to introduce you to his parents early

he would probably brag about you all the time to his members

when you finally do meet the members he would be nervous, not about you but about them because he knows that they can be a lot

not very into pda but when you are alone he has his hands on you at all times

his favorite kind of date is probably something simple like gabbing coffee or having dinner

I think he wouldn’t mind you paying for dinner or dates but would always offer for him to pay first

wouldn’t want you to be involved in his work at all and would probably like to keep private and work separate

would still insist on always making you listen to new songs and then asking how you like his parts

not the biggest texter but likes to check in at least Daily no matter how busy he is

would send you Songs he likes

compliments you but likes it more when you compliment him

probably a big tease

will sing 24/7 especially in the car

is into showering together but never at the dorm and only at your place

would love to play his guitar for you whenever you are at the dorm and would practice love songs to play for you

texts you after every concert to tell you how it went but is pretty hard on himself

I think he would like to FaceTime when he’s away from home for longer, he likes FaceTime more then calls because wants you to see his face

KEEHO:

Theo sings 24/7… keeho sings 25/8

like seriously if you don’t like that you are dating the wrong person

is into pda, not too much tho like he would want to make out in front of others but definitely would like small touches and a kiss

loves going out together

especially when you go somewhere and dress up like fancy dinner

would be all gentleman about dates: pick you up, open the car doop and definitely pay

idk why but I feel like he makes awkward compliments, not awkward with the meaning but awkward because he brings them over awkwardly or at random times (but in a cute way)

would def introduce you to the members quickly but that’s mostly because he would want you at the dorm A LOT

very much into long and heavy make out sessions but only behind closed doors ofc

he is into nicknames like baby and babe

likes when you compliment his style or specific outfits he wears on stage

takes pictures of you when he thinks the lighting or background somewhere is good and would probably be very serious about it like you are a model for vouge

definitely wants you to meet his parents and if you don’t have plans for Christmas he will ask you to go to Toronto with him

always tells you about how he wants to make your relationship public but isn’t allowed to

would love it if you are backstage waiting for him at concerts

JIUNG:

the definition of boyfriend material fr

definitely shows you off anywhere (he is a proud bf)

he is the type that dates to marry so he will probably start imagining how his last name suits your first name since day 1

Calls you nicknames like darling

would love it when you are at the studio or at concerts with him but would definitely like to keep things light in front of others

but if you are alone in the dressing room or studio he would have his hands all over you telling you how much he loves seeing you at his work

Shows you new lyrics and songs all the time but expects you to be honest with him

cares for you and about you so much, like he enjoys taking care of you when you are not feeling well and checking in on you throughout the day

would also like you at the dorm

I see him wanting to cook with you like making dinner for the other members together

or sneaking into the kitchen in the middle of the night to make some kind of dessert which will lead to a super sweet make out session in the kitchen

compliments your mind and intelligence over your body

he is the type of guy to move strands of hair out of your face and look you deep in the eyes

cheek kisses>>> giving and receiving

LOVES watching romantic movies with you and holds you close the entire time, when s sad scene comes on the will hold you a bit tighter

would recommend you books and movies

when he’s on tour he would like too call every other day or so

will cry if he misses your birthday or your anniversary because of tour

plans the cutest dates ever for important days like that

INTAK:

we all know he’s a golden retriever

loved pda and loved showing other people how much he loves you

cannot wait for you to meet the members

will ask keeho what he thinks of you but will only accept good answers

he likes going shopping with you and he would go insane if you let him pick out stuff for you to try on

compliments you so much just because he cannot let you forget how perfect you are

SHOWERS you in kisses

loves it so much when you call him nicknames

i think he would actually stop breathing if he saw you in a hoodie or t-Shirt if his

likes dates but prefers staying in

when he talks about you to his friends he has the biggest smile on his face

he will ask you to come to the studio when he’s alone and show you new choreography’s that he is working on

would slow dance with you at any time and would probably nearly cry because he can’t believe how lucky he is

he would be so nervous when it comes to meeting your family or friends because what if they don’t like him

hates fighting more then anything in the world and hates it so much when you are mad at him

he will apologize so much and probably be in tears

loves cuddling and will always ask you to stay over for the night even if you have school/work in the morning

loves words of affirmation like he just loves hearing that you love him or that something he did made you feel good stuff like that

likes talking to you but could also hear you talk for days

SHOTA:

loves physical touch especially when you initiate it

Likes holding hands or having arms interlocked or leaning against each other

would love to game with you

builds you minecraft worlds even if you don’t play Minecraft

staying in bed and gaming/ watching YouTube is probably his ideal evening with you

loves texting during the day

he would probably enjoy if you would tell him random and small things without context

sends you his little symbol emoji’s 24/7

since you are probably still in school or maybe Uni he would try to help you with homework if studying but distracts you more then anything

would remember when you have tests and text you good luck

buys you stuffed animals all the time or wins them for you at arcade games (will name them too and call them your children)

dreams about taking you to japan and always tells you about all the places you have to visit once you two are there

will get all shy when you compliment him on anything

Shows you his dance moves very proudly but will definitely be nervous about your opinion

would be sooo flustered when you wear something more revealing around him but would love it and he will let you know

Probably likes the relationship to move slow because he doesn’t want to make it feels rushed or make you feel pressured

just a cutie

JONGSEOB:

so shy at first but as soon as you are together he is all yours and so open

incredibly nervous about you meeting the members because he just knows that they will embarrass him

Not to big on pda but loves holding your hand when he’s nervous

doesn’t like making first steps but just because he’s never sure with the timing

brings you into the studio at night all the time and loved spending time with you there

writes lyrics for you and sends them to you

loves listening to music with you

likes going out and staying in

I see him enjoying movie dates and shopping in vintage stores

He is OBSESSED with talking pictures of you with his camera

he will show the pictures to jiung or Theo and won’t stop talking about how cute you look

you are definitely his muse

also likes gaming together, Mario cart against him will lead to making out one way or another

he likes when you stay over for the night because he loves walking up next to you

will text you a lot and gets excited about seeing a text from you pop up on his phone

Blushes when you compliment him

he is hard on himself with his music so he appreciates it so much when you tell him you like something

Loves late night calls

his love language is sharing headphones

he is so interested in you, he wants to know everything’s and could listen to you all day without cutting you off once

[i-tripped-on-a-rock]

more low effort art of Alejandro and Noah!! I love them sm,,,, (I actually don’t like this drawing as much but it’s not horrible so I thought I would post it)

Some more of the fic out of context:

“The challenge begins in ten minutes! You kids have fun, I’ve got places to be!” Chris says into his large megaphone as the helicopter begins to take off. Noah rolls his eyes and hugs his arms closer to his chest. Cold and angry is never a good combination. Next to him, Alejandro scoffs quietly. Noah glances over at the taller teen, eyes still obscured by his sunglasses. Alejandro’s mask of “calm, kind, and flirtatious” is no where to be seen. The rest of the contestants are further away, and he hasn’t noticed Noah’s eyes on him yet.

“¿Qué ‘lugares’? ¿Una residencia de ancianos?” Alejandro mutters. He clearly didn’t mean for Noah to hear what he said given how quietly he spoke, and it took all of Noah’s self control to not burst out in startled laughter. He bites his bottom lip to suppress a laugh. His Spanish isn’t great-he’s barely conversational- but he understood enough. “What ‘places’? A retirement/nursing home?”

There was something about the way he said it that set Noah off. Alejandro had this air of irritation to him that Noah sees every morning when he looks in the mirror. He’d never seen the teen more unhappy to be here than in this exact moment, and it only made it more funny to him.

Every once in a while, Alejandro’s mask would slip up and Noah would get to see through his facade, even if it was just for a split second. He would make some sarcastic or mean comment, or just glare at a contestant. The mask was never down for more than a moment, but Noah noticed. Alejandro… he wasn’t that bad in those moments, if Noah was being completely honest with himself. The mask would slide right on the moment he remembers there’s people around, or when someone talks to him. It was like whiplash, despite how minor the changes were. It was almost impressive how much of a difference a few relaxed facial muscles and a charming smile could make.

Noah realizes he failed to suppress a snort at Alejandro’s comment when the other teen turns to look at him. Noah freezes like a fever in headlights as Alejandro stares at him. What surprises him the most, however, is that despite Alejandro realizing someone heard him, he hadn’t tried to hide behind his facade again. That irritating smile that Noah hates so much isn’t anywhere to be seen. Alejandro looked like he was silently speedrunning the 5 stages of grief before finally landing on confusion. It wasn’t until Alejandro began to speak that Noah remembers that he’s not supposed to know Spanish.

“Do you-“

“Sorry! I, um-.” Noah blurts out, frantically searching for an excuse and praying to any god that’s listening that his sunglasses are obscuring enough of his face to hide his panic, “I. I sneeze weird. I have mild anemia and get cold easily, and it’s already cold as hell here.”

Not a complete lie- he does mild anemia- but he’s basically rambling. Before Alejandro has the time to doubt or question him, Heather yells out to them.

“You two losers better get your asses over here! I will not have my win be delayed!” She’s stood further away from them with the rest of the contestants a bit away, stood in front of the beginning of the next challenge. Noah gladly latches on to the chance to switch topics

“Careful with all the cursing on camera, Heather! We wouldn’t want Chris to chop off all your hair again!” Noah calls back has he begins his trudge though the snow towards the challenge. He avoids Alejandro’s stare as he walks past and hopes he won’t push the issue. It’s too early into the game to be making mistakes, especially when it involves his biggest threat.

[jiraisupportgroup]

♡ Body & Face Care Tips (for when showering is too much) ♡

Showering is hard sometimes for multiple reasons T-T

But I made a post abt hair care sans-shower so now we gotta talk about body care!! Unfortunately I don’t have as many tips as I did for the hair care one - but on the bright side it’s a little simpler ♡

~ Body Care ~

♡ Baby wipes are your best friend. Go through & wipe down every part of your body. After you hit big target areas (armpits, feet, genitals) switch to a new baby wipe. You can also get biiiiiiig ones from CVS or Walmart sometimes. Look into bathing cloths - they’re usually really big and antibacterial so they’re awesome to have on hand.

♡ If you don’t have baby wipes or bathing cloths, or just don’t want to spend the money on them, use a wet washcloth. You can use a little bit of soap on it if you need, just be sure to wipe down with just water afterwards to avoid soap residue on your skin - that can make you very itchy. I usually recommend baby soap because if you miss any it tends to be less itchy once it dries.

♡ You can also use a body sponge for this (a sponge NOT a loofa, loofas hold on to too much soap so it’s hard to use them to get excess soap off later). You also don’t really have to be at a sink! You can use just a bowl of water so you can do this anywhere. ^-^

♡ Baby powder is really good for hot months, patting a little baby powder onto high-sweat areas & joints can help prevent chafing and keep you dry & fresh through the day. You can also use a little bit of baby powder in your shoes to freshen them up, same for clothes and bedsheets - baby powder is just kind of awesome.

♡ Lotion is amazing for rehydrating skin & smelling fresh after a good wipe-down. I’m obsessed with the baby lotions because they’re not too thick so texturally it doesn’t feel as sticky.

♡ Legs & armpits can be shaved outside of the shower if you want to. Wet your legs, use conditioner or a shaving cream, and shave. Rinse off your razor frequently & make sure you wipe down the area with a wet washcloth afterwards to make sure there is no soap residue. I’ve done this on the couch before I’m not even going to lie. (You also totally don’t have to shave, absolutely 0 shame it’s not like a required thing at all, this is more so of a “if you want to” kind of thing.)

~ Face Care ~

♡ Makeup remover wipes are amazing I love them. On days where washing my face is too much I use a makeup removing wipe (even if I’m not wearing makeup) to get any oils etc off, and then follow up with a baby wipe. Works great.

♡ Micellar water is also amazing. You can use a little washcloth or pad to wipe down your face (no rinsing required) or squirt some into your hands, wipe down your face, then rinse with water. Much lighter than soap so sometimes if you’re not feeling up to the whole face washing thing, this can feel a bit less taxing.

♡ Don’t worry about all the extra stuff. If you have the energy for all the creams and serums and toners and spot treatments that’s amazing but if you don’t, just don’t do it. I promise your skin is not going to freak out if you skip out on some serums. Wash face -> moisturize -> and you should be good to go. Honestly depending on your skin type & what face wash you’re using you may not even need moisturizer either.

~ Make the Shower More Bearable ~

♡ Shower while sitting down. I bought a little kid’s plastic stool from Walmart for like $7 & it works wonders for the days where I’m too exhausted to shower.

♡ Use a shower cap so you can just focus on cleaning your body.

♡ Use a soap you enjoy the scent and texture of, switching up soap scents can make things feel new and less taxing too. If you want, use a 3-in-1 shampoo conditioner body wash combo, if it makes the process easier, just do it ♡ whatever you can do to make things easier.

♡ Shower with the lights off. Do not shave if you’re showering with the lights off. But sometimes if the idea of looking too closely at your body is too much, showering with the lights off can help a little bit. Alternatively, covering the mirror with a towel or sheet can help as well.

I’m sure there’s more than this but this is just what I usually do to keep things fresh when I don’t have the energy to shower T-T

Feel free to drop more tips in the comments / ask box if you have any! 🤍🤍🤍

[slut4thebroken]

Russian Roulette

Pairing | Mitch Rapp x reader

Summary | Assassin!reader won’t talk. mitch knows just what to do to fix that Warnings | Sexual content, 18+, gun play, fear play, degradation, cnc (barely), breeding, face fucking, crying, edging, light praise, choking, brat taming, deep throating, Words | 8k Notes | Here it is folks! The long awaited russian roulette fic😌 I do plan to edit this again and republish it in the future but I’m happy with it for now. Enjoy!! (p.s. I’m more likely to post stuff that isn’t completely perfect in my eyes (even tho it’s literally still good lmao) if I have positive reinforcement😭 just an fyi if y’all want more💀) Ao3 link | <3 Masterlist

It was supposed to be a simple mission. One you’ve done hundreds of times by now.

Seduce the target, then kill the target.

Every mission, your boss gives you a name, picture, location, and time. That’s how you found yourself at a hotel bar, wearing a skimpy dress and strappy heels, waiting for Mitch Rapp.

You’re excited for this one. Usually the men are either old perverts or young, inexperienced, and cocky. But every once in a while there'd be a man who’d challenge you. A man who made the game exciting. And Mitch seems like that kind of man.

You sipped your drink and looked around the bar. Finally you saw him walk in. He went to the opposite side of the bar and ordered a drink. When he looked up, he caught your eyes. You didn’t look away and just gave him a small smile. His face was emotionless but you didn’t let that deter you. You leaned forward with your elbows on the bar, pushing your breasts together, and watched as his eyes followed the movement. When his drink was set in front of him, he grabbed it then started walking toward you, making you laugh internally. Men are so easy.

“Hi.” You said, setting your drink down after he sat next to you.

“Hi.” His voice definitely matches his face.

“I’m Evelyn.” You lied.

“Dylan.” He lied as well. Your targets were rarely smart enough to use a fake name, usually too focused on your tits and the promise of a good fuck instead.

“Do you live around here?” You asked, twirling a piece of hair around your finger.

“No. I’m here on business.” He took a sip of his drink and looked you up and down, this time spending more time on your legs.

“Oh me too. Well, business and then a little vacation time before I have to go back.” Which was another lie. You never stay anywhere right after a mission. “Although I do have time for some fun before I have to work.” You gave him a small smirk and crossed your legs, making your dress ride up your thigh.

“Oh yeah? How much time?”

“Probably a couple hours. My boss is flexible.” Lie. He hates when you’re late. But you’re horny and, target or not, there’s a hot man in front of you. He can wait a little longer than planned.

“What do you say, Dylan? Wanna keep me company for a few hours?” You set your hand on his thigh lightly. When you started sliding it up, he grabbed your wrist, his fingers completely encircling it. Probably to keep you from finding a concealed weapon.

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.” He said lowly.

“I think I have a pretty good idea.” You bit your lip, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “C’mon, let’s have some fun.” You leaned your face closer to his and felt his grip on your wrist tighten.

“I promise I’ll be a good girl.” You whispered, breath fanning against his lips. His eyes roamed your face for a few seconds before suddenly using his grip to pull you from your seat, over to the elevator. You’re thankful your purse was already on your shoulder because you definitely wouldn’t have remembered to grab it… And you definitely need it to finish the mission. Not that you can’t kill someone without a gun, it’s just easier.

You entered the elevator and he pushed the button for his floor. When the doors closed he slammed your back against the wall and pressed his lips to yours, making you moan in surprise. His hands gripped your waist tightly and yours went to his hair. He kissed you passionately, his tongue fighting for dominance with yours. When he rolled his hips into you, you pulled back with a gasp. He was quick to move to your neck, pressing kisses and leaving hickeys along the sides. You moaned again and his hand snaked down your leg then up your dress on the outside of your thigh.

“Oh my god!”

You both pulled away quickly. An older lady stood outside the elevator with her mouth open in shock. You hadn’t even heard the elevator ding. Mitch checked the floor number then swiftly exited, pulling you behind him.

“Sorry.” You gave the lady a sheepish smile as you walked past her. You entered his room quickly and he slammed you against the wall again. When his lips met yours, you started trying to push his jacket off his shoulders. He obliged then pulled back to take his shirt off.

You were too horny to think about what the proper reply should be when someone has scars like this. Maybe that’s what gave you away.

He pulled your purse off your shoulder and threw it on the dresser next to you. You internally cringed when it landed with a really loud thump, seeing as your phone and gun are both in it.

He kissed you again and started sliding both of his hands up the outside of your thighs, this time making sure to pull your dress up. He placed his leg between yours and you stifled a moan. When he bit your lip, you gave in, starting to grind on his thigh. His hands reached your hips and he gripped them tightly, forcing you to continue rocking against him.

Mitch moved to your neck again, leaving more hickeys and occasionally biting the sensitive skin. He reached your collar bones and continued down your chest but pulled back when he reached your dress. He looked at you with dark eyes then placed his hand on your neck. You gasped and started rutting against him harder.

He leaned his head down next to yours, putting his mouth by your ear, then whispered, “Who are you?”

“W-what?” You didn’t register the question, still focusing on grinding against him. He leaned back to look at you and tightened his hand on your neck, making you release a choked moan.

“Who the fuck are you?” Your hips stuttered to a stop. Shit. They never figure it out until there’s a gun to their head. Maybe he means something else. “Who do you work for?” He said, harsher this time.

Okay so he definitely doesn’t mean something else. Fuck. He slammed your head against the wall and you winced.

“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about. Dylan, you’re scaring me.” You said quietly.

“Don’t fucking lie to me!” He growled. He tightened his grip, and even pushed on your windpipe, making you claw at his hand, trying to remove it.

“You’re hurting me.” You whimpered, feeling tears pool in your eyes from the lack of oxygen. “Dylan, please.” You gasped, letting the tears fall- all of it adding to your performance. His grip loosened and your chest heaved, trying to take in as much air as possible. Finally you caught your breath and then made your move- it’s too risky to stay in this position when you don’t know what he’s capable of.

You punched him in the nose and he stumbled back, clearly surprised. You ran the couple of steps to reach for your purse but were yanked back by your hair until you landed on the ground in front of him, his gun aimed at your head.

“Who are you?” He asked again, his voice harsher now.

There are three ways you can play this. Accept your fate, continue with the act and hope you fool him, or fight and finish the assignment. In reality, there was only one option because of your ego.

“Honestly I’m surprised you figured it out so soon. Most of them don’t until they’re already dead.” You smirked, looking up at him. “Although the few that do figure it out usually are smart enough to try and get their dick wet before doing anything.” His face remained emotionless and it only spurred you on.

“What gave me away?” You started taking off your heels, preparing for a fight or a quick escape. “C’mon Mitch,” You continued when he didn’t reply, “I gotta know how to improve for my next job.”

“Who are you?” You kept looking up at him and moved onto your knees, not giving him an answer. Suddenly, his gun hit your temple, the force making you fall onto your hip. You brought your hand up to feel the injury, no blood at least but it’ll definitely bruise.

“Fucking, dick! What was that for?”

“It’s going to get a whole lot worse for you if you don’t start answering my questions.”

“What are you gonna do? Shoot me?” He cocked the gun and held it closer to your head making you chuckle. “You won’t do that.”

“Why’s that?” He deadpanned.

“Because your dick’s still hard.” You whispered, placing a hand on his bulge, waiting for him to remove it. He looked you up and down and you could only imagine what you look like right now. Because based on what you can feel, your dress is dangerously low on your chest and high on your thighs, and not to mention the number of hickeys you probably have. He put his gun in the waistband of his pants behind him and you smirked triumphantly.

Mitch crouched in front of you and you tried to plan how you could grab either his gun off him or your own. One hand fisted your hair and roughly pulled your head back, making you gasp.

“I’m going to ask you again. And I’m going to keep asking and hurting you more and more until you finally tell me.”

“Who are you?” You kept your mouth shut and stared at him. He removed his hand from your hair to land a swift punch on your cheek before grabbing it again. The dull throbbing hurt like hell but you kept your poker face.

“Who do you work for?” When you didn’t answer, he punched you twice this time. You could taste the blood in your mouth and you debated spitting it in his face.

“You’re wasting your time. You might as well just kill me.” You wiped off some blood you felt dripping on the corner of your mouth. “I’ve been trained to endure every type of torture in the book.” He examined you again but this time you grew nervous under his gaze. Finally he hummed and stood up.

“You’re right. I’m going about this all wrong.”

“What?” You barely got the word out before he grabbed your hair again, lifting you off the floor and throwing you onto the bed. “What the hell are you doing??” You scrambled backwards to the head of the bed when he started moving toward you.

“Luckiky for you, I know a type of torture that’s not in the book. Take your dress off.”

“W- no!” He sighed and got on the bed, grabbing your ankles and pulling you until you laid on your back. Mitch grabbed the hem of your dress and ripped it in half easily. You wanted to be angry with him so badly… but the horny part of your brain is outweighing any logic right now.

He pulled the shreds of fabric off your body until you were left in just underwear- foregoing a bra earlier because of the dress’s low back.

Mitch straddled your hips and placed a hand on your neck, leaning down so his nose brushed yours. You closed your eyes, waiting, but you only felt his breath fan against your lips as he chuckled.

“You’re lucky I don’t just kill you right now.” He rasped. His hand moved up to grip your cheeks, forcing your lips into a pout. “What do you say when I’m being so generous?”

Fuck you. Is what you wanted to say.

“Thank you…” You muttered, looking at the wall next to you. You assumed Mitch was satisfied because he released your face and sat up. He dragged his nails down your ribs and you hissed at the sting. Finally he reached your underwear.

“Such a fucking slut.” He mumbled under his breath and you bit your tongue. “No bra and this pathetic excuse for underwear? Baby, you’re just asking for it aren’t you?” He cooed. You wanted to beat the patronizing tone right out of him, but you couldn’t help the reaction you actually had. He smirked when he noticed you clenching your thighs together beneath him.

Mitch grabbed your underwear and ripped it in half, a lot easier than your dress. He removed the fabric and you started squirming under him. His hands held your hips still and his thumb brushed across your mound, teasing you. You bucked your hips and whined.

“Oh I’m sorry. Did you want something?” You glared at him and his smirk returned.

“You know, if you don’t know how to please a woman you can just say that. You don’t have to drag it out and stall.” His smirk immediately turned into a scowl and he raised his hand to hit you again but froze when he heard an unfamiliar phone go off. He got off you and you started to sit up but he grabbed his gun, pointing it at you.

“Stay.”

You rolled your eyes at the command. He grabbed your purse from the dresser and walked back over to the bed, gun still aimed at you.

“That’s my boss probably wondering where I am.” You said when the ringing stopped.

“I thought you said he’s flexible.”

“I lied.”

The ringing started again and he pulled the phone out of your purse. He looked at the unknown number then to you.

“You’re going to answer and you’re going to lie. Otherwise it’s a bullet in your head. Understand?” You nodded and he answered the phone, putting it on speaker.

“What’s taking so long?” He snapped.

“I’m just wrapping up. I’ll be in tomorrow instead of tonight… This guy was a lot more trained than you said.”

“You better not have slept with him again-“

“That literally happened one time and I still finished the assignment. How many more times are you going to bring it up?” You asked, very annoyed and wanting to get back to Mitch. Speaking of him, you looked up at him and saw his eyebrows were raised. You just rolled your eyes and flipped him off.

“Don’t be late.” The call abruptly ended and you found yourself wondering why you had covered for him. You’re not afraid to die… but it was almost instinctual to lie to your boss and that scared you. Because if Mitch had the power to make you do that… what else could he make you do?

You cleared your throat and looked up at him. He tossed your phone on the floor then continued digging through your purse. He pulled out your revolver and smirked.

“Cute.”

“Yeah I bet you’ll think it’s really cute when one of those bullets goes through dick-“

“Watch your fucking mouth. That’s your final warning.”

“Or what?” You challenged him. He set your gun on the bed behind him and kneeled over your hips again.

“Open.” You kept your mouth shut as tight as possible and he sighed. Mitch grabbed your cheeks and forced your jaw down then slid his gun into your mouth. You gagged at the taste and tried to get away from it but he was practically holding your head down. When you gagged again, this time it was because he shoved it further into your mouth. You felt tears well up in your eyes, then fall down your temples.

“Poor baby, crying over a few inches. How do you think you’re going to take my cock if you can’t even take this, hm?” You attempted to whine around the gun but it just sounded like a garbled moan. Mitch fucked his gun in and out of your mouth slowly and you continued to squirm under him.

“Careful, baby. One wrong move and I could accidentally pull the trigger. We don’t want that now do we?” You whimpered and squeezed your eyes shut, your body going stiff.

“There you go.” He purred. You continued gagging and crying, just wanting to be done with this part already.

“Take it.” He uttered softly. After a few more long seconds he removed it, a trail of saliva connecting the barrel and your lips. You coughed and tried to catch your breath, then looked up at him through your lashes, your lips were slightly parted as you panted.

He reached up and placed a hand on your cheek. You tried not to read into it when you leaned your head against his palm. His thumb wiped the remainder of your tears, then moved down to trace your lips. He just barely put his thumb in your mouth when you closed your lips around it and sucked lightly. You swirled your tongue around his finger, then opened your lips slightly. He removed his thumb, dragging your bottom lip down on the way out.

Your thighs were squeezed together and you bucked your hips before you could stop yourself. He chuckled and removed his hand from your face, groping your breasts instead. You gasped when he pinched your nipples and then winced when he tugged even harder.

“Ow.” You mumbled. He ignored you and did it again. “You know, you don’t have to be so rough with it. It feels perfectly fine when you do it lighter.”

“Oh I know. But here’s the thing,” He leaned down in front of your face, “I’m not trying to make you feel good, and I especially don’t care if it feels good or not.” He glanced at your lips, then leaned back up.

“I’m going to keep hurting you. And if your slutty little head can’t tell the difference, that’s not my fault.” He shrugged and you pouted.

“There’s not even a small part of you that wants to make me feel good?” You looked up at him through your lashes. His hands grabbed your waist, his thumbs rubbing circles on your stomach.

“You know, usually when someone tries to kill me… that’s not a very good incentive for me to pleasure them.” You just rolled your eyes.

“But I understand why you’re confused, baby.” His tone was dripping with condescension. “Because we both know you’re not leaving here alive and yet, I’d bet you’re all too willing and eager to please me.” You scoffed and he raised his eyebrows, as if to say am I wrong?

“Tough luck.” You snickered, feeling his grip tighten on your waist. “I’m a pillow princess. So I’m perfectly content right here.” You smirked and tilted your head slightly from its place on the pillows, as if to give him a physical example of just how content you are. He gripped your neck in one hand, the other holding himself up on the bed next to your shoulder while he leaned over you.

“That may be true, but even as a pillow princess I can tell you’d do just about anything for some praise.” You felt your cheeks heat up at that. There’s no way you’re this easy to read…?

“Please.” You scoffed. “I wasn’t loved enough by my daddy and now I’ll do anything a man asks in bed? Is that it?” You said sarcastically.

“No I don’t think it’s that.” Mitch tilted his head, studying you. “I think, being a female assassin, you rarely get the recognition and praise that you deserve. So you crave it in other forms.” You swallowed, your neck moving under his palm.

“What is this, a fucking therapy session?” You spat, growing uncomfortable under his gaze.

“No.” He smirked. “I’m just having some fun by getting under your skin.”

“Or are you just stalling cause you’ve never been with a woman before?” You flashed an innocent smile as his hand tightened on your neck. “Or is it that you can’t get it up? There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Mitch. Impotence isn’t uncommon.” You feigned seriousness, almost laughing at his expression.

Eventually though, he just chuckled darkly and your stomach dropped a little. He grabbed your ripped underwear and shoved it in your mouth. You looked at him with wide eyes, but before you could do anything, his hand was leaving your neck and sliding down your stomach. He reached your leg and traced over your hip bone, not going down any farther. You tried to spread your legs under him but you barely moved.

Mitch leaned up then settled between your legs on his knees. He grabbed your hips roughly and dragged his nails down your thighs, touching you just about everywhere except where you actually wanted him to.

You whined, squirming and opening your legs wider. Finally, his fingers ghosted over your clit, making you instantly buck your hips into his hand. To retaliate, he slapped your clit, hard, and shot you a warning look. You choked on a gasp at the sting but it faded quickly.

His fingers lightly dragged down your clit to your folds, then back up to start again. You were just about to rip the underwear from your mouth and tell him to hurry up when a finger entered you. You let out a muffled moan and closed your eyes, tilting your head back. He curled his finger inside you over and over again until you were bucking your hips against his hand. He inserted another finger and you let out another relieved moan.

This continued for a few minutes until you felt yourself nearing the edge. His palm pressed down against your clit, adding even more stimulation. Your hips were rocking against his hand and your eyes closed as you were about to come. He pulled his hand away suddenly, making you whine loudly.

“Ready for some torture?” Mitch smirked and you pouted around the makeshift gag. His fingers entered you, picking up where they left off. You fisted the sheets in both hands and arched your back slightly as you got close again. He stopped and you cried out as you came down from the edge for a second time.

“You gonna answer me now?” He looked at you with a dark glint in his eyes. He wasn’t really asking since he didn’t remove the gag to let you speak. “That’s fine. I have all night.” He curled his fingers inside of you and picked up the speed, making you release a muffled moan. He edged you a few more times- after the fourth time you started losing count- and you were so desperate that you were on the verge of tears.

You tried talking around the underwear in your mouth but it just came out as incoherent, muffled sounds. He removed it and you didn’t waste a second before begging.

“Please- I want…” You cut off with a sharp inhale when a third finger entered you, “I want to come. Please make me come.” He was silent for a moment and then he removed his fingers, sucking your arousal off of them quickly.

“How about this?” He picked up your gun and took out the bullets, leaving one in, and then spun the cylinder. “I’m going to shoot this four times,” he leaned over on his elbow, aiming the gun at your temple, “and if you’re still alive by the end of it, then you can come.” You choked on a gasp and his fingers brushed your entrance again.

“If you’re not alive by the end of it…” He leaned down so his nose almost brushed yours, “Well, I’m still going to fuck you.” He whispered with a dark look in his eyes that made you shiver. He inserted his fingers again and you whimpered at the intrusion.

“Ready?” He smirked, cocking the gun. You shook your head and furrowed your brows.

“N-no, I don’t-“ You flinched when he pulled the trigger, the click deafening right next to your ear because of the sudden fear you got hit with. You shuddered and squeezed your eyes shut.

“One.” He rasped. You whimpered and shook your head more.

“M-Mitch, I-I don’t wanna…” You gasped out.

“Why not, baby?” He worked his fingers inside you faster now. “I thought you wanted to come?” And the thing is… you do. You want to come so fucking badly. The gun aimed at your head is only adding to the growing knot of arousal in your stomach. But you watched him load the gun. And you have every reason to believe that he truly doesn’t care whether he fucks you before or after he kills you. While the thought makes you clench around his fingers, you’d rather be alive for that.

“Just three more, princess. I know you can take it. You wanna come right?” The saccharinity in his voice was quickly taking down all of your defenses. You nodded hesitantly, still shaking out of fear and arousal. He pulled the trigger again, the sound making you release a choked sob.

“Two more.” You felt tears welling in your eyes quickly. You’ve dabbled with fear play as a kink in the past, but it was never anything like this. He inserted a fourth finger and you whimpered at the stretch, but didn’t tell him to stop.

“You deserve this, princess.” His fingers contrasted the gentleness in his tone. “Maybe I should just fire all six rounds.” You moaned through a cry, feeling too overwhelmed emotionally and physically. “Cause we both know your holes are all you’re good for. At least when you’re dead you won’t be able to talk.” He fired the third shot and you felt the tears start to fall.

“Poor thing. Are you scared?” He cooed softly and you nodded with a whimper. “Little girls like you shouldn’t be carrying weapons around. It makes it too easy for just anyone to turn the tables and have you at the other end.” The way he reprimanded you was infantilizing. And you hated the fact that you don’t hate it…

“I-I’m sorry.” You whimpered, not sure what else to say.

“You’re so fucking pathetic. Look at you, humping my hand.” You didn’t even realize you were doing that. “Even with a gun to your head you’re still only thinking with your cunt. That’s why you’re a shitty assassin.” He whispered the last part bitterly.

“Dumb little whores like you aren’t cut out for this, you know why? Because you’d rather fuck your target than finish the assignment.” He ground the palm of his hand down hard on your clit, making you moan. “Say it, princess. Say ‘I’m a dumb whore who only thinks with my cunt.’” You whined loudly in protest, but he pressed the gun hard into your temple, reminding you of your position right now.

“I-“ You cut off with a choked sob, “I’m a…” You squeezed your eyes shut, embarrassed.

“Open your eyes, baby. Open your eyes and look at me.” You complied. “There you go. Now keep looking at me and say it. Don’t make me tell you again or one more shot will turn into two.”

“I’m a- a dumb whore who only thinks with my- with my cunt.” You whispered and Mitch looked satisfied.

“You ready to come?” You whimpered and nodded eagerly, thinking he’d let you come before firing the last shot. “Then just one more, baby.” Your stomach dropped and you felt the fear come back, full force. The coil in your stomach was about as tight as it could get and you tried to come before he could have a chance to fire another round, but your body would not obey you.

“Ready?” You choked on a sob and shook your head. “Oh come on, don’t be such a little bitch about it. Do you want to come or not?”

“Yes!” You cried.

“Then beg.” He said and you paused.

“W-what?”

“Beg me to shoot you so you can finally come, humping my hand like a fucking bitch in heat.” He growled, his fingers somehow going faster. You stared at him with wide eyes and slightly parted lips.

“Go on, baby.”

“Please…” You mumbled.

“Remember what I said would happen if I had to tell you again?” You swallowed, giving him a small nod.

“Please s-shoot me…” You whimpered, eyeing the gun. He raised his eyebrows so you continued, “so you can finally make me come.”

“Good girl.” He smirked, grinding his palm harder against your clit, bringing you impossibly closer to the edge. He fired the gun and you froze, then let out a heavy breath.

“Can- can I come now please?” You all but sobbed in relief.

“Go ahead, princess. Keep humping my hand just like that… good girl. Grind on it, baby. Make yourself cum.” He set the gun on the bed then wrapped his hand around your throat, pressing on the sides hard enough to make you light headed. You gripped his bicep and squeezed your eyes shut. Finally the knot inside you snapped and your back arched as your head tilted back, pushing your throat into his hand. Your other hand reached up to grab the wrist of the hand on your neck. You didn’t try to pull him away, you just needed something to ground yourself.

As you came down from your orgasm, your body sagged into the bed. Your eyes were closed as you panted, trying to catch your breath. He pulled his fingers from you then took his ring and pinky fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean and groaning at the taste. He placed his pointer and middle fingers in your already open mouth and you moaned, leaning forward to take them deeper.

“Who do you work for?” He asked softly, removing his fingers and using his other hand to cup your cheek. The tenderness of his touch and his voice distracted you from the weight of the question.

“Piece of shit.” You mumbled sleepily, leaning into his hand. “Hate him.” You sighed and closed your eyes that were growing heavier the longer you tried to keep them open.

“Why does he want me dead?” He brushed his thumb against your cheek, his other hand moving some hair behind your ear.

“You’re being so sweet. Dunno why anyone would want that.” You pouted, opening your eyes to look at him. He gave you a soft smile, but his eyes showed his confusion. “I didn’t wanna kill you. Dunno why… just had a feeling I guess.” You returned his smile then closed your eyes again.

“I’m not done with you yet, princess. Don’t go falling asleep on me now.” He chuckled, his breath fanning against your lips. “Remember what I said? I’m fucking you whether you’re alive or not.”

“Alive doesn’t mean conscious.” You smiled mischievously, not opening your eyes.

“Alright then. If you don’t want to be conscious when I fuck your face and then your cunt, then by all means. Go ahead and sleep. Makes no difference to me.” You could practically hear his smirk, and yet… you still took the bait. You opened your eyes and glared at him.

“Fine. I guess I’ll be conscious.” You huffed dramatically, rolling your eyes. You did your best to suppress a giggle.

“I’m honored.” His faux seriousness is what made you break out into a fit of laughter. He didn’t really laugh with you, but he smiled so you counted that as a win.

“Alright get it over with.” You settled into your spot on the bed and opened your mouth with a glint in your eyes.

“You’re such a pillow princess.” He muttered, shaking his head with an amused smile.

“Hey! Don’t say it like it’s a bad thing. I’m proud to be a pillow princess.” You grinned and he just scoffed.

“Yeah, okay.” He laid down on the spot next to you, one hand resting on his stomach and the other behind his head. “Sorry, princess but you’re gonna have to do some of the work. I’ve been on top the whole time.”

“So what I’m hearing is… you want to bottom? I mean I’m down for that but I don’t think we have the right materials, unless you’re hiding a strap somewhere.” You smirked, sitting up.

“Cute. Remember what happened last time you didn’t watch your mouth?” You flushed at the memory.

“How are you gonna fuck my face if you gag me with my underwear again?”

“I’m really starting to reconsider accepting your decision to stay conscious.” You gaped at him.

“You wound me, Mitch.” You put a hand over your heart dramatically.

“I’m going to wound you if you don’t hurry up.” You narrowed your eyes at him.

“You know, you telling me to hurry up makes me want to do the opposite.” You crossed your arms and he huffed.

“You’re a brat too. Anyone ever tell you that?”

“Yeah actually. It usually goes hand in hand with the whole pillow princess thing.” You condescended him and he raised his eyebrows.

“Fine.” He rolled his eyes then looked up at you through his lashes. “Please suck my cock, baby. You wanna make me feel good right? Wanna prove that you really are a good girl? Cause I’m aching for you, princess. I know you can make me feel so fucking good.” He all but whined and you faltered. That was not what you were expecting at all. You figured you’d get another sarcastic reply, not- not that. You settled between his legs on your knees.

“I want to state for the record that I am doing this because I want to, not because you told me to.” You started unbuttoning his pants and you glanced up when he didn’t reply. He had a satisfied smirk on his stupid, pretty face. You just glared at him and kept working on taking his pants off. When you removed his black briefs you were mesmerized as his cock slapped against his stomach, big and red and did you mention he was big??

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“I would but you threw my phone somewhere so…” You reached out to touch him but he grabbed your wrist.

“Take them off all the way.” You huffed but did what he said then reached for him again, he didn’t stop you this time. It looked even bigger in your hand and you could see the vein on the bottom and the precum surfacing at the tip. You leaned down and licked the clear bead, moaning at the taste and then laying down on your stomach between his legs.

You looked up at him and god what a sight. The veins in his arm behind his head are bulging and you could see the veins in the hand resting on his stomach. His pupils were blown wide and he had a light blush on his face.

“C’mon, princess. We don’t have all night.” You ignored him and continued trailing your gaze over his body. You wanted to kiss all of the moles littering his face. Your hand reached up and you brushed your fingers down his happy trail until you reached the base of his cock. You grasped it and looked up at him before starting to move your hand.

His eyes fluttering was the only indication that he even felt anything, so you decided to do more. You put the tip in your mouth and lightly sucked and then swirled your tongue around it, your hand still pumping him. He muttered a ‘fuck’ and you wanted more.

You took him deeper into your mouth, until your lips met your hand, then went back up, still keeping your mouth on him. You looked up at him and when you met his eyes he groaned. He tangled a hand in your hair but didn’t push you yet.

“That’s it. Fuck- good girl. No hands, baby. Just your mouth.” You removed your hand and continued bobbing your head up and down his length. He started taking control, moving you further down each time. When you gagged and tried to pull back is when he lost all control.

His other hand joined your hair and he didn’t even move your head. He just held you still and bucked up into your mouth at a punishing pace. Each time he thrusted in, you were nearly all the way down, but not fully. His thrusting came to an abrupt stop when he buried his cock as far as your throat would allow.

“Fuck- Relax your throat, princess. C’mon, take me all the way in.” You did your best to relax and he pushed inside until you gagged around him and tried moving off him. His grip didn’t loosen and you clawed at his thighs, feeling your airways start to burn from lack of oxygen. When he finally let you pull back, you took a huge breath in and coughed. Mitch was stroking your hair and you looked up at him with tears in your eyes.

“Ready for more?” You glanced at his cock again and nodded, licking your lips. He eased your mouth back over him and started with slow thrusts. He moved your head up and down his length, the slow place allowing you to concentrate on breathing and not gagging.

“You’re just the perfect little fuck toy for my cock, aren’t you?” You moaned around him and he started to speed up. “Just a fleshlight for me to use however I want. Fuck- you were made for this.” He grunted. His hips started to meet your mouth every time he pushed you down.

“Fuck- take it, princess.” He groaned when you choked around him. He held you down until your lips were at the base of his cock, paying no mind to your struggling. Your hands gripped his thighs again, nails digging into the skin. Even though he was holding you flush against his hips, he was still thrusting into your mouth slightly.

Finally he released you, a trail of spit connecting your lips and his cock. One of his hands fell to his side, the other brushing the tears of your face.

“Come here.” He muttered, pulling your body up his. He kissed you slowly, nails dragging down your back, making you groan. He rolled both of you over until he was on top of you, never breaking the kiss.

“I’m gonna fuck you now.” He rasped. You nodded your head, eager for him to start. “Condom?” He took his cock in his hand, rubbing the tip against your opening and your clit.

“Don’t have one. I’m on the pill though.” You breathed, bucking your hips into him. He connected his lips to yours again, this time faster and more eager. He pressed the tip against your opening, pushing in the tiniest amount. When he finally breached your walls you gasped. Obviously you knew he was big… but it’s a whole other story when he’s actually inside you.

He slowly slid his length into you, your legs being pushed up to his hips the closer he got. When his hips were flush against yours, your chest started heaving as you tried to relax around him.

“Fuck,” You whimpered, grabbing his bicep in one hand and the sheets in the other, “oh my god. You’re so fucking big.” You gasped out. He furrowed his brows and opened his mouth in a silent moan. Mitch grabbed your thigh and pushed it up higher, the new angle making you whimper.

“Oh fuck- your little cunt is so tight around me.” He groaned, finally starting to pull back slowly. He dragged his length out of you until only the tip was inside, then snapped his hips forward quickly. The force pushed you up the bed slightly but he continued that rhythm.

“Fuck- please go faster.” You whined, dragging your nails down his back and making him groan. His thrusts sped up slightly, the sound of his hips hitting yours was resonating through the room, along with your moans. His mouth attached to your neck as he bit and sucked the skin everywhere he could reach. You put a hand in his hair and pulled on it hard. To retaliate, his hand wrapped around your neck, squeezing the sides and making your head feel lighter.

Mitch kissed you again briefly, then pulled out. You whimpered at the empty feeling but he quickly grabbed your hips and flipped you onto your stomach. He pulled you onto your knees then pressed down on your upper back, making you arch even further. His cock entered you again and you let out a loud moan at the sudden thrust. His pace picked up quickly and you fisted the sheets near your head and squeezed your eyes shut. His hand left your back to grab your hips, using the leverage to thrust harder and faster.

He landed a sharp slap on your ass and you cried out from the sudden sting. He leaned over you and brushed the hair on your face behind your ear. His thrusts never ceased as his lips brushed your ear.

“You take my cock so fucking well, baby.” He said through a moan. Your breath hitched and you felt his words add to the growing warmth in your belly. “It’s like you were made for me. Made to be my little cock sleeve.” Mitch grabbed your hair and pulled your head back, making you gasp. His other hand wrapped around your throat, pushing your head back slightly. The harshness of his thrusts coupled with the sting on your scalp and the floaty feeling from his hand on your neck was driving you closer to the edge.

No matter how much you hated your boss or your job… you couldn’t help but feel glad that you didn’t quit yet. Because this was probably the best fuck of your life. Sure, most of the other men you’ve been with couldn’t please a woman to save their life- literally and metaphorically- but there’s just something different about him. About the way that he’s rough and soft at the same time. Not just in his actions but in his words too. It’s almost like he had a fucking manual for all of your kinks and turn ons.

“Where do you want me to come?” He whispered, lips grazing your ear. And fuck- you clenched around him, making him moan lowly.

“Inside.” You whispered breathily. His grip on your neck tightened and he cursed under his breath.

“Yeah? You want me to fill you up?” He put all his weight on the arm holding your throat, then released your hair and moved his hand down to start rubbing your clit.

“Please.” You whined, clenching down on him again.

“Such a fucking slut- wanting a stranger to come inside you.” You whimpered at that because… even though it doesn’t feel like it, he still is a stranger. “What if I knock you up, huh? I guess it won’t matter either way since, like I said, you’re not leaving here alive.” His thrusts got harder and faster and he was panting next to your head.

“Please, I-“ You cut off with a choked sob, getting closer to your release with every thrust. “I wanna live. Wanna be your cock sleeve.” Despite you being 90% sure this was all roleplay, there was still some truth to your words.

“Begging for your life and all you have to offer are your holes?” Your breath hitched and his words just added to the growing knot in your stomach. “I might consider that. But it depends… are you offering all your holes?”

“Yes!” You said through a moan. “Yes- all of them.” He chuckled darkly. “Please, I- I need to come.” You cried, feeling yourself nearing the edge.

“Go ahead, baby. Come and I’ll fill you up, okay?” He rasped, his hand rubbing your clit faster. Your body obeyed his command and you cried out when your orgasm hit. You heard him curse under his breath and felt as he fucked into you faster. You buried your face in the bed, muffling your loud moans. His hips stilled and you felt hot come paint your walls. You let out a loud whine as his hips just barely bucked against you, trying to bury himself deeper.

After both of you stilling and just panting for a few seconds, you lifted your face from the bed so you could breathe better and he moved off of you so he was kneeling. Mitch slowly dragged his cock out and you clenched at the emptiness. You felt his come drip out of you, down your clit, and he groaned loudly. He rubbed the head of his cock on you, spreading his come around, and you hissed at how sensitive you were. He moved to lay beside you and you dropped down from your knees on your stomach.

“You don’t seem like the type to cuddle after sex.” You chuckled and the corners of his lips turned up.

“You’d be surprised. But we aren’t exactly cuddling right now.”

“Well what’s stopping you?” You smirked and he rolled his eyes before pulling you to lay partially on top of him.

“Better?” He raised his brows and you laughed quietly.

“Much.” You said, laying your head on his chest. His fingertips lightly dragged up and down your arm and you traced the moles and freckles on his chest. What now? You thought. He’s not actually going to kill you… is he? “Are you actually gonna kill me?” You mumbled against his chest.

“I don’t know…” He sighed. “No. But I can’t just let you go.” He was silent for a moment before continuing. “I think I should bring you to my superiors and let them decide what to do with you.”

“Your superiors? That doesn’t sound ominous at all.” You laughed, feeling his chest vibrate as he chuckled quietly. “What are they like mob bosses or something?” You said teasingly.

“More like a former navy seal and director of the CIA.”

“The C-“ You lifted yourself off his chest to look at him. “CIA? You work for the CIA??” Your voice rose in shock and he raised his brows, amused by your reaction.

“Oh my god- I almost killed someone from the CIA. That would’ve been so bad.” You put a hand over your mouth and stared at him with wide eyes. “You didn’t even get close to killing me.” He chuckled.

“Only because I didn’t want to. I totally could’ve killed you.” He just smirked at you but you were too hung up on the fact that your boss basically sent you on a suicide mission. If not suicide, then life in jail.

“That bastard! He sent me to kill an agent of the US government and didn’t even fucking tell me.” You seethed before calmly stating, “I’m gonna kill him.”

“Don’t kill him.” He chuckled. “Actually it depends. Who is he?” You told him the name and his eyebrows raised before he let out a small laugh.

“What?” You asked, confused.

“That’s the guy we’ve been after right now. We’re actually really close too.”

“Oh... What’d he do?” You asked.

“He’s a terrorist.” He deadpanned and your whole expression dropped.

“Oh shit.” You breathed. “Okay well now I definitely want to kill him.” You shrugged. “After I get paid though.”

“But you didn’t kill me.”

“That’s what’s funny about it though. It’d be even more ironic if you were the one to kill him.” Suddenly, you realized that you, an assassin, are talking to an agent of the US government about killing someone. “Are you gonna arrest me?” You asked nervously and he let out a small chuckle.

“I don’t think I can even do that… but no.” You sighed in relief. “Plus, what good is a fuck toy if it’s in jail?” He smirked and you felt your cheeks heat up.

I’M SORRY IDK HOW TO END THIS 😭💀

[urfavoritegirlkisser]

"Midnight Rain" II - Rockstar!Ellie Williams x Popstar!Reader

an - wow i did not expect you guys to like this idea so much, if you haven't read part one i would go ahead and read it first before reading this part!! Enjoy!

I don't consent to anyone sharing my work anywhere else, I only post my writing on this tumblr account, do not steal my work

Tags: Fem!popstar!reader, rockstar!Ellie, we're burning slow here my loves, fake dating trope, no outbreak au, angst, slight anxious!reader, Ellie is a little bit of a player and kind of an asshole sorry pookies, lightly proof read, listen to "lucky" by britney spears it literally inspired this entire idea

So apparently you lied to yourself and no one forgot it happened

Two months. It had been two months since you had seen that article and left Ellie’s hotel room, and people couldn’t seem to let it go.

Edits of the two of you filled your for you page, fans brought signs to your shows asking about you and Ellie, and honestly, you were sick of it.

It didn’t help that your management thought it was a great idea because it gained traction for both you and Ellie’s fan bases.

So now you sit in a meeting with Ellie and your managers as they discuss another appearance from the two of you together.

This was your least favorite part of being a pop star, the fame, and your fans were amazing, but most of your choices weren’t your own; they were for the “brand” your management wanted to maintain.

“Sounds good to me” Ellie speaks up, breaking you from your thoughts as you look at her like she has two heads and scoff

“I’m sorry but weren’t you the one telling me that you had your precious reputation to uphold and couldn’t be tied down with anyone?”, you could feel your anger at the situation growing but knew you should keep yourself from completely losing it

“We both benefit from the attention, that’s more important to me than some silly reputation sweetheart,” she says with that infuriating smirk that lets you think for a moment that her words are truthful

“Fine,” you say, “But this is only going to be a thing for a few months, after my tour is over we are over, got it?” 

Your managers go over the agreements and discuss appearances before the both of you sign, basically binding yourselves to each other for the next six months.

The first appearance was simply Ellie coming to one of your shows

She hangs out with her bandmates Dina and Jesse in the VIP box where they are visible to the fans attending but are secure enough so they don’t get mobbed and can enjoy the show comfortably.

You make sure to direct most lyrics in the more romantic songs on your set list toward Ellie and can tell that your fans are eating it up.

After the show, your manager escorts you backstage where Ellie is waiting, noticing that it’s visible by some fans lingering in the upper levels.

Your manager pushes you toward Ellie and you plaster on a fake smile, running up to her and hugging her tightly.

Ellie kisses your cheek lovingly and it sends a jolt of sadness through you as you look into her eyes, wishing the look of care on her face was real.

“Smile, people are watching” she whispers into your ear while letting her hand slip to your waist and letting the other cup your jaw to tilt your face to hers.

You shake off the creeping feeling of anxiety at so many cameras on the two of you and smile softly, letting Ellie lead you into a quick kiss before parting and being led back to your dressing room by your manager.

You get back to your hotel that night and scroll mindlessly through your feed of constant videos from tonight, some of you performing, some of Ellie in the VIP box, and plenty of when the two of you met after the show.

You scroll through the comments of fans raving about how happy the two of you look with tears in your eyes

If only they knew

an - I listened to my sad girl hours playlist for this, I hope you enjoyed it!! Now go drink water you girl kissers xoxo

[kaytheday]

Little Sister - Ace's Perspective on when Darry nearly went soc

This fic is inspired by some tags left on my post by @specific-dreamer! I have grown to love Ace so much! I also have no idea how old Ace is in comparison to everyone else. Alas! Enjoy!

The first time Ace had been to the Curtis house she had limped inside, leaning heavily on her half-brother Steve with blood dripping down her face. He had set her gently on the couch, the others around her saying things she couldn’t hear through the buzzing in her ears. 

Things were getting bad around town again, so bad that Steve and her had been jumped just trying to get home.While they were walking a soc’s mustang had rolled down the window and started yelling terrible things. Things Ace didn’t even want to repeat, the kind of stuff that nobody would say to those soc girls. When Steve had dared to yell back, four soc’s had poured out of the car and started running towards them. She’d barely had time to fumble her blade out of her back pocket before one of them had tackled her to the pavement. She’d taken about four punches before she’d screamed. 

“You want to be a boy so bad? Why don’t you start by taking your punches like one, huh?” The soc had sneered before hitting her again. 

She doesn’t remember much after that, too many hits to the head will do that to you. The next thing she does remember is Two-Bit touching her face after they’d chased off the last of those socs. 

“You look okay kid, let’s get out of here.” 

Then she was at the Curtis home. It was like she had never known comfort before that house. Mr. Curtis and Mrs. Curtis had been gone that night, but everyone else was there. That’s the first time she met the gang, except for Two-Bit of course. 

It was Darrel Curtis that had set right to cleaning up this random kid on his couch. Darry always had to be doing something and right now the only thing to do was fix her up. It was at that moment she was sure he’d delegated himself to be her additional older brother. Soda had fallen in love with her immediately, something Ace liked to tease him for but Darry… Darry had taken it upon himself to be her protector. And he had, since then, Darry always protected Ace. In fights, from mean boys at school, even from unsuspecting comments made by the gang. One time Dallas had made a comment about her making him a sandwich and Darry had nearly clocked him into next week. 

“You don’t get to say that shit to her, ya hear Dallas? Not in this house, not anywhere.” Dallas had rubbed his jaw glaring at Darry before storming out of the house angrily. He hadn’t said sorry but he hadn’t done anything like it since. It was the closest she would ever get to an apology from Dallas Winston. 

All of this was before Darry had gotten his new soc friends. To be fair, he’d always had to be closer to the socs than the rest of them. He was in the smarter classes at school and he was on the football team. Both areas in which there are typically more socs than greasers. 

The only difference was this year, he had actually become friends with them instead of just tolerating them like he used to. It had gone so far that he was spending the night at their houses, going to their parties, and sometimes even wearing their clothes. 

Ace knew it hurt every member of the gang to see Darry buddying around with the enemy, but for some reason it had cut her deeper. Now he was friends with those same boys he used to protect her from. The same boys that still found time to beat her up and call her slurs. It just hurt to be betrayed by one of the people she never thought would betray her. She carried that anger right at the bottom of her throat, as if waiting for a moment to yell and release it all.  

The worst was when Paul Holden and some of his friends had gotten ahold of her after school one day. Soda, Steve and Two-Bit had skipped, probably to get some lunch with their girlfriends. Johnny and Ponyboy weren’t in high school yet, still at the middle school. Ace was barely older, young and small for a freshman. She’d started the walk home to her grandparents house when she was passing the corner store. Paul Holden and his friends had strolled out of the store. 

She’d barely had time to count them all before they attacked her. Two of them dragged her by the arms to the ground. She’d gone down kicking and screaming, trying in vain to get herself free. It hadn’t been enough though.

“Have we found ourselves a little boy fellas?” Paul sneered. 

“Naw, I don’t know what this thing is, Paul.” Another one had answered, punctuating his statement by kicking her ribs in. 

They left her there once they had finished. Ace laid there for a minute, still seeing stars before she’d all but dragged herself to the Curtis household. Nobody was home and so she’d gotten out the first aid kit and started cleaning up before collapsing on the couch. 

Later, everyone had filed in and Ace told them what had happened. She’d left out the part that it was Darry’s friends but Dallas was still fuming. Darry still wasn’t home. He was the only one Ace dreaded seeing anyway. How could she tell him that his brand new buddies had beat the shit out of her? They had nearly killed her outside the corner store after school! How would she tell him the horrible things they had said? The names they had called her and nasty comments that still made her sick to her stomach? She found herself hating him. Darry hadn’t been the one to beat her up but he might as well have. He had betrayed her with the company he kept. 

When Darry had walked through the door that night, finishing out his long day of school and work at his part time job, Ace had been fuming, shaking with a mix of fear and fury. She had been so distraught that she could hardly look in his direction. 

“Let's go.” She had whispered to Steve sitting next to her. Soda gave her a confused, almost concerned look. He had always been good at reading people and Ace was no exception. She had to look away, fearing her face would betray her true feelings. Then Steve helped her up and they started home. 

Ace heard later from Steve who heard from Two-Bit who heard from Ponyboy that Dallas had really laid into Darry about the company he was keeping. Apparently Ace getting jumped had really gotten to Dallas. So much so he started yelling at Darry. He hadn’t said anything about what happened to her but he had said more than enough about Darry wanting to be a soc. Darry hadn’t taken nicely to that and Mr. and Mrs. Curtis had walked in on the two boys fighting. 

The next Monday at school Ace had seen Darry with Paul and the rest of those boys and that had hurt her more than anything. More than the busted ribs and the black eyes she was still carrying. Seeing Darry look at her and look back at Paul acting as if he hadn’t even seen her cut deeper than any knife. 

The person that was supposed to be her friend had become an enemy. Indistinguishable from those who had jumped her and called her names a day earlier. 

She’d skipped school the rest of her classes that day, having half a mind to drive to light his football jersey on fire. But she didn’t. 

Usually when Ace was this frustrated, she would find Soda and talk to him. He could always help her, but she was scared he would defend Darry and she didn’t want to hear any of that. This was the first time she had been jumped this bad in a while and it had left her terrified out of her mind, constantly looking over her shoulder, and nervous. In the past, after she had gotten jumped, she would try to stay as close to Darry as possible, any of the guys really but mostly Darry. She had always known he wouldn't let anything happen to her with those tree trunk arms, but now… now she wasn’t sure what he would do. She was lost, she didn’t know who to go to. 

So, she just stuck close to Steve and tried to stay out of the Curtis home. Staying away as much as possible. 

Despite it all, the gang seemed to notice. 

“Staying away kid?” Dallas found her smoking on her porch one day. “We ain’t seen you around much.”

“Yeah.” She’d said shortly, taking another drag.

“You know, I really don’t blame you. I’ve been staying away myself actually. Damn Darrel and those socs, all the way to hell.” He lit his own cigarette and sat down next to her. The two didn’t say anything else, just finishing their cigarettes and going their separate ways. 

That was one thing she had to love about Dallas Winston. He came off cold but he had a level of understanding to him that was deep in a different way than anyone she’d ever known. 

Soda had tried to talk to her too. 

“You okay Ace?” They were skipping school and had gone to a gas station for lunch. She had popped a piece of her stolen bubble gum. 

“Sure Soda.” She tried to sound confused but one look from Soda told her that he wasn’t falling for it. 

“It’s just… You haven’t really been around the house much and when you are…” You don’t stay long. That part went unfinished. She didn’t want to see Darry, she thought that if she saw him she’d start yelling and if she started yelling things would get bad again. Like they had before Ace had been welcomed into the gang. Back when she and Steve were alone. She didn’t want to be alone again but she didn’t know if betrayal was much better.

“You ever think I have other friends? Things to do that don’t involve you? You’re so self-centered Soda, it’s all those good looks, they get in your head.” She tried to say it with a smile, even pinching his ear like they used to do as kids. But it seemed Soda didn’t want to play this game anymore. He quickly turned serious. 

“You can always talk to me, you know?” He said, knocking his shoulder against hers. “If there is anything that’s troublin’ you, I’m always here.”

“I know.” He smiled then, stealing a piece of her gum and running off before she could kick him. 

So that's how it went for a couple more weeks. Ace stayed away from the Curtis home and tried to stay invisible at school, but those boys had singled her out and seemed hell-bent on seeing her dead. They called her slurs and said nasty things to her. Things that would turn her dead momma in her grave. So she tried her best to fade into the background. Don’t get her wrong, Ace was never one to run from a fight but there was a difference between being brave and being plain stupid and Ace had never been stupid. She wasn’t going to run head-first into a fight she couldn’t win and she definitely wasn’t going to run to someone who wouldn’t even bother to protect her anymore. 

Soda had definitely noticed something was wrong between her and Darry. Whether or not he had said anything to Darry? She didn’t know and she didn’t intend to find out. 

It all happened late on a Friday night. Ace had gone to the drive-in with Steve, Soda, and Two-Bit, she had left by herself. Some of those soc girls had shown up and started making fun of her, calling her ugly and boyish, pretty much the usual. Ace grew frustrated and told Steve she was going to the bathroom, opting instead to start the run home. In hindsight, it wasn’t the smartest decision she had ever made. 

She had been a block away from the Curtis house before she had realized where her feet were taking her. Just as she started to turn around, a mustang began flashing its lights at her. She started to run but didn’t get far before Paul and his friends got ahold of her. She had yelled something awful, knowing full well that nobody in their neighborhood would do a thing about it. Maybe that was why the socs chose to jump her on greaser turf, they knew no one would call the cops. 

Paul shut her up with a punch to the mouth, she felt her lip split. Two soc boys held back her arms. 

“Well well well, what do we have he-,” She spat blood at him before he could finish his growling sentiment. They all stopped, holding their breath as if waiting for Paul's next move. Then they erupted into howling laughter, like a pack of nasty hyenas.  

“Do you think that scares me? You greaser scum.” He delivered a blow to her stomach. She lost her breath and would have doubled over if not for the boys holding her up. 

“Oh… I think there's a lot that scares you.” She said with a wince. “You soc scum!” Paul hit her several more times, managing to split her eyebrow open, blood pouring into her face. Then they drop her to the ground. 

“Say that again you little dyke! Say that shit again!” 

“I don’t need to!” She spits back. “You heard me the first time, you know what you are!” She starts to say more but they begin kicking her. 

It’s getting to the point where she doesn’t even register how many times they’re hitting her anymore. Her whole body is pulsating in pain with her heartbeat. She tries again to scream or move or do something but she's pinned. Right as Ace is about to pass out she hears someone shout. 

“Hey! What the hell…” The voice fades after that and she feels like her head is underwater. 

When she finally comes around, she’s lying on her back. Blood drips from her eye and onto the cracked sidewalk below her. She’s suddenly hyper aware of Darry patting her cheek softly, looking more scared than she’s seen him in a long time. 

“...an you hear me? Ace baby… come on…. Can you hear me? Ace?” She blinks dumbly and tries to say something but her mouth won't work properly. Isn’t she supposed to be mad at Darry? It’s his friends who just beat her up. She can’t think straight.  “Okay, Let’s just get you home Ace.” He doesn’t wait for an answer before sliding his hands under her head and knees, picking her up as gently as he can and carrying her down the rest of the block and into the house. 

She doesn’t even register the walk… or being set down on the couch. Her head is still swimming and she can only feel pain and anger. Darry wasn’t supposed to save her! He was supposed to jump in and help his friends beat her up! She couldn’t believe he’d saved her. Not after everything. 

Darry came out of the kitchen with an ice pack and the first aid kit. 

“What’s goin’ on Ace? I ain’t seen you around anymore kid. What were you doing walkin’ home alone?” Ace could have answered him kindly, but she had weeks of pent up anger towards Darrel Curtis. He wasn’t going to get off this easy. 

“What do you care?” She spat. “Not like you’re around much anyway.” The way his eyebrows rose clear to his hairline told Ace that he had no idea what she was talking about. 

“What are you talking about?” He asked. 

“Don’t give me that!” She said, flecks of blood spraying from her lips. “With the company you keep, you should’ve helped Paul and your buddies jump me. You damn soc!” She spits out the last part with a conviction that only comes out of weeks of bottled-up anger. 

“What? Are you serious?” To his credit, he looks genuinely hurt, not that it soothes Ace’s temper any.

“You know what? I’m leaving, you asshole.” She goes to stand but is overcome with a wave of nausea, suddenly dry heaving while Darry runs for a bowl. 

Darry rubs her back as she empties her stomach. Which is mostly popcorn and soda from the drive in. 

“You probably have a concussion. Just take it easy Ace.” She wants to relax but Ace is still fired up, she has so many things to say to her once friend and surrogate older brother. 

“Yeah, thanks to your friends, real nice company you keep Darrel.” She doesn’t know if it’s the concussion making her honest or the angry bitterness running through her veins but she says it. 

“What are you talking about, my friends?” He moves for the first aid kit and starts fixing the cut on her eyebrow. 

“You’re tellin me you chased em off and didn’t see who they were? Paul and all your buddies were the ones that jumped me!” 

“That can’t be right.” Darry looks almost stricken. 

“It is. You think I’m stupid? That I couldn’t see the guys that jumped me? It was all those soc royalty guys you like to buddy around with.” 

“You’re making it sound like I have a choice in all of this Ace. They’re the people I’m around every day, they’re on the football team, I have to be friendly.” 

“Of course you have a choice in all of this. I just don’t understand how you could betray us.” 

“I’m not betraying anyone. I’m just doing what I have to.” Darry says through gritted teeth, he’s starting to get frustrated which is exactly what Ace is going for. 

“You hanging out with those socs is betraying all of us. You’d really trade the gang? Your flesh and blood? For what? Some jackals in letterman jackets and nice shoes? You think they give a damn about you? They don’t! You’re betraying us for nothing!.” She scoffs, flinching a little as he adds a butterfly stitch to her eye. 

“If you think I’m betraying my brothers or any of you, you’re stupider than you look! I’m doing what I have to do. To live my life right! To get out of Tulsa!” Darry finishes with the stitches and stands up, he’s openly yelling now. 

“Being a soc is living your life right?” Ace stands too, nearly two heads shorter than Darry but that doesn’t matter. She’s all spitfire and raw emotion. Darry needs a wake up call anyway. “I don’t understand how you can buddy around them when you protected me! When you stood up for me! You don’t know half the things those boys did to me, half the things they say to me! They’re terrible people and they’re gonna make you terrible too!” The last part comes out like a choked sob, but she swallows it. Ace doesn’t cry. Not in front of anyone. 

“What?” He looks like someone has slapped him and Ace is a little scared she pushed him too far. “What did they do to you?” His voice is icy, Ace didn’t expect that response. Ace doesn’t answer, she’s blinking back tears and is still in pain from the fight. “Ace. What did they do?” He emphasizes every syllable in that protective way, the same way that reminds her of how things used to be. 

“They… They…” She’s struggling for words and rightly so, but once the words start, they don’t stop. Coming out like a flood of terror. “They say terrible things to me at school every day, they call me names and slurs. Everytime I pass them in the hall they make fun of my hair and my clothes and my dead momma. Sometimes they pull my hair and they’ve jumped me twice now. I’m scared, Darry.” She sounds younger than she is and immediately Darry softens, taking a step towards his little sister. “I’m scared they’ll make good on their threats, or hurt me, or even kill me! I’m just scared all the time and I’m scared that you won’t help me because you’re friends with them now too.” 

Ace sits down on the couch, the fight knocked out of her. There it is, out in the open. She closes her eyes, ready to hear Darry start yelling again or worse tell her she deserves it but she doesn’t hear anything. Instead she opens her eyes to see Darry pale faced and visibly trembling. His cold blue eyes looking at her with something… pity? Fear? Annoyance? Something. 

“Ace… god…” He’s at a loss for words. “I didn’t know it was that bad.” 

“But you knew it was bad?” She’s exhausted, she’s suddenly so tired and ready to go to sleep. 

“Yeah, I mean, I know that they always have it out for greasers but… I’m gonna kill them for this. I didn’t know they were saying all that, I’m so sorry.” Ace doesn’t say it’s okay because it’s not. What they did will never be made okay. Darry looks up at her again. “Ace… I would never help them hurt you. I would never do anything to hurt you.” Surprisingly enough, Ace can feel a tear slide down her cheek. “You have to know that, okay? I would die before I let them do anything to my baby sister.”

 It’s the first thing he’s said all night that Ace truly believes. Darry would always protect her, of course he would. That never went away. He would never do anything to hurt her intentionally. 

Darry pulls her into his chest in a hug, his knees on the ground. Ace hugs him back, her quiet tears soaking his shirt as she clutches her arms to him. Then he pulls away and she wipes her eyes, sniffing a little and trying to laugh. 

“Don’t go turning soc on us Darry. I couldn’t take it.” But Darry isn’t laughing. 

“I’m going to kill Paul and Chet and all the rest of them for this Ace. I swear to god I’m gonna kill them.” He softens when he looks at her. “I’m going to stop Ace, I’m going to stop trying to be something I’m not. For the gang and for you.” She smiles easily, accepting that.  

“Thanks greaser.” She says good naturally, Darry grins.

“You sure you’re okay?” He says looking her over as if he missed something. 

“Yeah, it just hurts.”

“It’ll be okay, I’ll get you some aspirin. Stay here tonight and try to get some sleep. I’m going to see if I can find my brothers.” 

“Okay greaser.” She had a sneaky feeling that he might run into Paul as well but she didn't say anything. 

“Good night little sister. Call if you need anything.” She just nodded, sleeping well for the first time in weeks.

[justasecretflower]

Shark bait men as boyfriends 🦈🤍

Part one / part two

A/N- I feel like nobody will know shark bait on here but I really wanted to post anyway..

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊ ₊˚ ‿︵

Rhin

- oh he’s sweet.

- super kind and caring, he’s very domestic. He likes to be soft with you, he likes you wearing his clothes (canon), he likes you being all sweet with him, even if it’s cheesy.

- he gets jealous even if he doesn’t seem like he’s the type to. Which usually ends up with him leaving scattered love bites in a fit of rage then getting embarrassed about it and telling you to cover them.

- he’s super smart. Loves to give you tons of fun facts.

- sometimes wants to just live a normal life with you, away from war with the orcas, away from the kingdom, just to be free of stress with a ring on your finger, a cute house with a nice garden and all of the alone time in the world.

- he’s a nice in between of GW and Lee. He’s sweet like Lee, but a bit tough like GW, but not too tough where he’s a total overly confident, tough boy-douche most of the time.

- btw he’s total dad material..just throwing that out.

GW

- he acts like he doesn’t enjoy your physical affection (he’s LYING!!!)

- his face is fully flush while he’s calling it ‘stupid’ as well!

- he secretly enjoys alll the affection you give him

- now, as for him, his love language is probably acts of service.

- he fights over you, shows you he loves you by being productive and helping with stuff you could’ve easily done and saying “human, I can just do it better.”

- everyone can see he’s soft with you, even if he denies it.

- its like the ‘bad boy with a soft spot’ trope.

- late at night you two cuddle, he’s very cold, but he has a firm grip on you, so it’s futile to try and get away from him.

- he doesn’t leave ‘love bites’ he leaves full on nasty bite marks. All purple or red with the outline of his sharp teeth,

- he protects u no matter what.

Tiggy

- oh no.

- rip you

- he’s gonna have you in bed all day.

- this man is freaky deaky…

- but, he’s also best friend material.

- he’s your best friend and boyfriend.

- super funny, will definitely be the type to have you wheezing at 3am and trying to be quiet so the others don’t hear the bursts of chaotic laughter,

- gives you some of his bracelets! So you can match!

- on the contrary to GW, he loves physical affection and showing it off, will be on your lap, you on his lap, borderline making out with you in front of the others, slaps on the butt accompanied by a snicker and a small “sorry..”

- quality time is his love language! He just adores hanging out with you. Face masks and a movie or running around the palace annoying people he just likes being near you.

- you guys share clothes. He takes your oversized hoodies, you take his. It’s mutual.

- he nuzzles you a ton.

- like, cuteness aggression.

- overall, good boyfriend, can’t keep his hands to himself though..

Lee

- I don’t really like Lee, personally.

- he’s too forgiving. He forgave and defended the doctor that tied mc up and forced them to drink that the potion of lust…

- that’s just me..anyway to the headcanons now.

- he’s wholesome, picnic dates and putting flowers in each others hair, dancing in his room and making little forts.

- anytime anywhere he’ll sneak a little kiss, if it’s in public, albeit a little flushed but he’ll still sneak a small kiss on the cheek or finger tip.

- he’s really interested in games of all types, and learning. So he likes learning about random facts with you, and playing new games he got or made up.

- super energetic, he’s like a ball of energy that transfers over to you.

- he gets flustered easily.

- he hates fighting. Even if you were like “the sky is pink” and he’ll be like “yeah!”

- ‘me and my girl don’t argue she tells me to shut up and I do.’

Akhelios

- he’s very confident.

- he expects you to praise him 24/7. Ah yes mortal, more praise, more affection.

- in turn he will shower you with jewels, clothes, rooms in the castle.

- he never quite loved someone like you, be patient.

- yes, he does have kids and such. But he’s never actually cared for someone that wasn’t him. It’s a foreign feeling

- he loves you oh so much though

- he just has a weird way of showing it.

- he likes cuddles. He’ll cuddle you in front of whoever.

Stryker

- he’s extremely misunderstood.

- he misses his late wife more than anything. So when you come around looking like her he’s tripping.

- he’ll start out gently trying to push you to be like them. Her pjs, what instrument she played, her favourite foods.

- you naturally pulled away, and he feels this.

- he has a lot of self-reevaluating to do, and learns that he needs to love you for you, not for the soul of his late wife.

- he learns about you, what you like to do, what you like to eat, what you find interesting.

- it’s refreshing.

- falling in love again after losing his wife is scary. But nonetheless he spoils you. He gifts you insane gifts, he gives you massages, kisses, praise.

- he just might be the best boyfriend / husband on this list ngl.

- I know many people don’t really like Stryker because of him seeing mc for his late wife but give him a break..it’s a lot to process and he was sick in love.

- now, he’s fully in love with you, who you are.

- it’s sweet:(.

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