#readers should have some idea of what's going to happen but i honestly have no clue LMAO

[spencerrreiddd]

Three, Two, One. - Chapter 2

Summary: After telling Spencer that you’re pregnant with his baby- how is he going to react? what’s going to happen now?

Pairing: UnitChief!Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Warnings: Pregnancy, Mention of abortion, Angst, Fluff?

WC: 3.0k

A/N: - chapter 2 has finally made its ARRIVAL! enjoy ! 🔪🤍

UPDATE: chapter 2 is under an editing process !

Three, Two, One. - Chapter 1.

"Spencer, I'm pregnant - You are the last person I slept with. I am pregnant with your baby" You said it before you even had time to think about what you had said, it wasn't lies but telling him now?

You could visibly see all of the color leave Spencer's face, you wondered what was going through his big genius brain, if anything at all.

"W-what? We were careful, we were very careful." -

Before you could even produce words, you were cut off again by Spencer and the panic coursing through his entire being.

"How could this of even happened, Y/N?" He asked quickly, making his panic more and more obvious by the second.

"Spencer, you are fully aware of how this happens and careful isn't always guaranteed to be 100% effective" After the words came out of your mouth, you realized it was a bit snippy but- c’mon, Spencer is a genius. He of all people should know that being careful and using protection is always 100%.

All he could do was stare, like he wanted to say something but had no idea how to start moving his lips to speak the words. He was frozen in place.

"I- I know we are not in a relationship, Penelope told me that you were talking to someone and that's fine- if you don't want any part in this, I will keep my lips sealed" You continued, it broke more of your heart saying that.

You knew Spencer, you know Spencer and you know that he isn't the type of person to abandon someone with his child- You would be 100% fine being a single parent and healthily co-parenting with him, if that is what it came down to but you would be lying to yourself, if you said you didn’t want a relationship with him. You’ve wanted a relationship with him for years, you just never spoke on your feelings so a beautiful friendship wasn’t ruined because of it.

"Y/N, I'm just in shock, I mean, I wasn't expecting this- I was expecting something after the conversation I walked up on with Alvez and Garcia but not this" You honestly could understand what he was saying but did it hurt? Of course, it did but you are also taking his feelings into consideration.

And what conversation did he walk in on with Alvez and Garcia anyways?

Spencer could barely look you in the eye, he was starting to pace around like a dog that needed to go out for the potty.

"If you need time to let this all sink in, that's okay with me and I understand, honestly. This is a lot to take in, in a short amount of time" You could sympathize with him, for godsakes it's still hard for you to accept whats happening but you know you have to accept it.

"I just need some time to- to bring this all in, It's just a lot" He says, finally looking you in the eyes.

"I will contact you, Y/N. I won't leave you in the dark, please trust my word on that" His eyes pleading with you to trust him, to trust what he is saying to you.

And to be entirely honest, you do trust him. You trust him with your entire life but it doesn't stop the pain that you feel in your chest and how suffocating the pain is.

"Take your time, please. I understand that it's a lot, Spence- just don’t leave me in the dark” You surprisingly manage to choke out with the hot tears pricking your eyes.

Watching him walk out of your apartment tore you apart, you wanted to chase after him, beg him to come back, wrap his arms around you and tell you that it's all going to be okay but it was all wishful dreaming.

Right now, all you wanted to do was curl up in a ball and cry and maybe stuff your face with sweet treats, sweet treats that you didn't even have but you knew who would have them.

to: ‘Penelope Garcia 🖥️💖🍩’

'are you busy? - I need someone and I need sweet treats, please come through for me, my sweet crazy lady'

You could at least giggle at yourself with the little random nickname you through in there at the end of your text message. Ever since you joined the BAU and met Pen, y’all were best friends, she was there for the worst times of your live and for the best times of it.

You always thought, if she can produce weird and funny nicknames for people then you can to- outside of Spencer, she was the one you grew very close to.

You were close with everyone and you loved them dearly- Rossi, Tara, JJ, all of them but it just seemed so much easier with Penelope.

from: ‘Penelope Garcia 🖥️💖🍩’

'I am on my speedy way, my sweet sugar plum'

All you could manage to do after reading her text was zone out and stare at a random wall in your apartment, other than feeling like your heart was absolutely shattered, you wren't sure if you were even happy about all of this- maybe, just maybe if the situation would've been different, you could probably be happier.

Have you always wanted children? Of course! but before getting pregnant did you at least want to be in a stable relationship or marriage? Also, yes.

Before you even realized how much time had passed, Penelope was running through your front door and holding all of your favorite sweet treats- Honey Buns, Oatmeal Cream Pies and your ultimate favorite, Fudge Rounds.

As soon as she was fully in the door and sat everything down, you collapsed in her arms crying your heart out. Everything, the tears and the sobs had been waiting to spill out until this moment.

"Okay, okay, what's going on" Worry coating her voice - "Nobody could reach you after you ran out of work, even Spencer was worried about you!- Did you get any of my texts or voicemails"

"I told him- I told him about the baby. It all came out before I could even process my thoughts" You had a small amount of hope in your soul that she would be able to understand that through your sobs.

Looking at Pen after you said that, you could see the wheels turning in her head. Realization setting in.

"Reid came by here? By your apartment?" She questioned.

"Yeah, I was just relaxing and came out to the kitchen and I nearly ran right smack into him. He nearly gave me a heart attack in my own house" You were still unappreciative of that scare to say the least.

"Ho-how did he take the news"

"Not horrible but not how a woman would hope her-"

"Person would react" Penelope cuts you off seeing as you couldn't even figure out you own words.

"Exactly but as hard as it is, he isn't even my person. He's my boss, Pen. My boss. Our boss got me pregnant because we stupidly decided to have sex a few times to release the stress of work and life because evidently, we couldn't just sit down over coffee and vent to each other" You don't feel shame admitting that, should you? Maybe but you and Spencer are both adults.

Now that you're thinking about it, he never did confirm or deny, if he was talking to someone or not- It probably wasn't your business but at the same time, you felt like it was. I mean, you are carrying his child and you don't want to be responsible for tearing apart a relationship or a relationship that is forming.

Spencer has been through enough hurt with JJ and with Maeve. You couldn't bear the hurt and the guilt of causing him more pain like that or even similar to it.

Remembering and witnessing his pain first hand after Maeve was gut-wrenching, it made you want to lay and sob right there with him.

from: Spencer 'The Genius' Reid

'I'm sorry for how I left, how I was unable to sit down and talk with you. Can we meet tomorrow?

'It would be good to sit and talk about all of this and there are things that I need to tell you, still.'

You couldn't even look at the message, so you had Penelope read it and just simply asked her to tell you if it was good or if it was bad.

"He wants to sit and talk to you, says he is sorry for how he left- I would say that's a good message" Handing you your phone back, so you could message him back. If you could even bring yourself to do that. In reality, you knew that it was the right thing to do.

to: Spencer 'The Genius' Reid

'Sure, I would feel comfortable speaking here, at my apartment. Is that okay with you? You can come over at any time tomorrow- If not, let me know and we can figure out another place to meet'

"I asked him if we could just meet and talk here. Do you think that's okay to even ask? Asking him to come here? I should've asked where he felt comfortable meeting" You are beginning to overthink everything and rambling on- you care about Reid's feelings but right now, you're caring for yourself more as selfish as that sounds.

"Y/N, that's a perfectly fine thing to ask- what's gonna happen? He's going to knock you up.. again? Y'all are talking, not getting under the sheets" How she said it made you laugh a bit considering the situation.

from: Spencer 'The Genius' Reid

'That's fine with me, Y/N- I will be there at 10:30.'

You surprisingly feel relief washing over you reading his message-

'Let's just hope tomorrow goes better' You think to yourself.

“Oh. Pen. What conversation did Spencer walk in on you and Alvez having, anyways?”

“I saw you run out of work and I knew at that point, Alvez opened his mouth about something I shouldn’t have even spoken to him about and I’m sorry, for telling him- we didn’t tell Reid anything, though” She admits, you weren’t mad at her- you just had confusion after hearing Spencer say he overheard their conversation.

After a few hours of eating sweets and watching Modern Family with Penny, you started getting tired -

"I'm getting tired, Pen- I'm gonna go to bed, you're welcome to crash on the couch, if you're too tired to drive" Partially hinting at her that you wanted to be alone but you still didn't want her falling asleep behind the wheel and hurting herself or someone else.

"Don't be silly, I'm never too tired and plus, I enjoy sleeping on my own couch, if i'm sleeping on any couch, ma'am" She deadpans as she stands to leave.

Hugging her good-bye and giving her the biggest thank you for coming over to calm you and well, the sweets too.

"I love you, Penny- I'm also keeping these sweets. I know my pregnancy cravings will appreciate them soon and you for bringing them"

"You better be happy that I love and adore you, I wanted to take the Honey Buns with me- oh, and yes, I love my next god-child too" She says in a jokingly way while walking out the door.

After Penelope left, you decided that you did need sleep even though you would probably be struggling to even close your eyes because of your wonderful habit to and overthink every tiny thing about anything and everything in you life- all of this going on with Spencer is just fueling your ability to overthink. Lovely.

'What if he asks me to get rid of it' 'What if he ends up being a deadbeat and i'm stuck raising this baby alone' 'What if we can't co-parent in a healthy way and it causes the child trauma' - Any and every 'what if' flew through your mind. It felt like hours before your eyes finally closed and you were able to get sleep.

After waking up to the sun shining directly into your eyes, you roll over just to see 10:27 A.M on your alarm clock. - You don't remember ever having to fly out of bed that quickly, except maybe when you were in school and running late or even yesterday with work.

Walking out of your room and into the living room to sit in peace for about a minute or two before Spencer shows up. The nausea you began to feel was becoming over powering. Was it from pregnancy? Was it from the nerves? You didn't know but you were accepting your fate that you may or may not upchuck everywhere.

10:30 A.M - KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

"Right on time" You mumble to yourself, you weren't expecting him to be a minute early or late.

"Come in" You yell, not having any energy to stand up and not wanting to move because it was making your nausea 10x worse.

"Hey" He greets coming through your door, he doesn't appear to have gotten any sleep- his hair messy, he has dark bags under his eyes.

"Hey, glad to see you showed- I'm sorry, I didn't mean that in a horrible way, I know what you said yesterd- I'm rambling. I'm glad you're here, Spencer" Another bad habit of yours, rambling on and on when you were nervous.

"Me too. Where do you want to start- I mean, I've never had to have this conversation with anyone else before" You could clearly hear the nerves in his voice.

You know you want to keep the baby. Regardless of what happens between you and Spencer. Tell him that.

"I'm keeping the baby, Spencer. That's my plan. I know we aren't in a relationship and we don't have to be to healthily co-parent and if you don't want to be involved, I understand because you're working on building a relationship with someone else but-" Spencer cuts you off before you can continue on with your rambling.

"Okay, pause for just a minute. I'm not in a relationship, I'm not working towards a relationship with anyone else. Where are you getting that information?" He asks with slight irritation in his voice.

"Penelope did, I went into work yesterday and I told her about me being pregnant, blah blah blah- she told me that you had a girlfriend, as far as she knew at least because the contact name for her 'wasn't a name you gave a friend"

"Y/N, getting back to the point then I will come back and touch on that- I wanted you to keep this baby, I want you to keep our baby. I've always wanted to be a dad, you know that about me. I want to be here every step of the way with you, with our child" Spencer is looking into your eyes with every word coming from his lips.

"And to touch on this topic because the names in my contacts are evidently Penelope's business, the name she is referring to is 'Pretty Girl', which is you, Y/N- Since we're on the honesty road, Y/N, I love you and I mean that, I've loved you for years, this isn't coming out of nowhere for me and it's not because of our current situation, either" You're blown away by everything Spencer has just said to you to say the absolute least.

Honestly, now that your mind isn't running a marathon, you could pinpoint certain changing things between you and Spencer- the longing looks between one another, bringing each other breakfast and coffee in the mornings, which never happened beforehand, the private meetings after work to just talk, nothing sexual ever involved but last but not least, the sex between the two of you.

'He loves me, he loves our child, he's been in love with me for years- I am the weird? contact name in his phone that Pen had spotted.' You think to yourself, seemingly not able to produce words after Spencer's confessions.

"Spence, I don't even know what to say or how to begin saying it. - I love you, I loved you since the first time I saw you walk into the bullpen and Gideon introduced his newest prodigy to all of us. - I'm happy, so happy that you want to be apart of our babies life and be here for us."

Neither of you have words after you both say your peace, you've both just poured your hearts out but your eyes are still saying so many things to each other.

"Y/N, I love you and I want a future with you. I want to have a family with you, if you'll allow it" Spencer confesses further moving closer to you.

"I would love that, Spencer" It came out as a whisper but with how close he was to you, to your face- you know that he heard you.

Moving even closer, Spencer takes your face in his hands and kisses you gently- It's a kiss that you can tell is filled with love, comfort and pure gentleness. Nothing like the kisses y'all shared in bed when y'all were just trying to reach an orgasm after a rough case.

Finally, you both break apart, breathing heavily, foreheads resting against each others.

"Not to ruin such a beautiful moment that I have been waiting years for, what's going on with all the 'Little Debbie' boxes" Spencer jokingly asks you, finally realizing the boxes you forgot to put away last night.

"Penelope was here last night, I asked her to come over with sweets after you had left- I needed honey buns to cope" Shrugging your shoulders saying it, you had no shame in your sweet tooth game and you certainly wouldn't when your pregnancy cravings really started attacking you.

"So, another quick thing- of all people, why would you tell Alvez and Garcia this news?" Spencer looking at you, confused as ever as to why you would tell two of the biggest blabbers.

"I didn't tell Alvez, I told Garcia and she "let it slip" to Alvez- Alvez is why I left the other day. He came up to me talking about it loud enough for anyone else to hear him, if they were paying any attention at all- It got to me, frustrated me. I should've communicated better but, I wasn't exactly coping well yesterday" There was nothing to hold back now and frankly, at this point, you had zero shame about any of that and any of what was currently happening.

"I'm not upset- I was worried, I should've came myself after I heard that you left, I should've at the very least sent someone to come and check on -"

"Spencer, it's okay. I would've probably ignored the knocking of anyone and my phone was on do not disturb anyways, I wanted to be alone. Don't beat yourself up about this. We're okay. I love you." You couldn't stop yourself from cutting him off, you couldn't stand to watch him beat himself up, you couldn't stand watching anyone beat themselves up.

"Y/N, I love you and I want you to be mine, I want this family."

"And I love you, Spencer and I want to be yours and I want you to be apart of this family. I loved you then and I love you now."

not going to lie, i thought this was going to be a 3 part story- not including the epilogue that i do plan to make for this mini-series.

i, personally am happy with how this turned out with this being my first writing in so long and being rusty to say the least.

i hope you, my dearies, enjoyed reading it and i hope you look forward to more stories coming your way.

PLEASE MAKE SURE TO LEAVE FEEDBACK

TAGLIST: @donttrustlove @sebastiansstanswhore @eddiesdrummergf @hayleythecannibal @fanfic-viewer @kyrathekiller @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @diffidentphantom @ivet4

IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE TAGGED IN FUTURE STORIES or FOR THE EPILOGUE- slide into my inbox and let me know so that i can get you on my list !

[aihoshiino]

chapter 161 thoughts

Chapters Since The 143 Kiss Happened And Went Entirely Unacknowledged And Unaddressed Count: 18

Aqua Hoshigan Status: For the future

Never has an OnK chapter gone from It's Hoshinover to We Are Oshi no Back quite as hard and fast as this one. I have issues with this chapter in terms of what it implies about the story's overall structure and the fact that it sort of ruins 153-4 by association but this chapter's back half is so fucking good and the chapter itself works so well in isolation that much like 153-4, I kind of uhhh don't care about the structural issues because the story's heart is, for the most part, not just intact but beating harder and more passionately than it has in a long time.

To get what I don't like out of the way, the story seems to have settled on Super Evil Serial Killer Mastermind Kamiki as his final form characterization with some helpful Tsukuyomi exposition to just straightforwardly Tell Us things the manga probably should have spent some of the last 70something chapters Showing Us about Hikaru. The basic idea of Hikaru being some sort of serial killer so dedicated to upholding Ai's legacy that he kills women with the potential to surpass her was more or less always where I expected his character to land and this settling of his character does at least preserve what I think is the most important thing: that he genuinely loved Ai and his bent towards villainy only came after her death.

What I don't love as much is that this chapter seems to continue leaning into Uber God Manipulator Mastermind Kamiki like last chapter. I already talked at length about my issues with this framing in my previous chapter review so all I'll reiterate here is that the story's attempt to frame Hikaru as being equally or even more culpable for the actions of Nino and Ryosuke fall entirely flat to me, especially when the manga itself does such a pisspoor job of actually explaining how or why Kamiki was able to control and/or predict their actions to the extent that he supposedly did. And ESPECIALLY especially given that Nino and Ryosuke seem to have already been dangerously obsessed with Ai by the time they approached him.

In general, Hikaru's character is honestly just so inconsistent at this point that making any sense of his actions feels fruitless. If I really dig into what's going on, I can infer that maybe he fell into the same trap as Aqua by overcompensating for his trauma-induced helplessness by becoming overly controlling and guess that his fucked up trauma response to Ai's death combined with those terrible words Kindaichi gave him at Airi's funeral lead him down he road he's traveling now. I can even extrapolate that Aqua showing him the DVD message in 153-4 pushed Hikaru to this extreme and now that he has nothing to lose, he's lashing out at his children too - though, it should be noted, that the manga still hasn't actually established what Hikaru's culpability is in Nino's attempt on Ruby's life, outside of Aqua saying "well you didn't use your psychic powers to perfectly predict nino's actions so it's on you".

But like - this is all stuff I'm having to infer and extrapolate and guess, reverse engineering logic from our end point in an attempt to create a stable foundation for this characterization. The manga has done such a poor job of properly establishing Hikaru both as an antagonistic force and as a consistent character that I feel like I'm trying to assemble a coherent image from two different puzzle sets with all the fucking corner pieces missing and that's with Crow Girl looking into the camera and Explaining Him to me.

And listen, I am a bitch who LOVES to infer things. One of my absolute favourite pieces of fiction of all time ever is Umineko no Naku Koro Ni, a mystery story that literally does not contain any straightforwardly explicit, textual confirmation of the culprit's identity or motives because it believes so strongly that you, the reader, are smart enough and empathetic enough to put in the time and effort necessary to understand it regardless and it deeply, deeply values being able to give you that experience. But OnK feels less like it's intentionally encouraging me to think hard and enjoy the process of putting my head and my heart to work - it feels like it's leaving its homework unfinished and letting the reader do the actual hard work of sewing up the internal logic.

I probably won't talk much more about Kamiki this chapter cos I'd just be saying all this shit over and over but I really just am struggling to understand from a perspective of authorial intent what the vibe is even supposed to be. Like I mentioned in a previous ask, if this is where Kamiki's arc is reaching its conclusion then it means that the Movie Arc was essentially a whole-ass waste of time in and out of universe. Blech. Hate that.

Also, before I move on, I don't want to leave this just implied - making Kamiki explicitly a CSA victim and then ending his arc on Aqua (and implicitly the narrative) dismissing him as being too broken/corrupted to be saved is a really major misstep that I think represents a huge black mark on OnK's handling of CSA as a topic. The idea of an eternal defilement or an unfixable core wrongness in the self is already something real life CSA victims struggle with in the process of unpacking their trauma and having our likable and supposedly morally superior protagonist espouse this unchallenged in a work as prominent and relevant as Oshi no Ko is irresponsible bordering on dangerous. It's incredibly disappointing that after all the care Aka and Mengo seemingly took in handling this topic that it was whiffed so badly at the last second.

ANYWAY!!! Now all the beef's been dealt with, we can cleanse our palettes and move onto everything else I liked which was… basically everything else in this chapter!

Admittedly, Aqua's overall arc is still suffering from us being kicked out of his head from like 123 onwards for no real apparent reason and while 150 was a welcome refresher on where he's at in this part of the story, it still feels a bit like the story is prioritizing preserving the surprise factor of its twists over making these surprises feel earned. Compare it to volume 1 - you are basically told exactly what is going to happen to Ai, especially in the manga when Saitou and Gotanda outright say as much - but her death is still incredibly impactful and upsetting. I think this chapter is very effective, but could've been a lot moreso if we'd spent more time in Aqua's head leading up to it.

THAT SAID… If the intention of keeping us out of his head was to recontextualize Aqua's behaviour across the past ten or so chapters in this new light, I don't hate it as much as I might have. I initially took issue with what felt like the story off-screening and not addressing the resolution to Aqua's suicidal ideation so whipping back around to prove that it was still very much present puts some particular Aqua moments over this past volume into a very different light. As some people pointed out, Aqua missing Kana's pitch - literally dropping the ball in responding to her feelings - and his wide-eyed look of alarm in 151 seemed very ominous omens for the success of her confession and that beat of him covering his face when Kana approves of his dream… very incheresting knowing Aqua was still struggling with 'love or revenge' at this point.

Most interesting of all to reconsider is Aqua breaking down in tears in Miyako's arms in 155 when she addresses him as her son for the first time. At the time it read like catharsis but now I can't help but wonder if this was Aqua grieving for something he desperately wants but thinks is out of his reach.

i do have to say though. i get the general vibe of this plan and think it works fine as the apex of aqua's self-sacrificial protectiveness for the people he loves but how is being the daughter of a serial killer somehow any less scandalous for her career than being the sister of someone who killed one dude. does aqua think they just won't notice that kamiki happens to be their biodad or something. wasn't that the whole point of the movie. goofy ass plan.

What really saves this whole scenario is the emotions at play, though. This really does feel like Aqua at his most Aqua in a really long while and this chapter has so much love and respect for his life as Aqua and the bonds he has formed as a result. The dreams Aqua lays out are so agonizingly simple, too - he wants to pursue the career he finds rewarding. He wants to date the girl he likes. He wants to accept Miyako as his mom and Himekawa as his brother and to make things right with Akane after hurting and using her. He wants to see Ruby achieve her dream and be there to support her when she does.

But Aqua's always considered his dreams impossible, hasn't he?

I fully admit; I got spoiled with the full page spread of Aqua stabbing himself way in advance of the chapter and initially hated it as a twist. But with the full chapter as context and the sheer weight of Aqua's longing to just fucking live and find joy, it's not just effective but absolutely gutwrenching. It is the synthesis of Aqua's series-long battle to choose love or revenge and it resonates perfectly because it has never been one or the other for him - Aqua's revenge has always been rooted in the fact that he loves others so wholly and completely and hates himself so utterly that he thinks sacrificing himself to preserve their futures is the only path for him to take. It's the culmination and final release of the suicidal ideation Aqua has been dealing with since he was four years old and like Ai's tragedy before him, there's a horrible sense that maybe there really was no other way this could've gone.

Aqua being the character who actually takes the knife also firmly cements him as Ai's narrative echo in the text which has me barkin and howlin because it's what I've been saying all this time. Not just that, but so many of Aqua's expressions in this chapter pointedly and deliberately echo Ai's after she was stabbed. Not just that, but Aqua's achingly simple dreams echo Ai's own heartrendingly simple regrets - all the two of them ever wanted was to be happy with the people they love.

This also reframes the story's prior establishment of Ruby as paralleling Ai and seems to place the twins in the position of echoing not Ai in her entirety but Ruby as 'Ai of B-Komachi' and Aqua as 'Ai Hoshino'. This was actually something I outlined in one of my very first meta posts on the series, but I think making it more specific to 'Ruby as Ai the idol' and 'Aqua as Ai the human', this actually gives Ruby's arc in relation to Ai a bit of breathing room. Don't get me wrong, everything I've said about her post-BH writing being underbaked and inconsistent is still the case, especially when it comes to how confused the story is on whether Ruby is her own idol or New And Improved Ai 2.0 but giving it less ground to cover helps in terms of her writing no longer being spread quite as thin.

Speaking of Ruby, that beat of her seeming to react or sense something is up the moment Aqua takes the stab. 'Something happened to my loved one far away and I just Feel It' is a trope I'm always a sucker for and I really dig it here.

"The public don't care about the truth, so let's tell them a lie" is such a crazy hard sentiment to go out on too. Holy fuck.

There go our boys…!!! Quite a few people predicted they might go over the edge when Aqua showed up in his Mephisto fit (Mefitsto) and I'm interested to see if we get any parallels to the ED's imagery in the next few chapters. Overall, though, I'm really excited for where things are going - I don't think Aqua will die, but I do have some theories about what might happen. I can't think of a more traditional misogi purification experience than the middle of the ocean in late December, after all…

No break next week! Woohoo! While the delay of episode 12 means we won't be getting them on the same day, that is the same week S2 of the anime will be concluding and Aka does like lining up his bombshells with the anime. So who knows what we'll see.

seriously tho aqua. everyone already knows kamiki is you and ruby's biodad. HOW IS THIS ANY BETTER THAN HER BEING THE DAUGHTER OF A SERIAL KILLER AS IT ALREADY STANDS

[seoafin]

No, the shit that happened with Megumi was my breaking point I think. Everything started going downhill for me with the culling games, where it was nothing but battles. I like a good choreographed battle, but man, I have limits. Like, I really can’t fathom what could happen from here and I don’t think Gege can redeem himself in my eyes

yeahhhhhh im so confused as to where this entire plot with sukuna is going and where kenjaku's plans come into all of this. like what is going ON. i feel it's most plausible that it's all just a set up for gojo to get out of the box and 1v1 sukuna, but then we have kenjaku and foreign interference???? where did all the japanese citizens even evacuate. shouldn't we know what's happening in JAPAN before we see the us special military forces!???!?? what is sukuna's plan anyway??? wreak havoc???

[lyrefromthesea]

(Ignore this if this if u don’t want to do this) May I request something? I would love to see some masturbation headcanons about the pillars, while away on a mission for too long or just needy in general and their S/O is either ignoring/teasing them on purpose or just not available.

Take care and good night/day!

🌙

Male pillars x Reader - masturbating when you're away

author's note: i think i messed up Rengoku's part, the reader is sitting right in front of him. i sadly don't have time to change it, but i hope you'll still find pleasure reading his part.

pairing: Tengen x reader, Obanai x reader, Rengoku x reader, Sanemi x reader, Giyuu x reader, Gyomei x reader

content warning: nsfw, smut

Tengen:

• honestly, really doesn't masturbate often, he's together with four gorgeous people after all

• will only do it when he's on a long mission

• or after you teased him relentlessly, not because he's that desperate (he is), but to punish you.

the door was locked, your ear pressed against the wood separating Tengen and you. he had locked himself inside, not going to accept your teasing any longer.

"your fault, darling." he moaned, refusing to let you in. you could hear the slick sound of his hand moving up and down his cock.

truthfully, he would've almost felt embarrassed showing it to you, your teasing touches and words now made his irritated cock oversensitive.

"maybe next time you wanted to fuck, you could've just told me.." he groaned, the sound making warmth spread to your lower body.

yes, this was his way of punishing you, he just didn't expect to hear you moan on the other side of the door, deciding to make him taste his own medicine.

he squeezed the base of his cock tightly, trying to prevent himself from cumming. shit, he didn't know you would pull this kind of stunt on him.

Obanai:

• not the kind of person to masturbate because he feels the need to

• probably started when he fell in love with you and wanted to feel your body against his

• would never tell you what happened behind closed doors

"s- shit.." he gasped, hand steadily stroking his dick. he didn't think his day would end like this, but his body reacted involuntarely when you two interacted.

it wasn't much, you just needed to get past him and squeezed your body past his. however, feeling your chest press against his own send his mind reeling.

he had immediately hurried home, locking himself up to take care of his problem. however, he couldn't stop thinking of you - your touch.

"i just want you.." he moaned, trying to let his frustration out. naturally, his movements got more rough, making his poor cock twitch from the overstimulation.

"damn it..!" he cursed, pulling his hand away with a whimper. he felt pathetic, but couldn't stop either.

was it so hard to just talk to you already?

Rengoku:

• this man doesn't masturbate at all. (not really, but y'know what i mean.)

• weirdly enough, would probably do it if you ask him

• mutual masturbation? he'll do it

"i didn't.. i didn't think it would feel this good.." he panted, hand trying to match the rhythm you were using on yourself. his eyebrows were furrowed, sweat making hair stick to his head.

"do you feel g- good too?" he asked, lips parted - he felt like hyperventilating otherwise.

his eyes were trained on your hands, watching the way you were playing with yourself. something about seeing you like this - needy and desperate - managed to get him so much harder.

however, your hands faltered, watching him stroke his dick, making you slowly forget about moving. you were entranced by his moans, often harmonizing with yours.

"h- hey! you need to keep going t- too.." he moaned, snapping you out of your trance. you started moving your hands again, moaning at the familiar feeling of pleasure.

who knew masturbating like this could be this erotic? perhaps you should introduce him to other ideas in bed too.

Sanemi:

• does jack off every now and then, it was like that before he met you already

• will always prefer sex with you if he has the chance, masturbating is his last resort

• mostly on missions, somehow always turns it rough

the message he received from you - delivered from a small crow - was meant to be innocent.

when you wrote about how you missed his touch, you refered to the times the two of you would sit together and cuddle or lay in bed. it's not your fault he interpreted it differently.

for him your message felt like an endless tease, clouding his mind with the thoughts of your shared intimacy. naturally, being the man he was, he was pissed.

"y- you little.." he groaned, burying his head in the pillow right next o him. he didn't need the people next door hearing him jack off.

"when i get back and your needy little ass won't be there- fuck!" his groans turned louder, the movement of his hand turning even rougher.

life was unfair, he was fucking horny because of you and you weren't even there to take responsibility for it. he could only thrust into his hand, pretending it was you.

"i'll fuck you, j- just you wait.." he spoke, already having forgotten that he had wanted to be silent. his thoughts were completely on you, imagining the way he would take you when he came back home.

and truthfully, you knew this was going to happen, didn't you?

Giyuu:

• nearly never touched himself before meeting you, it skyrocketed with your relationship

• will not touch himself while he's away

• turns into a whining mess when you're the one going away

"[name], [name], [name]..!" he chanted, eagerly bucking into his hand. it's only been four days, but he was desperate to be in your arms again - to hold you in his arms.

he had tried to stay civil at first, going on about his day, but after the second night of being alone, he found himself sleeping on your side of the bed, breathing in the remains of your sweet scent.

he didn't want to get hard from it, he really didn't, it just happened. it was too late to stop when he realized what he was doing, already grinding against the mattress.

"i want to cum, i want to cum so bad.." he gasped, whines leaving his lips with every thrust of his cock. his knees were pushing his lower body up, left arm holding his upper body up.

he knew it was lewd, that others would probably laugh at him for behaving like this, but he was in need of your presence.

"gonna cum for you, gonna cum for you.. s- so hard.." he whimpered, not noticing how the front door opened.

you would return today, but blinded by his feelings, he had completely forgotten.

well, at least the sight of his shaking body would be a nice surprise for you.

Gyomei:

• truthfully, nearly doesn't masturbate at all

• will probably do it while being away for a mission for a long time

• would probably feel guilty after thinking of you during such a lewd act

"ah, [name].." he muttered, strong hand wrapped around his shaft. his head was dipped down, eyes closed in concentration.

he had been masturbating for a while now, his cock twitching in hand. he was close, the sound of your voice lingering in his mind. the melodic sound of your laugh always managed to bring him closer to ecstacy.

"i hope you can forgive me for this, darling.." he groaned, trying to keep his voice down. he climaxed silently, knowing that people were staying in the room next door.

he felt his cum ooze out silently, his other hand covering his mouth. he had to stay in an inn for this mission, but other people had rented rooms in this place.

he opened his eyes slowly, his lips parted to take deep breaths. he knew you probably wouldn't mind, but he still felt guilt bubble up in him.

[goldenhypen]

✴︎ ⎯ interrupting them with a kiss

pairing | enhypen x reader

genre | fluff

wc | 1.2k

warnings | kissing lol + some playful teasing/bickering,, lmk if there’s anything else!

a/n | first work since the hiatus omg hope y’all enjoy i haven’t done one of these in a whileee

HEESEUNG ♡

this boy is literally in the middle of answering a question YOU just asked but you can’t help but notice how ADORABLE he looks right now

wearing his oversized hoodie that engulfs his entire tall form somehow manages to make him look so tiny before you

and so you can’t just sit there and act like you’re okay

you can’t hold it in you anymore

so you kiss him

“oh…” he says, blinking at you, pleasantly surprised as you pull away. “do that again, please,” he smirks with more of a demanding voice this time

LEE HEESEUNG????

you’re left there at a loss for words at this reaction you didn’t expect to elicit from him

and so noticing you’re not doing anything, he decides to take things into his own hands

literally thanos’ “fine. i’ll do it myself” but make it intimate, sexy and lee heeseung

and you catch yourself melting under the hot touch of your boyfriend as his lips immediately find yours

JAY ♡

after kissing him all of a sudden, he lowk flinches and looks at you wide-eyed before acting like you didn’t just make his heart suddenly rush at 150 miles per hour whilst simultaneously doing hundreds of flips in his chest

he looks at you with a questioning type of look before laughing, attempting to mask his now flustered state before letting out a confused, “what the…”

“sorry, you were talking, then i realized how pretty your lips were looking as you were talking, and then you talked some more, and i—couldn’t hold back :)”

he scoffs playfully while letting his eyes shut half closed, still looking at you with an unamused (actually, very amused) stare, “so are you gonna let me finish what i was saying—”

“or should we make out for a few minutes? :D”

“y/n!”

no but after exposing him to the idea, soon the only thing leaving his lips were yours every time you had to catch your breath— (oop)

JAKE ♡

honestly,,, he’s barely taken aback??? 😭😭

like jake srsly? 😭 way to ruin the fun 🙄

nO BUT YK WHAT HAPPENS NEXT THO???

okay so you were the one messing with him, right? buT SOMEHOW BEFORE YOU KNOW IT HE’S THE ONE HAVING FUN MAKING YOU FLUSTERED DJDNDJDJ

literally turning this entire thing around like it’s some game

and so now he’s the one having you forming into a useless ball of mush as he suddenly takes hold of your face, kissing you back passionately like he thinks you can handle it or something 😭

lucky for you he’s holding you so even if every muscle in your body shuts down, having you weak under his touch, LIKE IT DOESNT FEEL LIKE IT BUT you are safe and secure with him <3

moral of the story: almost always whenever your lips meet his and you pull away, his brain just automatically takes it that he needs your lips back on his again asap and he’ll do whatever it takes to get what he wants

this boy puts a whole lot of value on the kisses he gets to share with you. sorry i don’t make the rules 🤷🏻‍♀️

SUNGHOON ♡

sunghoon is just smiling as he reminisces out loud some memories you two shared from a while back

and if you’re being honest, the moments he brought back to life through his words started to make you fall in love with him all over again

you smile ear to ear just as he is and suddenly you catch yourself staring at his lips,, maybe it was the pretty smile you were just always so attracted to…

*peck*

“hey! what was that for?!” your boyfriend exclaims, very obviously flustered by your sudden move on his lips and djdjsjsj you catch a glimpse of his cheeks growing red before he turns away to hide his cute face with his hands

is that not just the most adorablejejsjdjd

he takes a few deep breaths in to compose himself before turning back around, ready to scold you (ZJDJDJ yes hoon you go !! dhdjdj)

“y/n, you can’t just do that!”—yup, great one, hoon, keep going—“i—was talking! and that was rude to interrupt me while i was talking…yeah! and actually, i should be the one making you flustered! not the other way around!”

smoothhh

“oh, so i made you flustered then?”

“hey!—you—no! i’m just saying…”

you let out a small chuckle, “cute.”

“what did you just say?”

“i said you’re cu—“ *peck*

“park sunghoon!” you laugh, in shock

“now look who’s getting shy.”

I— ???

SUNOO ♡

when you suddenly kiss him in the middle of his long run down of the latest gossip between his peers, a gasp leaves his lips as a smile automatically graces his face

“hey!” he hides his face in his hands and chuckles unbelievably, whining playfully, “don’t do that!”

“what? you don’t like it?” you tease

“if you do that again, i’m gonna refuse to even bother talking to you. you hear me? got it?”

oh the sassy little sunoo threats

“mhm, it’s just ‘cause you wanna kiss me so bad too, huh?”

“oh my, y/n,” the boy literally face palms, sighing, “yeah, let’s continue this conversation another time.”

he’s so done (nah he actually loves playfully bickering with you) he literally begins walking off, so you shout, “so is that a yes to more kisses, or???”

“no!!!”

“are you sure??”

“ugh, fine!”

he loves you 🙄😔

JUNGWON ♡

HED GIVE YOU THE BIGGEST CUTEST PUPPY KITTY(??) EYES

like full on adoration

he doesn’t care that you just stopped and interrupted everything he was saying

he thinks it was just so cute that you kissed him like that

a smile grows on his face as he asks what that was for

and you tell him how he just looked cute and you apologize you couldn’t help yourself

and that was when he had it

and he immediately leaned in and kissed you right back

YANG JUNGWON CALM DOWN A BIT PLS ITS TOO MUCH FOR OUR WEAK YN HEARTS-

NI-KI ♡

GETS SO FLUSTERED RIGHT ON THE SPOT

right as you pull back and watch for his reaction he’s letting out a chuckle and pressing his lips together, turning his entire body to face away from your view

he’s in his own world for a moment, processing what just happened before getting flustered again and trying to calm down and compose himself

and so you try to get his attention again. you poke him a few times, “riki? riki? riki?!”

he turns around, TRYING TO ACT ALL COOL AS THOUGH HE WASNT JUST STRUCK WITH THE BIGGEST SWARM OF BUTTERFLIES IN HIS STOMACH

like riki your face is all red, you can’t hide nothin 🙄

“hm?” he asks in the most composed voice and with the calmest face he could pull off (p.s. he was not very good at acting “calm” at all whatsoever and you just couldn’t let this boy have his moment)

“you’re so red right now,” you point out and cackle

“do you wanna kiss again?”

SJSNDJ I— ???? NISHIMURA RIKI!?&@:’!

a/n | lol don’t mind if the tenses were all over the place in this one T-T i tried writing in present tense for once,, let’s hope it stayed that way throughout the whole thing djdjd ,, i hope you liked reading this one! first goldenhypen work in how many months?? hope you lovelies enjoyed !! likes and reblogs are very appreciated mwah <3

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[giannaln4]

Do You Miss Me?

lando norris x fem reader

summary: Four months after your breakup, Lando needs to know if you miss him as much as he misses you, or at least if you still think about him, even if the answer might kill him.  (3k words)

warnings: angst, breakup, cursing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of one-night stands, use of Y/N, happy ending

a/n: FINALLY i wrote some angst. honestly i had this idea in mind sometime last week, but i didn't know where to start. not gonna lie, i really do like how it turned out but i never know how to end fics so it sucks a little towards the end. anyway pls let me know what you think!! feedback is very much appreciated 🫶🏻

↺ back to navigation — send me a request!

Four months. It had been four months of pure agony. Four months since you left him, and for four months, he couldn’t think of anything else than you. 

You wouldn’t say you ended on good terms, considering the last conversation you had was more of an argument about how little you thought he cared about your relationship. 

That was far from the truth, and he tried so hard to convince you otherwise, but clearly it wasn’t enough. You broke up with him that night, leaving his apartment immediately after and never looked back, leaving a broken Lando behind. Two amazing years beside you down the drain just like that. Maybe he should tried harder.

He really shouldn’t have waited till the last second to express how much he cared, and you would probably never know that, but he still does. 

After the first month, he started to give up. You wanted nothing to do with him, and honestly, he didn’t blame you, so when he realised he would never be able to fix it, he stopped trying, but that doesn’t mean he stopped loving you. 

He still remembers vividly when he got back home after a race weekend and went out for a drive, something he thought could help him get his mind off many things that were going on. It worked, at first, it was going great, really, the fresh Monaco air running through his hair as the music blasted through the speakers, Lando singing at the top of his lungs every single word, until he paid attention to the passenger seat and spotted a shiny little tube. He reached for it, and his world went back down when he realised what it was. Your lipgloss. Not any lipgloss, but your favourite one. The one you used to wear every single day and the one he got so used to tasting and smelling. 

After that, it was like something shifted inside him. Lando tried hard to forget about you, going to parties, and getting involved with anyone he could take back to his hotel. He never took anyone back to his apartment, the space contained too many happy memories of the two of you; it was almost sacred to him. He would never dare to stain those with one-night stands. 

Every time he sat on the couch where he watched you leave, for some reason he waited for you to come back. It was stupid; he knew that, but maybe one day you would. And if it wasn’t you, he prayed that at least it was someone just like you. 

Maybe that’s what he was looking for every other night. Sometimes they were good enough to make him forget, but most of the time, they weren’t. They weren’t even close to that, because he thought about your lips when he kissed someone else, he thought about your hands when he felt his hair being pulled softly, he thought about your legs when he had someone else’s wrapped around him, he thought about your eyes when he looked at anyone else. 

Just when he thinks he’s getting over you, something happens that pulls him back in, and he thinks it’s slowly killing him inside. 

Tonight was one of those nights. He was at the club with some of his mates, his mind fully enjoying his surroundings, not a trace of you up there, until that song started playing, that stupid song that you used to hum when cooking a meal for the both of you, his mind bringing him back to all those times he hugged you from behind as he watched you and helped you, humming along with you and planting soft kisses every now and then. Or when you were taking a shower and didn’t care to keep it down, and he would just enjoy the little concert while he laid on your shared bed, waiting for you to come back to him. Or when you played it in repeat every time you were in the car, messing up a few words even though you had heard it a million times. God, he hated that he got a little sick of it back then.

He stopped moving immediately, and instead, he looked around him, only to spot everyone else dancing along with the melody. 

Did no one else care about what that song meant? Did no one else think of you? 

But there was one main topic invading his mind. Did you also think of him when you heard that song? Did you remember all the little moments? Do you even think of him anymore? There was only one way to find out, and even though he promised he wouldn’t do it anymore, he just needed to know. 

Lando took his phone out of his pocket and started walking away from his group, already looking up your contact. 

“Hey mate, where are you going?” Max stopped him, catching a glimpse of what was on his screen. 

“I just need to step outside for a moment.”

Max looked at him in doubt. He knew how stubborn Lando was when it came to you, so no matter how hard he tried to convince him, there was no stopping him. “Alright, just don’t do anything stupid.”

Lando nodded, not really caring what he thought, and kept moving until he finally found a way out of the loud club. He clicked on your contact without even thinking, nervousness washing over him when it started to ring. He waited, and waited, and waited, until it went to voicemail. 

He was not surprised; it has been like that for a while anyway, but he couldn’t deny he was a little hurt. 

Once the beep ended, he cleared his throat, ready to utter all those questions that he had been dying to know, but he didn’t even know where to start. You hadn’t talked in so long, how was he supposed to ask such things?

“Y/N, it’s me, uh- sorry, I know it’s late and you’re probably sleeping right now, or you just saw my name and didn’t feel like picking up, which I get, I don’t expect you to… you know… anyway, uh-“ 

He has no idea where he was going with this, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t think of segue that made sense. What he truly wanted to ask doesn’t make sense either. 

“I know that you probably don’t want to see me again- I don’t know but, uh- I wanted to tell you that… you left your lipgloss in my car- and I was wondering if maybe you wanted it back, I could stop by one of these nights.” He cleared his throat again, mentally cursing himself at how stupid and desperate he sounded. “Anyway, please call me. Bye.” 

He hung up and went back to his car, looking for the lipgloss once again and putting it safely in his pocket before making his way back home. 

Even with alcohol in his system, it was hard for Lando to go to sleep. If he couldn’t ask you over the phone, how could he possibly stand before you and say all those things?

In reality, it was simple. He had nothing to lose if he had already lost you, and who knows, maybe you never stopped loving him either.

The last thing he wanted was to get his hopes up. He wanted to see you come back to him, but seeing you again would be enough.

⋆｡° ✮ ⋆｡° ✮ 

The next morning, you stared at your phone screen for a little too long, debating whether you should listen to his voicemail or just ignore it. 

You wanted to hear it so bad, but it took you so long to forget about him that you knew you probably shouldn’t. Not that you ever forgot about him completely, no, but just enough to go on with your life and pretend to be fine. 

Curiosity got the best of you, and before you knew it, you were listening to it. You could tell he had been drinking, the alcohol influence was notorious in his voice, and he sounded unsure of what he was telling you. However, you knew he was telling the truth. You did leave your lipgloss in his car, but there had to be another reason for his call, right?

The day went by and you didn’t get back to him, but his voice and words lingered in your mind all the time, and at this point, you had convinced yourself that he had an ulterior motive; why else would he call you at 3 AM, drunk, telling you about something you left in his car months ago?

You would be lying if you said you were never close to giving him a call while being drunk, but your friends never let you do something so stupid, telling you to remember why you left him in the first place, but sometimes you wonder just that: why?

It wasn’t because you didn’t love him anymore; you did, even now, but the heat of the moment made you utter those words without you realising it until it was too late. 

Your pride would never let you take it back anyway, so you just left his apartment after packing your stuff, with Lando following every turn you made as he begged for you to listen. Sometimes you wondered what would have happened if you never broke up with him, and instead, you listened to what he was telling you; they weren’t excuses, you know he meant every word, and maybe you should’ve given him one more chance.

You weren’t sure why, but your mind decided you should see him. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea, but god, he had been living in your mind more than usual, and you needed to know if he truly just wanted to give you your lipgloss, and if not, what were the reasons he had, so you texted him the next morning.

⋆｡° ✮ ⋆｡° ✮ 

His heart nearly stopped when he saw your name pop up on his screen. Five simple words that could change everything. Or at least he hoped so. 

‘You can stop by tonight’ is what the message read, and he immediately started to get nervous. 

After not getting a response from you the first day, he pretty much gave up and figured you were done with him and would never see you again. He thought you either didn’t buy his dumb excuse or didn’t care to even listen to his voicemail. But there he was, on his way to see you after four long months. 

Lando parked outside your apartment, taking a deep breath and rehearsing what he’s been meaning to ask you, his heart pounding with every step he took as he walked towards your door. 

He kept your lipgloss in his pocket, like he had been doing for the last couple of days, and knocked on your door, a little unsure of how tonight would turn out. 

The door slowly opened before him, and there you were, standing in front of him as beautiful as always. 

“Hi,” he said nervously as he tried to give you a smile. 

“Hi. You can come in.” You stepped to the side, almost melting at how his delicious scent invaded your nostrils as he walked past you and into your apartment.

“Thanks.” He looked around and he felt… weird; it was all so familiar yet so strange. That used to be your apartment before you moved in with him, and the memory of all those nights he would stay over came back in a rush. “Love what you’ve done with the place.”

“Thank you.”

“I see you finally got that lamp,” he said, your eyes following his and finding the green lamp that rested on your console, one that you had been wanting for a while when you still lived with him, but he was never a big fan of it, saying the colour didn’t really match with the rest of his apartment. 

“Yeah. I know you always thought the colour was hard to match, but I like it.”

“Right. It looks good,” he said, his eyes finding yours again. “You look good.”

You didn’t know what to say; you wanted to say it back, but something in you didn’t let you, so you just nodded and tried to utter a little ‘thank you’, but you weren’t sure he heard it. 

“Anyway, uh- I have your lipgloss. I know it’s your favourite one, so I thought I should give it back.” He took it out of his pocket and placed it in your hand. Somehow, it was hard to let it go; it was almost as if he was giving up the last piece of you. he had, apart from the memories.

“Thanks,” you said as you took it, your hand brushing his for a split second. You locked eyes with him, waiting for him to say something else, but he didn’t. Instead, his gaze dropped to his now empty hands. “Is that really why you are here?”

He thought about it for a moment. No, there were a million reasons he was standing before you right now. He shook his head and took another deep breath, getting ready to finally let it all out. 

“I miss you,” he looked at you again and saw your intention to say something, probably to stop him from going back to that topic, so he decided to interrupt you. “I know- I know we’ve been over this a million times, and a million times you have given me reasons why it can’t happen, why we can’t happen, but Y/N, for four months I’ve done nothing but miss you and regret how stupid I was for letting you go.” 

Unsure of how you would react, he took a step closer to you and tried to hold your hand, almost letting out a sigh of relief when you didn’t pull away. 

“I just need to know, do you miss me? Do you ever think about me, about us?”

You could feel the tears threatening to leave your eyes. You wanted nothing more than to say yes and kiss him, but after how things ended between the two of you, you didn’t know if that was a good idea. 

“You have no idea how much I wish I could go back and make it right, love you the way you deserve, and show it like I was supposed to. Maybe our time is over, and even if you think it’s better to say goodbye, please don’t say goodbye.”

He finally stopped and waited for you to say something. The seconds felt like hours, and it seemed impossible to read your face.

“I’m sorry, Lan.”

“Please,” he begged, standing even closer to you. “Please, baby. How can I live without you now that I know what your love feels like, what loving you feels like, and how terrible it is to live without you?” Locking eyes with you, he decided to ask you one more time “Do you miss me?”

His teary gaze was intense, almost suffocating, and you couldn’t keep it together any longer. You nodded as your tears started falling down your face, squeezing his big hand back. “But I don’t know if it’s gonna work.”

“Yes it will, I will make sure of that. Everything I did wrong the first time, it won’t happen again. I promise.”

“But what if it doesn’t? I can’t go through another breakup. Not with you.” Not that he did terrible things, his job was getting in the way of your relationship and you just wished he made an effort to make sure you never felt neglected, but right now, all you could think about was how bad it got for you when you just broke up with him. It was hard to do everything, and you didn’t know you could handle it again.

Lando, on the other hand, was sure it would all work out this time if you just gave him one more chance. He was not letting you go, not again.

“I know it’s too much to ask, but please, just give me one more chance. I won’t let it go to waste; I’ll use it so I can spend the rest of my life with you, just like we planned.” Maybe that’s all you needed to hear. You believed him, but you were somehow scared to give in. “I will never hurt you again, I promise.”

“Okay,” you said, barely above a whisper, so he wasn’t completely sure if he had heard you right.

“Okay?” He waited for you to either break his heart again or to make him the happiest man alive.

“Yes,” was all you said, leaving all your pride and insecurities behind as you hugged him as tight as you could, almost as if you were making up for all those times you needed his touch but didn’t have it.

Lando had more tears in his eyes than before, but they were happy tears now. “Come back, baby, you can bring that lamp.” You let out a genuine laugh for the first time in a while, enjoying the way he was embracing you.

He pulled away and looked at you, as lovingly as always. He couldn’t believe you were his again. Putting a strand of hair behind your ear, he was begging with his eyes to kiss you again.

It probably had to be you to make the move this time, you thought, since he was the one that had the courage to do what you didn’t. So you did, you closed the gap between you and finally tasted his lips again. It was long and full of love, the kiss transmitting what the words couldn’t.

“I love you,” he whispered as he pulled away, with his forehead resting against yours as he caressed all of you.

[nxuvillette]

“I PROMISE, IT WILL NEVER HAPPEN AGAIN.”

GENSHIN MEN COMFORTING YOU AFTER A FIGHT

synopsis: you and your boyfriend hardly ever fight, so what happens when you finally have one?

❥- including : tartaglia (childe), cyno, kaeya, wriothesley

❥- note : hi guys !! sorry if this post is kind of shit, i kind of rushed it. i hope you guys enjoy regardless <3 reblogs are appreciated !!

content warnings : sfw, fem!reader, ageless + blank blogs dni, angst, arguing, hurt with comfort, use of pet names (baby), fluff, dumb fights, lots and lots of fluff at the end.

♡ TARTAGLIA (CHILDE)

you and childe hadn’t spoken for much of the day, and this was due to an argument that happened between you two just before you sat down for some breakfast.

it was stupid, genuinely. 

childe had completely misinterpreted something you had said that morning. you were talking about one of your friends and their relationship. for some reason, childe thought you were comparing your relationship to the one your friend had, and it made him question if he was doing enough to make you happy. one thing led to another, and the two of you bickered over the encounter. you tried to explain yourself, but your boyfriend, being the stubborn man he was, didn’t bother to listen and went off on his own accord.

you and childe hardly had any fights. they would usually resolve after an hour or two, but you hadn’t seen him all day. part of you began to grow worried from his sudden absence. did he go out and do something to hurt himself? was he with somebody else? no, there was no way childe would ever cheat on you. he didn’t even look in another woman’s direction when he saw you that day. 

it wasn’t until sunset when childe had finally returned home to you. he had a few scrapes on his arms which seemed like they came from him battling another enemy, but regardless, he seemed to be in one piece. you were very relieved to see that he was fine. it made you run into his arms the moment he came into the door, which took your boyfriend by surprise. he was under the impression that you were still pissed off at him for the shit that he had pulled early on in the day. he knew he was wrong and he should have apologized, but he didn’t know how to put it into words. sometimes he wished he wasn’t so air headed. 

his arm went around your waist, bringing your body closer to his. the smell of his skin made you calm down. “i thought something bad happened to you..” your eyes didn’t move from the floor. 

childe could sense the worry that was in your voice. he shouldn’t have done that to you. he would never want to make you feel scared or put you under the idea that he would leave you. he wasn’t going to ever leave like that again, ever. “i’m sorry, baby..” he whispered, running his fingers along your backside. “i’m such an idiot.. i shouldn’t have said that shit. i love you way too much to hurt you..” 

you lifted your head to meet his ocean blue eyes. he had this frown on his features. you could see how guilty he felt for putting you in such a position. no matter what, you would always be in love with childe. no small argument would make your feelings for him shift, ever. you knew he could be stubborn at times, and honestly, so could you. all that mattered to you in the end was that you two made up and forget the whole thing. “it’s okay.. i still love you, okay?” you smiled at him, which made his heart skip a beat.

childe couldn’t help but smile, too. he leaned towards you and planted a kiss on your lips. he didn’t ever want to see you frown again. he would do anything to see a smile on your pretty face. “let me make up for it.. how about we take a bath together, hm?” he questioned, raising his eyebrows. 

you nodded your head. “sure..” you grinned.

♡ CYNO

you didn’t expect cyno to get upset earlier. 

cyno was in a bit of a rush that afternoon. he had a lot of things to tend to as the mahamatra, so he typically had a busy schedule. at the time, you had no idea that he had to be somewhere at a certain hour, so when you saw your lover wandering around aaru village by himself, you decided to go and talk with him to ask how his day was.

he kept his responses to you a bit shorter than usual, but that’s how he usually was. cyno was more the type of man to listen more than he did talk, but the more you kept speaking, the more he grew somewhat irritated. he had to meet with candace and discuss something that had occurred on his way there. he had to return as quickly as possible, though, because there were several people who needed his help out there. 

cyno had accidentally snapped at you, which in turn made you fire back at him.

it was very out of the ordinary for him to ever get angry with you. cyno was very patient, and he was especially with you. he was never the kind of man to be rude to you or yell at you, ever, so this threw you off completely. before he could even apologize, you left and went back to the place you two shared together. 

he didn’t return home until later that night. he had been thinking about what he had done all day, and it made him feel guilty for being that way towards you. you were his girlfriend. he loved you more than anybody else, and he managed to hurt your feelings because he was unable to control his very own. cyno hoped you wouldn’t want to leave him. anxiety plagued him the entire day. he wondered if he would return back to you and find that you deserted the home you two stayed in. 

much to his relief, you were lying in bed. you were turned on your side that was facing the window which exposed the vast desert outside. he sat down beside you and watched as your eyes fluttered open at the sudden weight taking over the bed. 

“i’m sorry..” cyno whispered, looking down at you with amber eyes. 

you sat up, crossing your legs on the mattress. you didn’t think he would come back being so apologetic, but you couldn’t help but forgive him. it did hurt your feelings a lot, but he was dealing with so much. it didn’t excuse what he did, but you two never fight. he wasn’t argumentative everyday. “it’s okay.. i just felt like shit for bothering you. i should have considered your schedule..” you didn’t want to look at him, but he tilted your chin to look into your eyes. 

cyno leaned in and hugged you, which took you by surprise. “no need.. i was an asshole for not controlling myself. you didn’t deserve any of that..” he squeezed your body. “i love you.. i hope you can forgive me.”

your hand rested on his shoulder blade. his skin felt warm from the blazing heat of the sun that he was under constantly. “i love you too..” you spoke. “i can forgive you, no worries.”

♡ KAEYA

you and kaeya had been dating for quite a while. since you were his girlfriend, there were some things that you needed to get accustomed to in the relationship.

especially kaeya’s drinking habit.

you didn’t mind that he would go off to the bars some nights to have a few drinks with his friends. hell, you did it a few times yourself with your own friends, but it became an issue when he would come late to your dates due to him being hungover the next day. you knew he couldn’t help but sleep an extra hour or two through the morning, but it had happened a few times and it led up to an argument occurring between you. you claimed it was a bother to you and he wasn’t being considerate of your time and energy.

what made it worse was kaeya usually was the one to make these plans, so for him to just not show up, it felt unfair to you. if he knew he was going to drink a lot, why would he continue to make plans with you the next day? it didn’t make any sense to you whatsoever, and you were tired of him either not showing up or having to go to his house to wake him up.

when you stormed out of his house and the door slammed behind you, kaeya felt immediate regret plaguing his chest. he did everything for you in the relationship and you did the same for him. he felt like he was an idiot for letting his drinking habits get a hold of your relationship. he didn’t have a drinking problem by any means, but he knew when he had too much he wouldn’t want to do anything the next day. you were right. it was unfair of him to miss out on spending quality time with you. he didn’t want to make you feel unimportant or a second priority. kaeya loved you more than life itself. how could he hurt the one person he poured his heart and soul into?

he gave you a bit of time to blow off steam. he knew chasing after you could escalate things further, so he decided to leave you alone for the rest of the day. however, he wasn’t about to let you both go to bed angry with each other.

so, when he showed up at your doorstep with a bouquet of flowers, you were quite surprised. you didn’t think kaeya would even bother making an effort to talk things through with you, but he was standing there with an apologetic expression. “can we talk? i understand if not.. but i just don’t want you going to bed pissed at me.” he clutched the flower stems in his hand, hoping you would hear him out.

you nodded your head, inviting him into your home and watching him step inside. kaeya then turned to face you, handing the flowers in your direction. they were your favorite, lamp grass. you loved the way they glowed in the dark. “kaeya.. i’m-“ you started, taking the flowers from him.

“i’m sorry.. i didn’t mean to keep missing out on our dates. i was a shitty boyfriend for keeping up with my behavior, and i shouldn’t have been doing that in the first place.” he cut you off, shocking you. “i love you, (y/n), and i don’t want you to think otherwise.”

you stood there for a few moments in silence. you weren’t sure what to say to him, but you could sense his genuine energy in his voice. “i forgive you..” you said, lifting your eyes to meet his. “i don’t want it to happen again, okay? i love to spend time with you and i don’t wanna feel like you dislike my presence.”

he took your free hand into his, placing a soft kiss on the top of it. he had been a gentleman since day one and it seemed like that attribute of him never left his personality. “i love seeing you more than anybody else, please don’t think you’re a burden. i’d do anything to spend any waking moment with you by my side, okay? i won’t ever do it again.” kaeya replied, stepping closer to where you were standing.

you smiled, pressing a kiss on the side of his cheek. he loved how soft your lips felt against his skin. “i appreciate that..” you sounded much happier, which relieved him.

kaeya wasn’t going to do that ever again. he could never lose you, ever.

♡ WRIOTHESLEY

wriothesley was quite a busy man. it was something you knew you were signing up for when you started to date him a few months back. his job was tiring, exhausting even. he had a huge responsibility on his shoulders to carry, and sometimes it stressed him out more than he would like to admit.

it seemed like that stress began to reach its breaking point, because wriothesley hadn’t been acting right over the last few days. you assumed he was just dealing with his job, so you decided to try and see if venting would have any relief to your boyfriend. you two had done it many times before when things got a little hectic in your personal lives. plus, you both trusted each other greatly. you didn’t think he would have an issue with it.

well, you were wrong, unfortunately.

when you made the attempt to speak to your boyfriend about what was wrong, he had a serious attitude, and things escalated to you two both having a fight. you didn’t like the way he was speaking to you and he was becoming upset with you for no reason at all. all you had asked him was if he wanted to talk, but it seemed like that question alone must have ruffled his feathers. 

you two never fought, so this had completely blindsided you.

wriothesley then left for work, leaving you by yourself in the apartment you lived in. it wasn’t your intention to make him angry with you. all you wanted to know was what was troubling him to make him feel so overwhelmed. that fact crept up on wriothesley immediately after he entered his office at the fortress. he shouldn’t have snapped at you that way. it wasn’t right, nor was it excusable. he was the one person who was supposed to make you happy, not hurt.

a few hours later, he returned home a lot earlier than usual. things were slow at the fortress, so he decided to leave early and try to patch things up with you. he found you sitting on the couch with a book in your hands, seemingly trying to read away what had happened earlier between you. you were a bit taken back to see him standing in front of you, but you didn’t know what to say to him. 

“i’m sorry.. i was out of line earlier.” he broke the silence between you. it was like popping a balloon. “i get it if you’re pissed at me.. i can give you space if you’d like.”

you sat there for a few moments. you closed the book in your hands and placed it on the wooden table in front of you. wriothesley was right. he shouldn’t have been that much of an ass to you. you didn’t deserve such treatment, but you loved him. he was never like that towards you and your friends had told you before that random fights are normal. “it’s okay.. i forgive you.” you replied, standing up to go in front of him. “please.. just promise me you won’t do that again.” 

his hands went to cup your cheeks. his thumbs brushed against your smooth skin. you could see how guilty he felt for doing what he had done. “i promise.. i swear, (y/n), i’ll never do that again. i could never hurt you like that, ever again.” he looked down at you with sincerity on his features. 

you leaned in to hug him. wriothesley inhaled the fresh scent of your shampoo and felt immediately calmed from your touch. he loved you, dearly. he could never do that to you again and he vowed to never pull a stunt like that with you ever again.

© NXUVILLETTE ┆ all rights reserved, do not repost, translate, or claim as your own.

[lucyandthepen]

sweet cream, cold brew | lmh ( m )

something about mark lee keeps you up at night, and you’re pretty sure that it isn’t the lingering smell of espresso on his shirt.

alternatively: mark is shy until he isn’t.

read the second part here!

pairing: nerd!barista!mark x reader verse: college au rating: r ( minors, do not interact! ) warnings&tags: unprotected sex, oral (f!receiving), fingering, slightly possessive/jealous dialogue, mark has a thing for tummy bulges because why not, implicitly that also means he has a big dick, a slight???? exhibitionism kink (not actually something that happens, only talked about), johnny exists in this simply to trigger something vaguely feral in mark, reader is a little bit assertive and schemes to get mark's attention, jaehyun is a nosy lil eavesdropper, i think that should be it?? word count: 26.4k

a/n: hello so this was a mess and honestly not a fic i would say showcases my best plot-wise but… what can I say apart from booty wurk mark has me in a chokehold and I needed to release some thoughts and feelings !!! please do not expect too much from the development of the story; i fear it’s quite long and choppy because my ideas were all over the place and i was wringing my hands and brain constantly and i was eager to get to the spicy parts !! this is also not beta’d/proofread, it’s currently almost 1am, and i’ve been writing this on and off for a full week with very few breaks so it honestly felt like a fever dream for me LMAO please forgive any oversights and mistakes; i’ll try to go back on them another day and fix them little by little! finally and …most importantly belated happy birthday, my beloved morkly!

p.s. this will probably be flagged as ‘mature’ by tumblr, which means there’s a high likelihood it won’t appear in tags or searches. please consider reblogging to boost the fic, if you feel so inclined!

You’ve heard tell of how caffeine has inherently addictive properties. 

The more of it you have in your lifetime, the more likely you are to experience symptoms of withdrawal whenever you try to have orange juice for breakfast in its stead. It sounds bad, actually, considering most addictive substances are, but you suppose that its benefits somehow outweigh its milder drawbacks. You’re not much of a coffee connoisseur the way some people — see: your best friends, Yeji and Jisu — are, trying one cafe after the other in pursuit of being able to nominate the winning beans of 2023 (an annual heated debate they participate in for no better reason than their own slow and useless entertainment during their six-hour long breaks), but you do know you’ve only ever experienced good things from having a cup every so often: better energy, a more focused approach to mental activities, and the ability to drive through fifty percent of a road trip without needing pop punk music blasting out of your speakers to keep yourself alert. 

The three of you are generally particular about the coffee you drink, only in different ways. While your friends have a tendency to demand only the best from any establishment — lest the staff hear fiery commentary about the flatness of the brew or the evident coarseness of the grind — you, on the other hand, are a singular individual of rather simple tastes. All you need to survive long days is a glass of vanilla sweet cream cold brew. No modifications to the sugar level or fancy new milk types are necessary; you’ll drink it as it’s served in a grande cup (or a venti, when things prove particularly grueling). 

Of course, you’re strict about other things in the experience of consumption —  like where it’s served and, more importantly, who serves it to you. 

While Yeji and Jisu have rated the Liberal Arts building’s on-campus Starbucks branch as a five with the strict label of POEO — ‘passable on emergencies only’ — branding the menu as “nothing revolutionary” and criticizing most baristas for subpar brewery, you happen to be extremely drawn to the place. Initially, you may have argued that this has to do with the fact that it’s walking distance from most of your classes, confined to the same general compound on campus, so you can always grab a quick recharger whenever needed, no matter how short the timeframe to do so is. Sometime later on, you may have found yourself asserting that the layout of the cafe, albeit small, is very convenient, considering that every table is situated next to an electrical outlet, so you’re never out of battery (important to other students for their laptops and powerpoint presentations, important to you because you have an unhealthy obsession with passing time on TikTok, scrolling past video after video of ASMR girls clicking their twenty-inch long acrylics with their crazy candyland designs), and this makes you feel at ease. 

A month ago, you finally came clean to yourself and, soon after, to your friends, and they came to understand, albeit begrudgingly and with no small amount of amusement, what made this Starbucks unbeatable in your eyes; it had one thing no other coffee shop could lay claim to.

What you know of Mark Lee is accrued from two major sources: long, surreptitious glances in the Modern World History class you share, and irritatingly brief interactions when you place your order from the other side of the counter behind which he stands, long fingers always poised to punch in your order at the speed of light. Sometimes, those encounters get cut even shorter when irate upperclassmen start prattling their orders out before you can even say anything past your own, except even this has its own consolation prize — an apologetic smile at you that seems only for you, although you’re not sure how much of this assumption is true. You’ll just believe it as you feel it. 

And what you’ve learned about Mark Lee has funneled down into two key points for you: first, he is single, a fact you were clued into when a group of his friends came to the coffee shop and sat around the table next to you. You hadn’t been eavesdropping; they’d just been pretty loud, but you’d also perked your ears the moment the one everyone seemed to call “Hyuck” — you aren’t sure if it’s his full name or a nickname, and you don’t particularly care — had leaned in for a conspiratorial whisper about having a vague master plan to set Mark up with an old high school friend’s younger sister that he was just waiting to spring on said Mark, busy slaving away on their six impossible orders near the espresso machine. 

You don’t really know what became of that plan, nor if anyone had telepathically been on your side to outright call it crazy (someone should have had a better reason than you, anyway) since the next moment, Hyuck’s voice becomes significantly louder when it orders the one named Jisung to collect the completed coffee and snacks waiting for them on the counter. However, you feel safe in the assumption that even if it had happened, no repercussions had followed, seeing as Mark still presently comes and goes from his shifts alone and in no clear hurry to meet any cute girls that are sisters of high school friends of his friends. Or, maybe you’re just ignoring what could be truth, but that’s whatever. 

Second, you’ve learned that Mark Lee should not actually be your type — at least, in theory. 

Saying you’re out of his league would be a bit juvenile, but if you had only so many words to describe the situation, you’d say so under duress. It isn’t so much that he’s beneath you in any way, but your interests and general social circles run different routes. Yours tend to be more classically patterned after constantly changing trends, and the people you interact with all seem to have similar goals; you like to call it ‘vibe networking,’ which, from experience, involves connecting with both groups and individuals that are equally aware that they will benefit in some way from any resulting acquaintanceship — whether it be by climbing the social ladder a couple of rungs or being able to call in a quick, off-the-charts favor for something very important and/or very exclusive down the road. You and your friends spend a significant amount of time in a year watching your style and image, something quite a lot of kids in the first couple of years of college tend to do, which means that while you don’t particularly like to spend your time following your grade trajectory, you do have quite a lot of pseudo-friends that all seem to offer something entertaining or helpful to you. 

Mark, on the contrast, prefers to keep his circle very close to his heart, it seems — that which acts as a receptacle for all his interests. You can tell that he likes to be up to date less with trending movies and more with comic books, a separate beast of a world that’s rather unknown to you. More than once, you’ve overheard him chat with his friends about Spider-man Issue Number Whatever-It-Is or engage in somewhat lively (sometimes rowdy, thanks to the Hyuck fellow) discussions about some webtoon you’ve come to understand is called Solo Leveling, which seems to have to do with monsters and hunters — two things you know next to nothing about. You’ve also never seen Mark holding anything remotely close to a magazine; his hands are always filled with either a freshly opened comic or a beat-up textbook. Maybe once or twice, you’ve seen him on his phone, but when you peeked over (surreptitiously, of course) on those occasions, you were met only with brightly colored panels and a singular word: BAM. 

In conclusion — you and Mark Lee live very different lives, likely never truly meant to intersect. 

And yet, you want him — not even in a way that speaks only to your curiosity, but in a manner that feels slightly delusional. More than once, you’ve found yourself having to shut your jaw close after realizing you’ve been watching him steam milk with your mouth slightly agape. Maybe it’s his side profile, which gives you a great view of the way his jaw tenses every time he puts whipped cream on someone’s frappuccino. Maybe it’s his eyes, which always seem to twinkle like he’s harboring some special secret every time someone in line asks for his recommendation on how to spice their order up. Maybe it’s his hands, steady and agile, with just the right showing of veins through the skin to tell you they’ve probably got significant strength to them too. Or maybe it’s just his mind — that thing he always manages to show off in class, working faster than lightning even when the rest of you are in your natural eight-in-the-morning stupor.

Whatever the reason for your interest, Mark Lee makes sure the Liberal Arts building’s Starbucks has you as a regular customer. 

You’re fully aware that this is the twenty-first century, which is why you could, as Yeji and Jisu have so kindly made known, simply ask him out. Under normal circumstances, you would have.

Unfortunately, in this particular area of your life, separate from all others, you’re something of a traditionalist. 

Actually, you just want to know what Mark asking you out would look like. Curiosity has fully gotten the better of you — how can it not, with how he breaks eye contact with you the moment it happens by accident in class, or with how pleasantly and shyly he smiles when you say ‘hey’ to him once you’re about to order? You’d like to see, first-hand, as a recipient of the experience itself, what he would look like taking control of a particular situation like that — something someone like him, so mild-mannered and laid-back, never really seemed to do upfront. 

You’d like to think you’ve given him clear signs. There’s a reason you always come in during his shift times, and it’s the same reason for why you have the same damn drink from the menu over and over again despite not even caring too much about coffee in the first place (something he admittedly doesn’t know and probably wouldn’t puzzle out, given how often you’re in that Starbucks, anyway). It’s that you want him to remember you.

Selfishly, it’s that you want him to think just a little bit more about you every single day. 

But if he does, Mark has never made it very clearly known; apart from taking your order in his genial customer service demeanor or letting a look of brief recognition pass his face over when you cross paths in the hallways, he’s never really shown heightened inquisitiveness about you. For all your differences, only you seem to actually care.

Frankly, that frustrates you, because if you have to think about him unhealthily, it would only be right for him to do that for your sake too. Still, you’ll shrug that hit on your pride off for as long as you can get his attention one way or another.

All you really need is for your plan to pan out as well as you think — and hope — it will. 

The thing is, you’re not even that bad at math. You’ve never really excelled at it, of course, but you wouldn’t go so far as to say you’re in dire need of help from anyone — the kind of help that feels like babysitting, at least.

However, Mark Lee doesn’t know that, and you’re not compelled to make that fact known to him when you notice that he’s leaning on the counter with his elbows, shoulders rolled forward and head bent down. He’s twirling his ballpoint in hand, wrist hovering over a worksheet, and you’re briefly distracted by the rapidly moving shadow underneath it.

His head snaps up when you gently knock on the counter, and the rest of his body follows suit, straightening as he shoves the paper away, one edge crumpling in on itself as it meets resistance in the form of the pastry display glass.

“Hey — hi, _________.” He knows your name, says it easily, and while you’d like to believe it’s because of his unprecedented interest in you, you know that it’s just because you’re always here and always having him write your name on the side of your cup. “Can I get you the usual?”

There’s no particular reason you order what you do; maybe it’s just rooted in the fact that when you first asked Mark for a recommendation, he said that the Vanilla Sweet Cream Cold Brew was pretty good, and you were inclined to believe him (while pointedly ignoring the fact that it was, at the time, a new item all of the baristas were required to push to indecisive, slightly moony-eyed customers such as yourself). Whatever the case, you found the drink generally palatable, and you were also able to score the first of many smiles that fed into your two-semester-long infatuation with him, so it was basically a win-win scenario for all. He even got to do his job by getting some rube (see: you) into trying a new product.

“Hey, Mark.” You’ve long since given up pretending that you don’t know his name and have to check the tag on his cute green apron (why is it cute? You don’t know. It’s the same, standard, Starbucks green, but Mark makes it look homely and natural, somehow). You’ve been here way too many times over the last academic year for a nonchalant, were you talking to me? approach to work, anyway. “That, plus a lemon loaf, if you don’t mind. What’ve you got there?”

His eyes follow the trail of yours over to his wrinkled worksheet. “Oh — no, sorry. It’s nothing.”

“Is it secret?” Your bottom lip juts out, and you see his Adam’s apple bob dangerously, a small telltale sign of minute nervousness before he lets out a short laugh. “Didn’t know we kept stuff from each other.”

You don’t know what makes you say that so naturally. The both of you don’t do much beyond exchanging pleasantries.

“We — uh, well, it’s just a worksheet. For Park Hyosung’s class. College algebra?”

“I’m in Kim Junghwa’s. Can I have a look? I want to know if you’re suffering just as much as I am.”

He pauses, considering your request for a moment, likely wondering if there’s any harm in it before he smooths the paper out and turns it towards you. His handwriting’s a little messy, but his solutions are extremely neat. You see, like, one erasure, max. You also don’t see anything that interests you — except the name written at the top. Still, you can see at a general glance that more than half of his answers are correct; the logic of his organization is way too elegant and his writing’s too sure to be anything else. You whistle low, and his eyebrows shoot up.

“Something wrong?”

“Pretty much the opposite. How is it that you’re doing this without breaking a sweat?”

“Oh, well — it’s not…” He doesn’t even know how to brag. Yet another item in the perpetually growing list of things you find cute about Mark Lee. “I mean, anyone… can?”

“I must not be anyone then.” You meet his quizzical look with a wry smile. “Either you guys are leaps and bounds ahead, or I’m really not going to make it through this semester.”

Another silence passes, just for a fraction of a second — short enough to be passable to others, but long enough for you to wonder if your humor code isn’t up to par with the rest of the world’s — before Mark’s chuckling lowly. His large palm comes down, covering a majority of his answers in the process.

“You’re kidding. I’m sure you’re doing just fine.”

“Mark, look at this face.” You gesture to your evidently dumbfounded, blank expression. “Does this look like the face of someone that’s doing just fine?”

You’re pleased to hear another laugh from him; you don’t know if he really finds you funny or if he’s just the type to be easily amused. You don’t want to know, anyway; assuming is better than actually finding out.

“That bad, huh?” He slides the worksheet away again, like he’s afraid his correct answers are going to offend you into leaving the cafe. Instead, his hands start working on your order, grabbing a cup and scrawling the shorthand of the drink on one of the little boxes. “Ever think about getting a tutor, maybe? If you really feel like you’re drowning, that is.”

“A tutor? I guess that depends. Are you free on weeknights?”

The marker makes a soft screeching sound as he drags it down with too much force, ruining the penmanship of your name. Mark takes a moment to stare at the mistake on the plastic before he looks at you, pointing the rim of the cup towards himself. “Sorry — am I free—?”

“You said I should get a tutor, right?”

“I thought — no, sorry, I was thinking more like one of those department-assigned tutors you can ask the faculty for, or something.”

“Oh. Are you not one of them?” You sigh, albeit a little over dramatically. Thankfully, he doesn’t really cotton onto your acting, too caught up in befuddlement at the turn of the conversation. “That’s a bummer. I was kinda hoping that if I was going to ask for help, I’d get an actual genius. You know — someone like you?”

You can tell by Mark’s expression that he’s torn between denying your compliment again and responding to your actual question; he looks both relieved and miffed when the student behind you clears her throat.

“Sorry, but— you know that there’s a line, right?”

You both apologize, Mark’s much more sincere than your own, and you step aside. His gaze follows you for a moment before it snaps back to the next customer, his voice abandoning that bemused uncertainty it had taken up with you. You don’t really mind; as far as you’re concerned, any dent in his barista persona when he talks to you is a step in the right direction.

You hang around the pick-up area, receipt in hand, watching Mark clear the line before moving to the actual stations near the kitchen area. There’s a concentration on his face that you find all the more attractive; he has a habit of chewing on his bottom lip when he’s trying to focus on getting the drizzle just right inside the cup’s cylinder.

He tends to try his best at everything, you figure. Not an unattractive quality — not by a long shot.

Mark finishes your drink first; the milk’s still only seeping, cloudy, into the coffee when he brings it over. He doesn’t even have to call your queue number, opting to meet your eye — albeit slightly nervously — instead. You reach out to hold the cup, a calculated move that allows you to brush hands against his without him being able to pull back on instinct. He doesn’t, nor does he really seem to want to, but his jaw tightens as a flush creeps along the curve of his ears.

“You really won’t help me?”

Your question’s abrupt, almost a little demanding, even if your voice is sweet. You’re not above asking this much, anyway, even if you technically want him to make the first move. The redness sinks down to his earlobes.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t really say anything,” you tease. The cup’s on the counter now, so he can easily relinquish it to you at this point, but he still hesitates, only one hand slipping out from under the heat of your palm. He uses it to rub the back of his neck, chuckling softly, and you take this as a green light. “What time does your shift end?”

“Five-thirty. You sure you wouldn’t want someone better?”

You pull your cup slowly to yourself, and his hand, still lightly trapped by your own, follows for a few inches before he’s withdrawing, the counter between the two of you forcing the distance. A smile follows the shaking of your head, and you take a small sip of the drink before you respond simply.

“There’s no one better than you.”

Mark is a prompt kind of person; you learn this when, at five-thirty, he comes over to your table, tugging his apron off over his head. Of course, you might attribute that to his overall personality, but the fact that you spend the remaining two hours of his shift casting him glances from the left side of the coffee shop might have also been a contributing factor. The looks you give him aren’t even furtive; they’re deliberately long, so you never miss whenever he looks over to you from time to time.

He doesn’t hold eye contact for very long (he does it well enough when he’s talking to customers, but it’s not like you’re ordering another cold brew from across the room at that point), but you can read snippets of his thoughts through the fleeting gaze exchanges. He’s curious as to why you’re asking for help, now, of all times, when the semester’s more than halfway over. He’s surprised that you asked him, of all people, because he just can’t conceive of a world that isn’t within a television show where this kind of abrupt, overt request makes sense. He’s flattered that you even asked him out of the blue. He’s equal parts anxious and eager to know what’s meant to happen after his shift, once he starts fulfilling your request.

Most of all, he’s unsure if he’s reading you right — if what it feels like you’re doing is something he’s attaching too deep a meaning to. If he’s right in reading your signs.

You don’t really mind it; you like knowing that Mark somehow wears his heart on his sleeve, even if he tries to remain neutral for the sake of appearances. You also bask quietly in the fact that he’s looking at you twice as much as he ever has in the time you’ve loosely known each other. Still, his bubbling confusion and inquisitiveness seem to be interfering with the rest of his work, especially when you notice that he’s been wiping down the surface of a table two down from where you are for more than seven minutes.

In the hopes of easing whatever tension might be in his heart, you offer him a small smile, but that’s only met with his eyes immediately glazing over and inching a couple of centimeters above your forehead, where the story of Starbucks’ origins is drawn out in a faux-manga style. He pretends to find it interesting, as if he hasn’t seen it a million times from coming into this establishment day after day — you know it well enough, and you don’t even have to, considering you don’t work here — and you can’t do anything but hold back your laughter.

A small part of you says you should just give him the affirmative answer to his biggest question, but every other cell in your body says that it’s no fun if he doesn’t ascertain it for himself.

He has his school bag and textbook in tow when he approaches, taking the seat across from you. There’s a steely resolution on his face, like he’s been emotionally preparing himself for such a daunting task, but it eases up the moment you laugh lightly.

“You don’t have to act like I’m going to eat you.”

“I’m still not sure why you’re suddenly asking me to help you,” he admits. He’s also very honest, you note. Again, not an unattractive trait. “I’m not complaining. I just didn’t think you even had an opinion of me.”

“Why’s that?” You’re genuinely surprised. Mark drums his fingers on the front of his textbook, thoughtful — less for the sake of thinking what to say and more for the sake of considering how to say it. It’s clear he wants to avoid calling attention to the fact that before now, you two have had no reason to run the same track, let alone sit together and talk at a coffee shop, as if you’ve always been the best of friends.

“Genuinely just thought I was the guy who gave you your afternoon coffee every day,” he finally settles. Your eyes widen, and another laugh escapes you — a little louder this time, enough to call the attention of a couple of jumpy freshmen nearby.

“Well — let me put it this way.” You lean over slightly, cupping your chin in your palm. “Was I just the girl you made coffee for every day until now?”

There are clear cogs turning in his head; his eyes unfocus slightly as he thinks of the possibilities. His silence suddenly makes you somewhat nervous; your tone had been confident, and you’d only said that to prove a point, to push him in the right direction, but you realize that you hadn’t previously factored in the possibility that he might simply say yes — or, worse, say no just to avoid hurting your feelings.

You watch his lower lip curl in; he uses his tongue to smooth out the skin that’s slightly dried from work fatigue. You would much rather it peeked out, so you could imagine it against your own. His response is mumbled in a lower register, but you catch some key syllables — didn’t… not … stranger — pretty … you?

“Sorry?” You ask patiently, but the fact that he turns red and laughs again — something you realize is not only a trademark of his personality but also downright delicious of him to be doing — is all the answer you need to let the apprehension seep from your shoulders. “I didn’t catch that.”

Mark clears his throat. “No, I… didn’t think of you that way. I mean… you’re my classmate.”

“Sure,” your tone’s breezy, but the somewhat sloppy confirmation of interest in you makes your heart soar. He just needs more of a push. “And we’re basically friends, right?”

“Yeah.” His voice is unsure at first, like he can’t seem to wrap his head around the concept. You can tell that Mark’s notion of friendship is likely based on shared interests, of which you admittedly have none. Technically, if you were his friend, you’d spend less time just telling him the exact same order every single day and more time sitting around a table trying to learn how to play Magic: The Gathering with him. Still, he takes one long look at your grin and suddenly gains confidence in his next words, as if it somehow convinces him that the briefness of your old conversations had been a mutually agreed-upon thing and not the product of social distance between the two of you. “Yeah. We’re friends.”

“Right. Friends help friends, don’t they? I’d definitely feel more comfortable having a friend teach me than some stuffy upperclassman I don’t know.”

You see Mark’s lips move slightly, in such small movements you could have imagined it as breathing if you didn’t care too much (which you do). He mouths, to himself — friends help friends. For some reason, that boosts his conviction even further, and he nods.

“Makes sense. Well — for as long as you don’t mind me, then.”

“Mind? I asked you, so I should be saying that.”

“I’d never mind — I mean, of course I don’t mind.” He’s quick to correct himself, and you have to stop your own hand from reaching out to try to satisfy your curiosity, the desire to know just how hot his cheeks get when he blushes. “More than happy to help, actually.”

“And I’m more than happy to be here.” You beam at him, and he mirrors your smile. You don’t know what it is about the look on his face — the brightness in his eyes, or the slight lift of his eyebrows, maybe — but it gives you the impression that he might be feeling at least a fraction of what you are: the feeling of your heart lifting off a few inches from your rib cage. “Since we’re on the same page, I hope — should we get to it?”

From the moment that Mark opens his textbook to a chapter on inverted parabolas, he assumes a personality you feel you haven’t seen from him before. You realize that you really do know him in only two limited capacities — his classroom persona that seems to really only view himself and the material, focused on the board and the professor’s words (even up until the useless anecdotes) to absorb as much information as possible, and his more genial customer service form, always happy to assist in the trained, easygoing way you’ve come to meet so often.

Right now, he’s a blend of both, yet somehow neither all at once. He’s quick to catch the parabolas you draw, either wrongly or downright poorly. Despite initial hesitation, he always manages to say something; there’s already a pattern to how he does it, from his slightly awkward, “Ah, sorry, actually —” to the way his finger traces over what you’ve written, outlining the right curve. You find his interruptions so endearing that you start drawing them wrong purposefully — not enough for him to realize your schemes in their entirety, but enough to cast you a few amused glances, like he can’t imagine why you’d map out such an absurd graph. You get the feeling he wants to actually laugh at how ridiculous you’re acting, but he can’t tell if you’re seriously struggling or not, so he settles for a smile he thinks he does well in keeping to himself, but that you catch anyway. He’s patient, even when you have to rip out pages from the back of his notebook because of your ‘mistakes,’ like he’s still catering to your request for an extra pump of syrup for your coffee on sleepy days.

But there’s also that side to him that comes out when he suddenly remembers the distance between you that, before today, had felt unlikely to be closed. It peaks at odd moments, like when you’re borrowing his pen because yours is currently holding your slowly unraveling bun up, and your fingers brush against his. It surfaces abruptly when you lean in to watch what he’s drawing until he realizes how close you are, arm lightly grazing his, and his pen freezes, ink blotting on the paper for a second. It’s in those times that you can almost hear his brain churning out questions — like he’s wondering if you’re just oblivious or if you’re doing something on purpose that he can’t quite believe. Like he wants to ask you what’s on your mind, but he just doesn’t know how.

If he asked, you would reply without missing a beat. The answer, after all, is simple (him). But Mark never raises the question, only does something without fully acknowledging what he’s doing — the adjustment of his glasses on the bridge of his nose, the ruffling of his hair as though to shake off his thoughts, the clearing of his throat to normalize his tone before he explains something you’ve just asked about. There’s always that light tinge of pink to his face that makes him look even more endearing, and it fades and returns every so often for the better part of two hours.

By the time he rubs oncoming fatigue out of his eyes, the sun has already set; there are far fewer people around you at this time, and for as much as you like spending time with him and breathing in the scent of his shirt — always a tinge of Downy, barely cutting through the much more overpowering scent of espresso and sugar — your back has begun hurting from your front-heavy posture and determination to have your face as close as rationally possible to Mark’s. Still, you don’t miss out on the fact that the act of him cracking his neck to relieve tension makes your lips curl inward, trying to stifle an inappropriate noise in reaction to the view.

“I feel like I talked your ear off,” he pipes up, sounding a bit sheepish. “Sometimes it’s hard to know when to stop once you’ve gotten started. I’m just hoping I didn’t bore you to death.”

“Meanwhile, I’m here hoping you aren’t sick of my questions already.” You smile, closing your notebook and hanging the clip of your pen on the spiral. Your arms stretch up first, followed by your back, a light twist to relax your posture into normalcy again. Mark’s breathing falls quiet, like he’d been preparing to say something in response but had let it die in the back of his throat instead. You let your eyes drop, expecting to see him looking at you, as he mostly has been — on and off — since his shift ended, but his eyes are far lower than yours, the telltale redness now growing in evident splotches across his cheeks.

The hem of your shirt has ridden up; while there’s nothing outrageous about it, there’s a short expanse of skin that it reveals, for a brief moment. His eyes are slightly glossy, brow furrowed like he’s trying to find a solution to something he can’t fully understand. You’re not even sure about what he could really be looking at, or if there’s something he’s just thinking of that caught his attention while his eyes focused on a rather unfortunate spot. To test your theory, you suck in your stomach slightly alongside an inhale.

It should be objectively funny to watch Mark blink unevenly, left eye going first before his right tries to catch up, but you manage to stifle your laughter — poorly, though, because you end up coughing a little and breaking him out of his strange trance. You avert your eyes quickly enough for him to look vaguely relieved that you hadn’t caught him looking. So he thinks, at least.

“Anyway.” You feel bad that you have to tear his mind away from whatever faraway land it must be trying to burrow a hole in; the dazed expression on his face dims into hastily hidden embarrassment. You don’t want him to feel awkward, so you just busy yourself with packing up, making an unnecessary show of stuffing your notebook back into your bag as if it isn’t half-empty at this point. “I really appreciate you taking the time to help me.”

“Any time.” His first attempt is a little raspy, maybe from overuse of his voice today, so he clears his throat and tries again. A slow smile builds on your lips. “Any time, really. I’m glad that this is actually helping you; you pick things up surprisingly fast.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah. Give it a couple of weeks, and you’ll probably be ready to tackle it on your own again, I’m sure.”

He smiles reassuringly, but all you can think about is how that’s not good. You should pretend to be a little dumber next time, or this will end much too prematurely.

The next five minutes pass in silence; you don’t expect to be knee-deep in conversation anyway since, as much as you try to convince him, you aren’t actually anywhere close to being those kinds of friends yet. There’s an unspoken rule to the give and take of things, where he pauses for you to get an item off the table and push it into your bag before he does the same with his own belongings. Neither of you really intersect paths, save for the moment you both grab your phones and stand at the same time.

His jaw falls open like he’s preparing to say something, then shuts as if he’s better decided against it. You decide to take the initiative to say what you’re assuming he wants to. “Same time, same table?”

“Oh — uh, yeah, for sure.”

You want to ask him to walk out with you. You want to lace your fingers with his, tug him out, and kiss him under the green and white glow of the sign outside. You want to know if kissing his collarbone means you’ll taste a hint of coffee. You think about doing it all somehow, especially since he’s fighting back a slight smile at the promise of tomorrow.

But it just isn’t the right time.

Instead, you place a hand on his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. The slow movement of his throat — yet another hard swallow — isn’t lost on you, and his eyes land on where the two of you connect. With a grateful smile, you bid him a soft goodbye, taking your leave first.

You don’t look back — at least, not until you’re fully in the cover of the darkness outside. On the gravel path, just out of reach of the lamplight, you chance one last glance back into the store. Mark is still rooted to the same spot, his backpack slung over one shoulder, staring at the table like he’s dissociating from what just happened — like he can’t believe the last couple of hours.

Your smile grows when you see his own, and his hand comes around to the back of his neck, rubbing it lightly like it gives him small comfort to let him know that it was real.

Baby steps, you remind yourself. You’ve already got one foot in the door, after all.

As the days trickle by, you fall into a more comfortable standing with Mark; there’s a routine to your meetings that seems to eliminate the initial and abrupt awkwardness of that first day. You come into that Starbucks at four, greet Mark, who doesn’t ever have to ask for your order, and spend the next hour and a half slowly sipping on it until the ice has thinned and watered down your drink substantially. In that time, you allow yourself to do whatever you want (as if you’ve ever done otherwise anyway), and what you usually want the most is a good view of him. You therefore use most of the minutes you have on hand to regard him from different angles — from the side when he’s frothing milk, upfront when he turns to leave cups on the pick-up counter, from the back when he’s clearing tables — interspersed with moments of checking your TikTok feed, clearing group chat messages, and sometimes re-curling your bangs with a portable iron from the school’s co-op center, a relatively new purchase you tote around these days. You do essentially anything in between to avoid acting too suspicious while he works.

Sometimes, you catch Mark’s eye too; the more your meetings increase in number over the course of a few weeks, the more deliberately he looks over at you, and the longer it lasts. You feel like you’ve made significant progress when your gazes lock and he smiles slightly, albeit a bit unsurely, instead of turning away like he used to. The other day, he’d even passed by while apologizing for how long you always waited for him — not that you ever minded, something you made a point to clarify with him before he walked away, carrying a couple of chairs from the back room with him to replace rickety ones.

That he’s able to transport them easily, as if he’s lugging a bag of apples from the grocery, does not escape your watchful eye.

What you like the most is that you start to learn more about him in a way that isn’t fueled only by your expectations and, therefore, limited by your imagination. You find out that he’s from a close-knit family with a rather cushy background, and this barista job is just for interest funding and experience, in that exact order. Most of his earnings are funneled into the things he collects, which apparently isn’t limited to comic books and special edition blu-rays with director’s cut but also a rather stupendous amount of PopMart blind box figurines. Apparently, he particularly likes the Skullpanda series even if he hasn’t completed it yet; your last session together had adjourned thirty minutes earlier than usual so that he could catch a pre-rush hour inner circle train to Hongdae, where the flagship store was set to open on that day. He’d promised to show you his pulls (as long as they weren’t embarrassing dupes). You learn that he likes to listen to loud music when he studies to stimulate his mind, and he has a playlist that’s just a jumble of songs from Punk Goes Pop volumes that makes him feel empowered for some absurd reason, like he’s going against the grain. You don’t really get it, but you do like that spiced-up rendition of Ariana Grande’s Problem that he let you listen to once.

Of course, there are things that you find out not through conversation but through continued, closer observation. You notice that he likes to put on chapstick even if his lips aren’t particularly dry, but he does worry on them often, most especially when he’s thinking hard about something. He has a habit of saying honestly… at the start of every other sentence, as if he’s concerned you won’t take his word on anything, even though he’s just talking about how unnaturally hot it was at noon despite it still being spring. He has long eyelashes that you’re equal parts attracted to and jealous of, and he bites the inside of his cheek whenever he wants to pep himself up after grueling shifts. He plays beats you’re not even sure he knows he’s creating against his knee with his fingers, so enthusiastic and consistent in this habit that you want to offer your thigh instead. His shoulders always go first before he laughs, and he does this thing where he raises his hand to cover his mouth at the start of it, which is a shame, because you’d do anything to keep seeing him smile like that — or, better yet, to be the reason for it.

Then there are those things you notice he tries to hide. He always turns his face halfway to the side when he blushes, something he seems to do without fail every time you smile at him. He has to temper the intensity of his grin when you take the time to compliment him on how cool his shirt is, or how nice his hair looks today, or how smart he is, like he doesn’t want you to know how good it makes him feel even if you want him to feel good about it, around you, because of you. Sometimes he denies it for the sake of responding, and his voice always lilts on the first syllable in his refusal to accept what you say, even though he knows you won’t take it for an answer.

And after a couple more careful experiments, you notice that Mark, out of the many things he’s interested in, seems to have a particular thing for your stomach.

You don’t know if it has anything to do with him not really seeing much of it in real life in his own time or if he just has his own kind of fixation on it, but you start to cotton on by the fourth time you meet. An hour of being hunched over a table that’s not at the greatest height in relation to your neck and torso has you stiff, and you’d leaned back in your chair, arms pulling to the air, hoping your spine might feel like realigning if you exerted enough tension pressure that way. Your shirt hadn’t ridden up this time, considering it had been tucked into your jeans, and it was because of this that you’d caught a flicker of something new in his face that you hadn’t seen before.

You could have sworn it looked like disappointment.

Of course, he hides it quickly, as he does with most of his emotional candor, but it’s enough to make you suspicious — enough to make you wonder if Mark is also just keeping something to himself. Or maybe you’re just projecting your own presently secretive nature onto him. Regardless, you think it’s odd that whenever you stand up or stretch, his eyes almost immediately fall to your midriff, like he wants to challenge your clothing into a staring contest before he thinks better of it.

You don’t mind, anyway. He can look as much as he likes. Maybe when the weather’s warmer, you’ll even cater to that interest and wear a crop top. Hopefully, that’ll be the push he needs to act on human instinct and ask you out or, like… bend you over. Maybe.

You’re often plagued with these kinds of thoughts in between the ones you try to keep as family-friendly as possible — now, more so than ever.

Sometimes, it’s easier, especially when you’re caught up in talks with him; despite the fact that he doesn’t seem like much of a conversationalist when it comes to generic matters, when either he or you are enthusiastic about a particular topic, he has a tendency to get carried away. There’s nothing impure about how his eyes light up when you remember to ask him about the movie he saw with his friends over the weekend or the way he hums old Nickelodeon cartoon theme songs under his breath whenever he’s looking for a page in the textbook. It’s more of a situation where you’ll observe something and immediately run with it despite it being an objectively normal action.

Like right now, as you’re watching him turn his pen between his fingers. Now, while he’s shaking his knee in mild impatience, as if he’s trying to will the answer to the worksheets you’ve both been trying to get through for the better part of the day faster. You’d made copies of the problems your professors had assigned and exchanged them under the premise of being able to practice more intensely.

However, whereas Mark is actually focused on solving, you’re just watching him out of the corner of your eye, wondering if he’s ever been told that his fingers are fuck-worthy on a singular, unique level or if it’d feel good for you to ride the thigh he’s currently moving, jeans and all. You consider the feeling of his warm palms on your bare waist as you do it, and you end up wondering if that’s what crosses his mind whenever he sneaks glances at you, too.

You’d know the answer to all those things if he’d fucking ask you out. Maybe you could do it after all. Maybe you should, instead of relying on slowly increasing the probability over such a long period of time. Maybe if you asked nicely, Mark might pull the shades down on the storefront windows and rail you against the glass.

You’re so lost in thought that it genuinely startles you when he plops his textbook over the worksheet, rattling your eraser dangerously close to the edge of the table. You’re still clutching your heart while he rubs his eyes a little too violently.

“Can’t,” he groans, and his neck gives into the weight of his head, allowing it to loll backward. “I feel like the numbers are just melting into each other. I swear, I thought I could read words out of them.”

“Maybe we were a little too ambitious with the double worksheet agenda,” you admit, even though you’ve barely gotten past half of yours and certainly haven’t touched a single item on his. “Should we call it a day for now?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, although he still takes the time to encircle his final answers before clapping his palms to his cheeks (an act that has your mind dangerously close to wandering off inappropriately again) to wake himself up. “Woah. I didn’t even notice how dark it is already. I’d say time flies when you’re having fun, but I’m not too sure about the ‘fun’ part of it…”

You trace his gaze towards the glass; the moon’s already out, surrounded by a smattering of low-light stars. You hadn’t realized how late it had gotten, probably because your mind had been on R-18 mode for most of the afternoon. Also, the days are getting generally shorter, but that fact doesn’t make you feel as embarrassed, at least.

“You got a ride?”

The question once again shocks you out of your small trance, and you turn back to him with wide eyes. “Well — no. Wait, I didn’t know you had a car. Why’d you take the subway, then?”

“Oh — no, sorry, I… don’t.” He looks suddenly sheepish, eyes dropping to the shiny surface of the table for a moment before they snap back up, as if he’s actually actively reminding himself to look at you. “I was wondering if you wanted me to — actually, more than that, are you going home already? Not that you need to stay; it’s not that important, but…”

You try to gloss over the fact that he had just been about to initiate another huge step in the right direction (i.e. offering to walk you home) by beaming at him, maybe a little too widely, if only to mask your disappointment at the sudden shift in conversation. “I have nothing waiting at home for me but a sandwich dinner and Singles Inferno, so hit me with whatever it is.”

“Oh, cool.” His lips turn up, and the corners shake, this show of happiness once again tamped down by his own inexplicable desire to maintain a safe distance. How are you supposed to tell him you’re desperate to bridge that gap without using those exact words? “I came from the flagship store yesterday — the one in Hongdae that I told you about?” He allows the smile to widen slightly when you nod in genuine understanding. “Got the last six boxes of the collection I’ve been trying to finish.”

You whistle appreciatively. “Can I ask you for a loan on my next phone bill? You know, once I’ve upgraded to something pricier.”

“Nah — just itching to complete the set,” he laughs. You wonder if he’s been doing that more often because he knows its crippling effect on you, though you doubt he’s that sly. Again, maybe you’re just projecting too much of your own motivations onto him. “This was probably about two months of saving up combined.”

“No new Iron Man issues to look out for, then?” Your voice is warm even though it takes on a teasing tone; Mark’s hand rubs the back of his neck, and his expression is a little sheepish, but you’re happy that the times he used to go completely quiet, opting only to blush at your attempts to act more familiar with him are pretty much gone now.

“Maybe next month.” You also like that he doesn’t really treat his hobbies as secrets, neither out of shame nor snobbishness. He explains these things to you the same way he does the topics you study — with an air of contentedness, like he’s happy someone listens to him without interrupting. On your end, you have no qualms with listening to his voice for hours, wondering when he’ll stop using it to greet you when you come through the door and when he’ll start saying your name in a way that makes you feel like you’re the only one he sees whenever you’re near. It’s a win-win situation (sort of). “I was actually debating between this collection and a really rare copy of Spi— well, never mind that. I just thought — since you were asking me a bit about blind boxes last time. You know, if you wanted to. With… me.”

As much as he’s become comfortable talking to you about things that don’t involve coffee orders and school, you can’t say that you aren’t doing your fair share of the work in connecting the dots; the demand for your efforts is exponentially higher in moments like this, when you think he’s trying to ask you something but can’t seem to find less-than-eager words to avoid what he thinks might spook you.

Luckily, he augments his fragments with action; reaching into his backpack — which you notice seems to be bulkier than usual — he starts extracting small brown boxes, all with the same design; it seems, for lack of better words, aesthetically gothic, and you reach out to pick one up, turning it over and examining the print on each side with vague interest. Mark starts laying them out on top of each other until there’s a small, somewhat unstable pyramid in front of him, then shifts his attention fully to you, just as you’re putting the box in your hand atop all the rest.

“I’d love to.” You beam as he does, and there’s a wondrous relief in his eyes that tells you he’s glad you manage to catch onto his words — or lack, thereof — surprisingly well. “For as long as you don’t blame me for any bad draws.”

“The contents have already been decided by my own hand — sort of,” he chuckles. “Point is, I would never do that to you. But I won’t lie; I kind of want to rely on your luck a little more.”

“What makes you think I’d have any of that running through my system?”

“Not sure — beginner’s luck, maybe? You just kind of look like one of those kinds of people to me — like… you’re just made of good things.”

You don’t know how to take this compliment; on the one hand, it’s easily one of the sweetest things Mark has ever said to you that doesn’t involve anything with actual sugar content. On the other, you know you’re not as lucky as he makes it sound, considering you’re still striking out on getting past the borderline of friendship with him. All you can do is smile, nodding and making to move closer to him by sliding into the next seat.

It’s hard to ignore the sight of him stiffening; something like surprise mingled with both fear and interest flashes strong across his face, but you don’t do anything to acknowledge the slight change in atmosphere, choosing to settle down comfortably and clap your hands. “So. What are the rules? What can I do, and what can’t I?”

“Uh.” His throat constricts at the right moment, the syllable getting caught and causing him to clear his throat. You know that this is the nearest you’ve ever been to him, the sleeve of your shirt tickling his arm. Upon closer, albeit brief inspection, you note that he’s also rather veiny. That doesn’t do your impurity any favors. “Not… really rules, or anything like that. Just — these are the ones I’ve been looking for. Not that you can really control it, but in case you were curious about that.”

You squint intently at the scaled-down images he points out. There’s one that looks like a penguin caught in an oil spill; another that seems to be in a polar bear costume, dozing; and — “What’s… halo? Halo…bios?”

“It just means marine life,” he answers quickly, like the thought means close to nothing to him to know something that obscure. Whoever said that smart is the new sexy wasn’t joking. “Like… all things that live in the ocean, that kind of thing.”

“And you know this because?”

He pauses, looking thoughtful. “I’m not sure. I guess I must have just learned it when I was curious about what it meant some time ago. Isn’t that how we all learn things?”

You shake your head incredulously, and he smiles a little apologetically. “You never cease to amaze me.” Your nail drums against the silhouette of one with a question mark on it. “What’s this supposed to be? Can you draw your own figurine, or something?”

“No.” He’s clearly amused, but his expression’s still patronizing enough for you to not feel too bad about saying something idiotic. “It’s a secret design — a money drainer, basically. You could buy a full set of this and still not get it. Some people will open hundreds without any luck, so it’s really rare.”

“You don’t want it?”

“I try not to get too caught up in the secret thing,” he admits. “Otherwise…”

“No rare print comic books for the rest of your life, basically?”

He taps his nose, and you both share another laugh. It’s nice, you think, to have come this far — to be someone Mark can share his interests and thoughts with. You may have been stretching the word to its limit when you first punched your way into his social life and called yourself his friend, but it feels more real now, more natural to think about and say. Even if he still sometimes seems to be hyperaware of the gap between the both of you, there’s no denying, at least, that it’s been significantly reduced, and this much is a testament to that.

“Well, leave it up to me. I’ll let all of this beginner’s luck rub off on you,” you announce with overflowing albeit unfounded confidence.

You both decide to open a box each at the same time; Mark suddenly panics and asks you not to unseal the foil bag right away without looking at the card inside first, earning him one slightly alarmed look followed by a burst of laughter at his pained expression when you pretend to rip open the packaging. Comparing pulls, you identify them using the set chart — your luck doesn’t seem to be operating at full capacity yet because you can only offer him the card of one that looks like a floppy pigeon, which he responds to with a slightly apologetic grimace before saying he’s already pulled that thrice in the past. He, on the other hand, is turning the card of the polar bear over in his palm, trying not to make you feel bad for your duplicate pull by slipping it under his textbook when your eyes land on it.

The second round isn’t much better; both of you manage to pull something he’s already added to his collection, and as you’re ripping the seal to your third box, he pauses and watches you. You think it’s because he’s concerned about the obvious shit luck you’ve had thus far and wants to snatch it from you before your negative energy transfigures whatever’s inside into something he doesn’t want, and you’re just about to offer the half-opened package to him before he pushes the one on his end to you.

“No way, Mark.” Your eyes are wide, a palm up to reject it. “If that turns out to be another dupe by my hand, I’m literally going to walk into oncoming traffic.”

He has to control his amusement at your words so that it doesn’t completely shake his voice into incoherence. “I picked all of these while I was there, so if anything, you’re only riding off my bad luck. Besides, this is your first time doing this. I want you to have fun.”

“But,” your voice is pained. “Your money.”

“It’s not a big deal. With how few I need to complete them, I was definitely bound to run into more repeats than new ones.” He taps the front of the textbook — or, at least, the part of it not buried under the figurines and sealing tapes yet. “Probability mathematics.”

“I thought we already ended the study part of the day,” you grumble but concede, putting aside the one you half-opened to tear the top of his. You’re careful when you shake out the foil packaging, making sure to place it upright on the table before extracting the card. Both of your faces fall — yours more than his — when you see it’s a repeat of the polar bear.

“Almost. It would’ve been a pretty lucky pull earlier, so it’s technically not bad,” he tries to reassure you, but you childishly feel like you’ve been the sole source of his disappointment thus far. “Try the last one.”

It’s irrational, but you’re suddenly anxious about it. For some reason, you’re worried that this will topple the carefully constructed ladder you’ve propped up against Mark’s tower of social defense. Even if he’s being genial about your rotten pulls, you don’t know how much of it is just resignation to dismay on his part.

You say a small prayer, then fully rip off the seal; you don’t even take out the packaged figuring anymore. You just shimmy the card out of the box, turning it over when you notice it’s upside down.

For a moment, your shoulders deflate. It’s closest to this pastel purple figurine in the middle of the line-up, its stupid puckered lips almost taunting you. He hadn’t even mentioned it as something he’s looking for, so you almost feel like this has come to a horrible full circle. But then he grabs the box, checks the list, and looks back at your card again. He looks shell-shocked, and you’re not sure if it’s the strong air conditioning directed towards the two of you or if it’s just his hands, but the image he’s holding is shivering slightly.

You look more closely at it, and something just doesn’t feel right. Color palette aside, there are notable differences — different colored lips, a more intricate ear design, and closed eyes. It’s…

“Dream eater,” Mark’s voice is hushed, almost reverent, and very, very close to your ear. “It’s the secret one. You’re… incredible.”

“What are you talking about,” your words are just as raspy; you’re not sure if you’re actually choked up with emotion or something — over a figurine, you have to remind yourself. “You picked all of this. I just ripped open the box.”

The hush that falls over the both of you feels very concrete, weighty on your shoulders. His fingers creep towards the foil packet — the only one he actually opens because there’s no way he’s not keeping it. The shiny purple head gleams under the fluorescent, the glitter around the star and moon designs catching the light as he turns it left to right, like he’s worried it’s a fake. You can tell why people want these things so much; there’s a thrill in you that lingers, makes you feel warm and alert. It’s anticipation, despair, excitement, and triumph all in one sitting.

You’re stroking the smooth curve of the design by the ears lightly when Mark speaks up again and says the most outrageous thing.

“I want you to have it.”

“What?” You actually have to pop your ear canal in front of him with your pinky to make sure he knows how ludicrous he sounds. “This is… you said it was crazy rare.”

“Yeah. And you pulled it, with your magic. That’s like… unimaginable luck. Even more than beginner’s luck.”

“Like I said, I literally just opened the box.”

“No — you have like… the golden touch.”

“Please,” you hiss, a genuine testiness to your voice. “Do not. I was just here for the ride — the experience, and all.”

“Seriously, take it.”

“Absolutely not—”

It’s a chaotic moment of him trying to hand you the figurine and you outright rejecting it, with both your palms working hard to push it back to him. Instead of nudging the plastic back, though, you end up placing the full force of your hands against his fingers.

There’s no actual spark when you touch, but your reactions make it feel like there might as well have been; you even lock eyes in startled unison, like you can’t believe that just happened, before you pull away quickly, Mark drawing the figuring back to his torso while looking away towards the counter, where a lowerclassman is wiping down the stains. You want to scream at your warped reflection in the window. You barely initiate contact with him, but you imagine that if you ever did, you would prefer to not be saying something as abjectly negative as absolutely not while doing so.

Your mind flails in an attempt to mitigate the issue and water down the embarrassment, and clearly he’s struggling to figure it out too, because he pipes up before you can piece your thoughts together.

“No, really.” His tone is a lot milder and, consequently, a lot more persuasive this way. “You should take it. I want you to.”

“It’s not mine. This is your thing — your hobby.”

“That’s why I’m giving it to you. I swear — I want you to keep it.”

“Why?”

He lapses into silence again, but his face is much redder than earlier. His mouth opens in an attempt to say something, but he just manages to uh his way back into a state of quiet, which gives you a chance to speak instead.

“We can… share it,” you suggest. “Shared custody…. ish.”

His eyebrow cocks involuntarily, and his jaw falls again, but all he does in actual response is nod — slowly at first, then with more sureness to the act.

“Yeah. We can share it. I’d… like that.”

You’re glad that the bulk of the awkwardness has fizzled out fairly easily, and when you think about it, this feels like a pretty good course of action; you like that it’s this little link between the two of you now — something you share that no one else can touch.

Mark, you notice, is smiling as well — more to himself than towards you, it seems. His thumb grazes across the face of the figurine, slow across the lips, and you’re once again falling into a pit of nonsense by wondering when he’d do that to you.

“Thanks for staying with me, _________,” he finally says, and your heart jolts and melts all at once. “And for… doing this. For chatting with me. And giving me your luck, and all that. Great way to end the day… with you.”

You say no problem, but you instantly regret it when you realize you could have just said it didn’t have to end just yet.

“__________? Hello? Come back down to Earth?”

“Shut up,” you sigh at the guy seated across you — Seo Youngho, an upperclassman, your Gender Studies classmate, and current project partner, waves in front of your face. You shoo his hand away, which only joins his other one as he throws them in defeat above his head. “Stop moving. Be quiet. Don’t talk.”

“That’s the same thing as shut up and be quiet. What’s up with you?” He demands. “Fifteen minutes ago, you were full of ideas. Now I feel like I’m talking to a wax figure.”

You’d been engrossed in your report for the last hour and a half, and the subject matter is admittedly something you enjoy — the role of gender in Twenty-First Century Korean marketing and advertisement, a title Youngho had taken more than ten minutes to type into the Google Docs header because he was pissed off at how the numbers looked like in the fonts he chose. He’s an enthusiastic classmate and someone you’ve come to be friendly with, not only because he’s genuinely approachable but also because he has fits of nosiness and talkativeness at the strangest moments, so a chunk of your relationship is mostly based on social terrorism on his part. You like him well enough most of the time — save for the last fifteen minutes of this hour.

Because Mark had just come in for his shift fifteen minutes ago, and suddenly Youngho is much too noisy for your taste, and his head is honestly way too big to the point that it gets in the way of your opportunities to see Mark behind the counter. You even resent him for choosing a booth instead of your usual table all of a sudden, because your view of the central barista’s area is much more limited from this angle, especially since the huge espresso machine is in the of your field of vision.

You’re also (currently and abruptly) mad at Youngho because you remember that he’s the reason you’ve had to skip out on a couple of sessions with Mark. Like, it technically isn’t his fault that you have a lot of research to do for the literature review section of the paper, nor is it his fault that this is your final requirement that comprises a whopping forty percent of your grade, but like… you’ll blame him anyway. So you’re much more irritable, and you’ve definitely been missing Mark’s presence. In fact, you kind of just want to shove Youngho’s balloon head away and call Mark over to sit with you, but you’re not that much of an animal to actually do that.

Probably.

There had been inquisitiveness across Mark’s face when he’d come in; his eyes had trailed to the table at which you usually sat, surprised to find two guys hunched over a single phone there instead of the usual you, waiting for him with your eyes bright and your smile wide. You’d like to think it’s because he’s gotten as used to seeing you as you’re used to waiting to see him — like he just expects you to be there.

You hadn’t really known how to call his attention to where you were, especially since Youngho was prattling very matter-of-factly about the academic journal he’d unearthed yesterday and how he thought it would be useful in reshaping the methodology of your paper (whatever). There was a moment in which you briefly considered ordering another cup of coffee just to get in line to talk to him, but your hands were already shaking from the venti you’d had to keep yourself from passing out in front of your partner.

So you’re more than relieved when, half an hour into his shift, Mark finally steps out from behind the huge machine, a mug of water for himself in hand, and turns away from the front of the store to drink it — only for your eyes to lock as he twists his torso in your general direction.

The mug stops just inches from his lips, but you could swear he smiles at you briefly when he recognizes you, so you return the favor. Youngho’s face contorts into abject befuddlement, turning around to see what you’re grinning at.

“Oh, you poor sap,” he snorts, finally letting the puzzle pieces fall into place.

“What?” You’re still distracted even if Mark has taken a gulp of water and is now attending to a gaggle of girls still in the throes of discussing what to order.

“What what? You gonna spend the rest of the day eyefucking Mark Lee from over here? At least let me get a different table.”

“Shut up,” you repeat sullenly, coming back down to his level and finally — albeit reluctantly — meeting his eye (just because Mark isn’t looking your way). “What were you saying about the sample size?”

“That it’s much too large to be feasible, a point we closed twenty fucking minutes ago,” he says pointedly. “Is it a thing for baristas or a thing for smart guys?”

“It’s a thing for Mark Lee,” you sigh, following Youngho’s suit and shutting your laptop close. You’re at least glad he’s not annoyed that you’re delaying work for a crush, or maybe he’s also just equally lazy at this point. “You ever look at someone and think you would give it all up for a chance to hit that?”

“No, because this isn’t a porn movie, and I’m clearly not the main character in whatever’s going on in there.” He jabs at your forehead; you swat his hand away again.

“Well, I would.”

He rolls his eyes. “So do it, dumbass.” He says this so simply, like he can’t imagine why you’d be holding yourself back, which is a valid thing to feel, except it’s not really any of his business.

“Can’t.”

“Because?”

“Because it doesn’t fit into my elegant master plan. Also because I want him to ask me out. I just want that victory.”

“Oh yeah, there it is.” Youngho leans over, wiggling his fingers at your ears like he’s greeting a next-door neighbor. “Hey, delusion. Good to see you. Do you even understand how crazy it is that you’re taking a Gender Studies class while waiting for your dick-in-shining-armor like a damsel in distress?”

“Asshole,” you grumble, violently opening your laptop monitor again. “Get back on Google Drive.”

Thankfully, Youngho complies, and the next two hours pass in relative silence and productivity, with you hammering out a vague references list that he promises to format in your stead so you can ‘spend more time dreaming about Mark Lee between your legs.’ You want to strangle him, but there are far too many people in the cafe for you to get away with it. Also, aforementioned Mark Lee would only be a witness to your criminal record, and while you think there’s something romantic in killing for love, or whatever, you’re not sure it’d make the best impression on him.

“Next week’s my birthday,” Youngho announces as he stands to tug on his jacket.

“Congratulations,” you say wryly, peeking over his bulletin board torso to see Mark tugging off his apron and picking up his school bag. Your heart hammers in your chest as he looks over at you briefly, and something like embarrassment passes over his face before he busies himself with neatly folding the fabric. “Go away.”

“Usually people look uncomfortable for not knowing and then start thinking about what gifts to get the celebrant, but I always felt you were kind of a revolutionary.” He snaps his fingers right in front of your eyes, and you look up at him, a little offended. “I’m having a get-together — and by get-together, I mean it’s gonna be a rager. You should come.”

“When?”

“Next Thursday.”

“Can’t,” you chew on your lip, wondering if Mark is leaving. His movements seem particularly slow, but you wonder if he’s just taking his sweet time because he has nothing better to do. Of course, he would have something better to do if Youngho stopped fucking obscuring you from him and vice versa. “Busy. School… whatever.” Not completely untrue. Most of what you do with Mark has to do with school.

“This moony-eyed thing is just not for you, I fear.”

“Are you going to be here all day?”

“Are you? Why don’t you just fucking ask him out, you lunatic?” You can’t imagine why he sounds so exasperated. It’s not like this is his problem — or his business, for that matter. “Maybe if you did, you could fuck him and move on with your life and be an actual contributor to society’s development.”

“Has anyone ever told you how nosy you are?”

“Constantly.” He brings his palms down on the table, the thud shaking you out of another oncoming stupor. “Think about it. Maybe it’ll make you stop making that stupid face.”

“You’ve got a stupid face,” you mumble, sulking as he pinches your cheek as a goodbye before heading out of the shop.

At least you finally get to see Mark in full, glorious view — and you get to watch him come closer, although his stride is somewhat cautious.

“Hey.” Even his voice sounds unsure — almost like the way he used to sound earlier in your friendship. “I didn’t want to interrupt you and… your friend?”

“Oh. Well, you wouldn’t have been interrupting,” you inform him, completely genuine. “He was spouting a lot of nonsense.”

“You guys seemed pretty close.”

“I guess it’s a proximity thing,” you sigh, and Mark raises his eyebrows slightly in question. “We’re partners.”

“Oh.” The way he draws out the syllable is slow. “That definitely makes sense.”

The silence stretches out between the two of you again, with Mark checking his shoelaces. You almost grab your head; it hadn’t occurred to you until now how damaging missing meetings with him would be to your friendship. You feel like you’re slowly being dragged back to square one, and you want to give him an explanation.

“He’s actually… I haven’t been able to see you because I’ve been working on something with him.” you offer, trying to answer a question he didn’t even ask. “Sorry about that. I swear I’ll be back on track tomorrow.”

“No, no — I completely understand.” He pauses thoughtfully. “Thank you… for telling me, though. I— uh, appreciate that.”

“I’d love to see you tomorrow, though.” You try injecting more pep into your voice. “I’ve really been behind on my algebra. I’ve definitely been drowning without you.”

“Oh, yeah.” A small smile graces his lips, but you can’t tell if the reluctance behind it is from fatigue or something that looks oddly like sadness. “I’m down for tomorrow. Same time, same table, right?”

“Yeah, for sure.”

“Cool. See you, _________.”

You watch him turn on his heel, walking to the front door, and something like fear mingled with desperation clutches your heart. Fuck the traditional route, you think. You don’t know what it is about how he’s acting now, but it’s making you feel like he’s slipping through your fingers. All that hard work — there’s no way you’re letting him go.

“Mark, wait.”

You’re at his side, fingers curled into the sleeve of his jacket before you can figure out exactly what you want to say. You feel as surprised as he looks at your sudden liveliness in action, and his gaze trails from your clenched fist to your face slowly, like he’s trying to memorize this whole position.

Your exhale’s shaky, but even still, you try not to sound overtly self-conscious when you ask, “Do you like Chinese food?”

Something in the furrowing of his brows tells you he can’t seem to see where this conversation is headed, and that slightly bothers him. “I like it well enough. Why?”

“There’s this really good dim sum buffet near my mom’s office. We tried it before — the Xiaolongbao is awesome.”

“Hey, that sounds pretty cool. I love Xiaolongbao. I’ll definitely have to check it out then.”

You want to tear your hair out. “How about — you know, checking it out with me? Tonight? You know… together. With me.” You already fucking said that.

You’ve never seen Mark blink this rapidly; he looks like he’s trying to crunch large numbers in his head. A small part of you actually worries that he’s malfunctioning, but just when you think he’s going to glitch out completely, he clears his throat. It bothers you how uncomfortable he looks. “Tonight? Oh man… it’s my cousin’s birthday tonight. I can’t… reschedule. Well, obviously. Maybe some other… time?”

Your ‘oh, yeah’ is small, and so is the ghost of Mark’s smile. You can’t help but feel like he’s pitying you a little, although he doesn’t seem like the type, but the thought of it alone makes you want to puke. He makes no motion to move, and you think he’s extending this awkward moment out on purpose until you realize you’re still hanging onto him and he has no way of telling you to let go nicely.

Fingers unfurling from his sleeve, you take a careful step back, but when he walks away, it feels like you’ve gone much, much further away.

The worst part is that you can’t even figure out why.

Luckily, the next few times you see Mark, you manage to rebuild a rather shaky bridge back to where you had been. You even manage to strong-arm him into sharing an apple fritter one afternoon, and you know it’s a bit sad to think about it a particular, untrue way, but you can’t help but pattern what you’re doing into some kind of pseudo-date. Pathetic isn’t a word you normally associate yourself with, but you’ve been borderline desperate for progress where there seems to be none, so you take small victories where you can get them.

Unfortunately, you haven’t been able to revisit your stupid dim sum plan; sometimes, he says he has somewhere important to be, but most of the time, it’s actually your fault. No — it’s Youngho’s fault, because he keeps bothering you to finish the project. You’re aware that he can’t do it himself, but since he’s informed of your current plight, he could at least stand to be more sympathetic.

And you hate the way Mark looks every time you splutter out that you have to take a rain check for that reason; it’s not even disappointment, or something, which would be much more understandable. It’s this mysterious kind of faraway look, where his eyes glaze over a bit and he seems suddenly very lost in thought — or completely dissociated. He never strays away from his normal response of “next time, then,” but that ‘next time’ fades into the weekend and into the start of next week, and you have to spend every other evening with an annoying Seo fucking Youngho on a Google Meets call instead of eating soup dumplings loveshot style with Mark Lee.

Thursday night rolls around, and the former performs the most irritating stunt yet: blowing up your phone with so many KakaoTalk messages that it almost buzzes off the table during your session with Mark. Luckily, he seems to have learned a thing or two from his comic books, catching it before it hits the floor.

“You sure you don’t want to answer it?” He asks, gingerly handing the phone to you like he’s afraid it’s going to explode from all the pinging.

“Without the shadow of a doubt,” you sigh, flipping the screen downwards. Buzz.

“It kind of seems important. Or, like… urgent.”

“He’ll live. Unfortunately.”

Mark falls silent, fiddling with the page he’s on. He’s neatly highlighted the formulas on the page with blue ink, and his finger keeps scratching at the slightly wet paper. Buzz.

“Didn’t you say you two were partners?”

“Yes. Also unfortunately.” Youngho is actually a great person, but you kind of hate how Mark’s paying more attention to his texts than to you right now. “What did you get for number ten?” Buzz.

“A hundred and twe— are you really just going to let it keep ringing like that? What if he’s… I don’t know. In trouble? Like, he needs you?”

You smack your phone on its back, hoping that the punishment reaches Youngho because he absolutely is in trouble — only with you. “He’s just making a racket because it’s his birthday and he probably wants a bunch of people to trash his parents’ house, or something.”

“Sounds like fun.” The dubious tone in Mark’s voice indicates that his idea of fun definitely isn’t that. Buzz.

“Not really, but I assume he’ll only pipe down if he manages to get his way.”

“He must really want you there.”

There it is again — that weird, distant expression that makes you feel like he’s trying to free himself from the tethers of the earth. You close your textbook in defeat; it wasn’t even like you got the answer to number ten correct anyway. Buzz.

“He just wants everyone there, I bet. But I probably should show up so he shuts up.”

“Oh — yeah, okay. We’ll call it a day, then?” He’s avoiding your eye as he starts packing his things, which is actually impressive because you have practically nothing but your book to keep in comparison to his pencils and protractor, so you just stare, willing him to look at you.

You want to know what’s going on in his head. You want to know what’s going on in his heart — what he thinks of you, why he seems warm one second then almost like a stranger the next. You want to know if he knows you like him and if him not doing anything even if he knows is a sign that he doesn’t like you back. You want to know if he’d let you kiss him, if he’d kiss you first, if you can meet not because of sweet cream cold brews or algebra but because you just want to be together.

You just don’t know how to ask. For as much as you like him, for as much as you want him, you haven’t figured out the most basic part of this — if you mean anything more than a two hour talk to him at all.

“Mark.” This feels awfully like the dim sum conversation, only somehow ten times more disastrous. “Come with me.”

“Sorry?” The appalled look on his face makes you squirm in your seat.

“I don’t really want to go, but maybe if we go together… we can just hang out a bit and leave once it’s boring… I think it’d be fun,” you explain lamely, deciding at the last second to drop the with you that had originally come with your sentiment.

“I don’t think your… partner will like someone uninvited showing up.”

“I’m inviting you.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works.”

“You’d be, like, my saving grace or something — my excuse to scram. We’ll say we came right from a study session; we only popped in halfway through for the sake of greeting him a happy birthday. Then we can just go. We can say — uh, we’ve got more work to do.” You’re practically begging him at this point, and you don’t even get why. You just don’t want him to leave looking the way he does — confused and a little detached. You want the Mark that had smiled at you while giving you your coffee — the one that had kindly pointed out an arithmetic mistake in the most gentle way possible. You want to open blind boxes with him, whine about your rotten luck, and part ways with his warmth still against your coat sleeve.

You don’t know what comes over you then, but you pluck up the courage and initiative to slip your hand in his. He stiffens a little, but you don’t care; your fingers squeeze his in urging.

Something in his expression breaks — cracks first, then falls away, before he’s nodding, still looking vaguely thoughtful.

“If you think it’ll help you, then… okay.”

The bus ride to Youngho’s neighborhood is uneventful because it’s quiet. You stand close to Mark at all times, but you barely touch, save for the times your knuckles accidentally brush his when you lurch forward slightly as the vehicle comes to a dangerously abrupt stop. He doesn’t ask anything about the party or the company that’ll populate it, which is just as well, because you don’t have a clue.

You know it’s the right house because the door’s wide open and there’s music coming from inside; you can’t make out much more than the deep bass pumping through the concrete, but you’re pretty sure it’s making your heart jump in your chest even more than it already is. There are quite a few people you vaguely recognize on the lawn, and even more that you absolutely don’t; a good number of them glance at you and Mark as you step through the threshold then look away, probably deciding you’re of no real consequence or harm to their moods.

Youngho’s easily spottable because of his massive height; he towers over the rest of his guests, and the red plastic cup in his hand calls even more attention because he’s lifted it over everyone else’s heads. You throw Mark an apologetic glance that he responds to with a short nod before you dive into the crowd alone, trying to weave your way to where you’d last seen Youngho.

“Bro, finally!” Youngho greets you, pretty much shouting over the music. “Where’s the gift? Did you leave it on the table?”

“Happy birthday, Youngho. Do you know how close you were to being blocked?”

“I see you brought mister espresso with you,” he ignores your comment completely, nodding to Mark. When you turn back to see him, you notice he’s squishing his arms closer to his sides, trying to minimize the space he takes up. “So what? Y’all get to hook up already?”

“No. I brought him here because we were in the middle of something and someone,” you stop, offering him a pointed look that’s also ignored. “Wouldn’t stop texting.”

“Cockblock,” the guy next to Youngho, who you now realize has been eavesdropping, singsongs. “Oh, sorry. You looked angry when you stomped through the crowd, so I wanted the juicy details. Name’s Jaehyun.”

You take the hand he offers you briefly, introducing yourself. When you say your name, realization dawns on his face, and he jabs his forefinger at you.

“Oh, dude. You’re that girl — the Starbucks Showstopper.”

“The what?”

“That’s what his friends call you.” He scratches his ear, seemingly racking his brain for more information. “I’m with Mark and a couple of his friends — Lee Donghyuck and Na Jaemin — in College Algebra.”

You completely gloss over the fact that you’ve finally found out the real government identity of the mysterious figure named ‘Hyuck.’ “They… talk about me?”

“From time to time. Not really. Once or twice. Donghyuck only calls you that because Mark apparently keeps blowing them off to hang out with you.”

“How do you know this?”

“I have ears. It’s not hard when they talk like no one’s around.”

You shush Youngho’s exclamation of and you’re saying I’m nosy?, your heart hammering hard in your ears, practically drowning out the music. “What… what else did they talk about?”

“Not sure. Something about not seeing you that often these days. Jaemin teasing Mark about getting dropped now that you don’t need his help anymore. Donghyuck piling on and saying you’ve got a boyfriend.”

“What?”

“Don’t shoot the messenger.” Jaehyun still inches away from you when your voice rises in pitch and decibel. Some people around you start, then move away as well, as if scared you’re going to incinerate them. “They were just teasing him that you probably ditched him after you started dating someone. Your partner in some project, or what.”

“Oh gross.” The realization hits you like a speeding truck. Youngho’s expression is affronted.

“First of all, you bitch. Second of all, as if I would date someone who didn’t even buy me a gift. Or want to come. Or yelled at me after coming. Wow — now that I think about it, you’re terrible, _________.”

“Oh, shit; that someone was you?” The only person that isn’t tense in this conversation is Jaehyun, who laughs point blank at Youngho’s sour face. “I think they were offering to put you into one of their Death Note notebooks. Sucks for you, hotshot.”

“What a smudge on my good name,” Youngho sighs mournfully. “On my special day, too.”

“I desperately need you two to be quiet for one second. I have to — where’s Mark?”

Even when you stand on your tiptoes, you’re not nearly as tall as the two of them; it’s Youngho, with his freakish height, who manages to spot Mark by the bowl of nachos, looking as though he’s trying to decide if they’re safe for consumption. You hardly excuse yourself; actually, all you say is a distracted “later” that dismisses Jaehyun’s cooing that something’s going down and you should clue him into all the mess later as a thank you. Your appreciation of his sudden and somewhat short-lived presence in your life is still up in the air.

Mark’s busy making a sour face at the sip of punch he’d just taken; he only straightens up when you’re right in front of him, putting his cup down next to the nachos. “Hey. Did you get to find… um…”

“That’s not important.” Your hand bunches the fabric of his jacket in a death grip, something he barely has time to register, let alone question, before you’re tugging him through the throng of people. You want somewhere quiet, somewhere private, and you initially consider the lawn, except you know it’s strewn with cups and has stragglers debating whether to go home or not. You can’t risk any of them being expert eavesdroppers like Jaehyun, so you make a beeline for the stairs instead.

“We’re not leaving yet?” He has to shout over the music, but there’s no resistance in his stride; he follows you up and waits patiently, although a little perplexed, as you check the doors on the second floor. Two are locked, one is a bathroom, and the other is a messy, musk aftershave-scented place you can only presume is Youngho’s room. Talking in front of a sink and a toilet doesn’t feel like it’ll be very productive, so you just drag Mark into the bedroom, kicking aside the crumpled shirt on the floor — which you could’ve sworn you’d seen Youngho wear for class yesterday. “_________, what’s going on?”

“Mark Lee,” you burst out, ignoring the fact that his eyes widen slightly at your tone. “What’s your fucking deal?”

You don’t think you’ve ever sworn in front of him before; that much is evident when he continues to gawk silently, unable to find words to respond to your question. Or maybe it’s just the volume and force with which you demand an answer. The problem is that you don’t even know what kind of reply you want. A small part of you nags that this is uncalled for, especially at this level, with you practically caging him into an unknown room. In fact, even now, you’re still embarrassed at your behavior, wondering if you’ve gone too far and stepped over a line between you.

But the source of all your frustrations is, in fact, that line — one so strangely drawn, clear at some points and almost invisible at others. Sometimes, he seems simply content with the barest minimum of friendship: talking to you, helping you, politely laughing at your (terrible) jokes. But there are also times he blushes too hard for it to not mean anything, times that he makes you feel like you could mean a little something more to him too.

Yet, from there, he wavers, stepping back so as not to get entangled in something you don’t understand — like when he grows distant every time you mention Youngho to him. You don’t understand why he would unless he echoed, even just a little, the longing in you. But you also don’t get why he stays and builds more walls around himself, like he’s determined to ignore all the other signs — like he doesn’t want to know if it’s really true and will just accept the assumption that it is. You hate not knowing where you stand with him, and while you could easily ask, you know you don’t want to.

And for a long time, you’ve convinced yourself that it’s because you want to see Mark step out of his comfort zone and initiate something, but the ugly truth is staring at you: it’s simply just that you can’t stand the idea of seeing him come to the conclusion that you can’t be anything more to him than someone he makes a sweet cream cold brew for every so often.

There’s a moment of tense silence between you two, where you’re just staring at each other — him, perplexed, and you, agitated — and the only sound that passes is the faint but unmistakable voice of Youngho going who has the cake cutting knife? from somewhere down below. You try not to get caught up in the fact that Mark still looks cute when he’s dumbfounded.

“Sorry?”

“What,” you repeat pointedly. “Is your deal? Why have you been acting so weirdly around me these days? I thought — I thought we were… getting closer. I thought… we…”

You’ve confirmed it now; you’re the epitome of cowardliness. You can’t even say I thought we liked each other — because you know that you do, but you still can’t honestly, assuredly tell if he does. Maybe you just read too deeply into the smallest things — smiles before he asks for your order, glances at you when he thinks you’re not looking, sharing the dream eater figurine — to fuel your own emotions without really checking the depth of his.

“I thought we were cool,” you reroute your words, and they come out flat and lame. “But just when I think you’re warming up to me, you suddenly pull away. Like… you’re afraid of me. Or you don’t like me. I don’t know.”

“It’s not — I don’t — I’m not afraid of you,” he stumbles over his words, and even in the darkness of this space, you see his face turn bright red, very quickly. His feet shuffle, not because he’s lost his balance but because he seems to want to get rid of a sudden restlessness. “I do like you. We are — we were getting — we’re close. We — we’re friends. You said that, and we are.”

“Is it only because I say we are that you agree?”

“What? No, I—” His hand passes over his face, slowing at the curve of his chin. “I really like being friends with you. I like being around you.”

“Then why do you act so weird these days? Like — you’ll be fine one moment, then you’ll back off, like you suddenly remembered you don’t want to be around me.”

“It’s not like that. I’m — I don’t get…” He takes a deep inhale, recalibrating himself for a moment before his voice comes out again, less strained this time. “I just don’t want you to feel uncomfortable around me.”

“How could I?” There’s something more than confusion coloring your voice; there’s hurt, too, and he looks as surprised as you feel at hearing it. “I wanted to be your friend. I was the one that asked you to hang out. I was the one who wanted you to talk to me, to help me, to go to a goddamn dim sum place with me. Why would I feel uncomfortable? Or are you just using this as some roundabout way to say you feel uncomfortable?”

Mark falls silent, and you don’t know why this speaks volumes all of a sudden. His eyes are trained to the tips of his sneakers, which are rising in soft bumps every few seconds; he’s curling his toes inside them. You feel like you’ve gotten the worst answer possible, and something grows cold in your chest.

“You feel uncomfortable around me.” You rehash, but it’s no longer a question. “You don’t know how to get rid of me.”

“No, it’s not that.”

“You think I’m only using you.”

“No.”

“Then what?” Your voice breaks, no longer out of anger, but a desperate sadness. The moment your eyes feel hot and prickly, you decide you want to end the conversation. It’s embarrassing, you think, for someone like Mark Lee — whom you like, who only ever sees you as a friend — to see you get choked up at a fucking birthday party at someone else’s house.

A beat later, you’re mumbling a half-hearted forget it, and you detest overdramatics, but you hate the idea of being in a room with someone who’ll never return your feelings even more right now; you push past him, already on the thought of calling a cab home instead of taking the bus so that no half-drunk businessmen coming from their company dinners see you crying.

But something warm wraps around your wrist, then closes over your hand, and you’re unable to move, Mark’s palm pressed against the back of yours. When you look back, you notice he’s still not looking at you, but his ears are practically on fire with how red they are, and you feel his fingers tighten slightly, tremble slightly against yours.

“It’s not that. I didn’t ever want you to think — I heard about you two. That you were dating someone. Seo Youngho.”

“What does that matter?” Your words come out a little more bitterly than you expect, and you have to remind yourself to reel it in. “That doesn’t explain your discomfort.”

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he repeats, still evidently careful in choosing his words. “Because you wanted to be friends.”

“I don’t understand,” you state bluntly. In the back of your mind, you note that Mark’s grip keeps tightening and loosening, unsure of whether to keep holding on or let go. But there’s something else, too — the soft graze of skin against yours, his thumb gliding over your knuckles.

“That was all you said you wanted to be, right?” He waits for a response, but when you don’t give him one, he lets out a shaky breath and continues. “You kept saying — we were friends. You wanted us to be close like that. I just wanted to respect it, even if…”

“Respect what?”

“That you didn’t want… anything else.”

The music downstairs is a bit tamer now; you hear the door opening and closing every so often, signaling guests leaving here and there, but there are still enough footsteps downstairs for you to know that there’s a crowd Youngho hasn’t gotten rid of and therefore has to attend to. That much is good; you’d get slapped with a homicide charge if he came up here all of a sudden.

“You were jealous.”

Mark’s fingers pinch the bridge of his nose for a moment. “I tried to stop. I don’t have a lot of practice with — well, I didn’t know how to approach the situation. I thought I was still acting normally; I didn’t think… I didn’t want you to feel weird and stop hanging out with me just because… I couldn’t fix it.”

“Your friends are assholes,” you mumble, and he finally meets your eye, equal parts startled and amused. “We aren’t. Weren’t. We never were dating.”

“Even without that, I thought… it was a bit embarrassing. Liking someone like you — someone as pretty as you, as nice as you — I thought it would make you feel weird. Then you’d start avoiding me too. Or, worse, you’d keep doing it just because… you… felt bad for me.”

You don’t know what you find more ridiculous — that you hadn’t seen figured it out or that you could have avoided all of this if you’d just been a little more honest with him too. Mark’s hand starts loosening around yours, a little too much, and you turn your palm and grip his hand before he can escape. He stiffens again, just like earlier, but you now understand better why he does.

“I just wanted to keep hanging out with you as much as I could. I thought… It’d be fine, just spending time with you, and I’d be able to like you for a while, on my own, then…” He looks a little pained. “Then just let you go. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry you couldn’t let go?” You sigh softly, your palm guiding his until they connect, face to face, and you can finally lace your fingers into his. There’s no resistance, but his hand trembles slightly in yours still. “If there’s anything you should be apologizing for, it’s that you ever thought of doing it.”

Something clears in the air, lightens in his expression, and he chuckles, albeit a little shyly still. “It’s because I never thought someone like you would like someone like me.”

“I like you.” And it feels right to say it now, not at all out of the blue, never in fear of an answer he’s already given. “I like you when you smile at me every time you ask for my order. I like that you never get impatient when I’m getting my answers wrong. I like seeing you excited when you talk about a new series you’re looking forward to — something new you really want to collect. When you blush, when you laugh loudly, when you spin your pen in your hand — I like you in all those times.”

“Even when I’m jealous?”

“Especially when you are.” Your free hand comes up to cup his jaw, and you’re reminded of the fact that you’ve wanted to feel the strength of the angle under your palm for ages now. It’s not at all a disappointment, and your heart flutters irregularly in knowing you could’ve done this a long time ago, but it doesn’t matter because you’re doing it now, and fuck if Mark Lee doesn’t look good this close to you. “So be jealous — because now, you know you can be.”

Kissing him is better than you imagined, and you’ve imagined a little too much to be embarrassed at this point; there’s a heat to his lips that matches the one across his face, an upturn to them that makes you smile too. The setting’s not at all an expected one, but you’ll take it, not because it’s dark or because it’s private but because Mark’s in here with you, and you would have kissed him in a brightly lit football field full of people for as long as he’d let you.

You’d like to think he’s flushed for a reason other than shyness when you pull away, even if his laugh is quiet and breathy. In fact, when you murmur not enough, he’s the one that closes the gap this time, offering freely what you ask for with such little eloquence. The natural trepidation in his mouth relaxes, gives way to a curiosity that keeps you locked for so long that you forget you need to breathe, much more intent on finding out if Mark’s tongue tastes as good as you’ve imagined for so long.

It doesn’t; it tastes even better.

It’s still not enough, not by a long shot, but you have to resurface before you pass out like this, and even he looks a little dazed when you pull away — not in a bad way, with a grin on his face that you can only classify as endearingly goofy: slightly lopsided and a little shy, but with an unmistakable air of satisfaction.

“Months,” he mumbles, his lips still dangerously close to yours. Your eyebrows rise in questioning, and he laughs in that infectious way that makes you want to join in without even knowing what the punchline is. “I’ve been thinking of kissing you for months.”

And you do share the laughter this time, not out of amusement but of a happiness that spills without restraint. “But you’re suddenly holding back now?”

“Just letting myself bask in the moment, I guess. Letting it sink in so I remember everything.”

The two of you stand there quietly, still trying to fully parse the progression of events, and a small part of your mind registers that Mark’s thumb is still drawing circles on your skin. It’s also not enough — this touch, this closeness. You know now that he’s been thinking of you for months, and it reminds you that you spent that time dreaming of him too. And you remember you’ve always wanted to be even more familiar with him, and suddenly the desire is overwhelming; he’s right here, and you don’t ever want him out of your grasp again.

“Where are you going?” He’s only curious for the sake of it; there’s no alarm in the question because you keep your fingers tightly woven in his, tugging him along as you walk past him to the door. He’s still staring in wonder after the lock clicks shut. “What’s… happening now?”

“You waited months to kiss me, right?” He nods in response at your question. “I’ve been waiting just as long to have you too.”

His mouth falls open, but he doesn’t manage to say anything; his jaw tightens just as quickly when he feels your free hand trail down his chest, feather-light and asking for a green light. Your index finger stops just above his navel and draws back slowly, but not before you feel the shiver that runs down his torso.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” you murmur, giving his hand a little squeeze. “But I just want you to know — I want to. I want you.”

A thoughtfulness settles on his face, and his eyes graze over yours, trying to read your seriousness. You don’t know how honest you look, but your words hold enough truth in them. A silence stretches over the next minute, but to you, it feels like an eternity, and you lose the test of patience somewhat, smiling softly at him.

“You don’t want to?”

“I—” His tongue peeks out, running over his bottom lip. “I do. It’s not that I don’t want to, but…”

“You seem worried.”

A hesitant nod. “I’ve never — well, no, I have, but not — with someone like you.”

“What’s someone like me?” You laugh airily.

“Someone pretty like you — I don’t know. Someone who seems to know exactly what they want. Someone who seems like… they could do better than me.”

“Mark.” You can’t keep the incredulity out of your voice. “I do know exactly what I want. I want you. The rest — I don’t care about. As long as it’s you, I want it.”

He cracks a smile, half of relief, half of disbelief. You don’t miss his hand coming up to press, warm, against your waist. “For real?”

Your fingers curl into the front of his shirt — an anchor to bring you closer, until the tips of your noses are brushing. “For real.”

The third time you kiss is slow, almost careful; there’s lingering worry in the line of his mouth that your lips try to ease until his slightly part under the movements of yours. You feel the tension leave his form in waves — first in his shoulders, then in his arms, until you’re able to press yourself closer and feel the slight give of his frame against your smaller one. He’s radiating an immense amount of body heat that’s pricking your skin and keeping you alert, and you’re hyperaware of the smallest things — the weak tremble in his mouth, the slight roughness of his teeth under your tongue, the ridges of his palate above it.

He tastes nothing like what he smells, you learn. Instead of the air of earthy coffee stuck to clean linen, you inhale a combination of spearmint and mild saltiness that’s made slightly sharper by the lingering splash of alcohol from his accidental sip of punch earlier. You decide then and there that this disparity is important to you; it makes you feel like you’re the only one who can have this experience — that everyone else can know his scent, but now, only you can know what Mark Lee tastes like.

You have to keep your wits about you to avoid this addictive stimulation of your senses; you let go of his hand only to lock your fingers around his neck, and there’s a show of trust in how he lets you lead him backwards, until his knees are hitting the edge of the unmade bed. The kiss breaks as he’s forced to settle on the mattress, and he looks up at you in what can only be described as a quiet kind of awe. He doesn’t complain when you place your hands, heavy, on his shoulders, using his sturdy form to keep you stable as you move to straddle his lap.

“I feel like,” his voice is hoarse as he speaks up. “We should have picked a different location. Someone… could walk in.”

“I locked the door,” you remind him, a light reassurance in your voice. He doesn’t say anything immediately, but it’s clear there are cogs turning in his head, and you think it’s unfair that he’s thinking way too hard about something else that isn’t you, right now, in this position. In a bid to rectify this, your face presses into the side of his neck, breathing in that familiar scent and leaving a light kiss on his skin right after. Your lips mark the moment he swallows hard at the contact. “Besides, would you really be that unhappy if someone did?”

His hands tighten against your waist, prompting you to leave another kiss against his collarbone. “What — what do you mean?”

“You wouldn’t like it if someone — say, Youngho — walked in to see me on your lap like this?”

The silence that follows your words is tense, and you can tell that Mark’s breathing has become shallower. Again, you can feel his throat constricting slightly, and you can’t help but laugh breathily as you nip at his skin, just under his Adam’s apple. He’s surprisingly easy to tease, you realize — quick to turn speechless and prone to hanging onto your words.

To say that you wouldn’t want to use that to your advantage would be a downright lie.

“Tell me,” you urge, your tone deceptively gentle. “You wouldn’t want him to see you kissing me like this? To see me wrapped around you, begging for more, saying your name over and over? You don’t want him to watch you take me — so he knows you’re the only one that can?”

A strangled groan punctuates your words, but it comes from him; his fingers dig hard into your side with barely constructed restraint. “What do you want from me, _________?”

“I want to know if kissing me was the only thing you wanted for months.”

You pull your head away, nudging his chin with the tip of your nose. Another groan escapes him, and his head tilts back slightly, almost like he’s praying. But when his gaze comes down to meet yours at your level again, you see a firm resolution in his eyes that stirs your heart — which takes off the moment he shakes his head, slowly but surely.

“Then,” you whisper. “What do you want from me?”

He doesn’t say so much as shows; he takes from you your breath, steals another kiss that’s now firmer and more openly demanding. Suddenly, his mouth can’t seem to stay still, trapping your lower lip in between his, drawing out your taste until it mixes with his against his teeth. You feel your head growing light again, and you’re pleasantly surprised that it’s suddenly become difficult to keep up with his lips, asking more from you without restraint. A hum of need sounds in the back of his throat, vaguely dissatisfied, and he’s telling you wordlessly that it isn’t enough right before he attaches his lips to the base of your neck, just above your collar. You think he’s just about to return the favor, but a laugh leaves you when you realize he’s taken it a step further, his teeth grazing your skin lightly, soft nips signaling how eager he is to sink his teeth in with only his slowly weakening self-control stopping him from doing it. Mark’s breathing is slightly labored when he pulls his lips away, warm breath fanning over your chest.

“It’s crazy — and stupid,” he croaks out, voice slightly raspy. “But I want it, and I don’t.”

“What do you mean?” Your fingers drag into his hair, combing it upward messily from his nape. He leans in for a quick kiss that’s somewhat misplaced, landing on the corner of your mouth instead of squarely atop it.

“I want them — him to see us. To see me with you, kissing you — fucking you, too. I want everyone to know we’re like this.”

You’ve never heard Mark say anything so forwardly before; a sweet, warm flush builds in your face, pleased at how comfortably he manages to say it — pleased that he’s saying it to you. “Then what’s the problem?”

“I don’t want him to see you.” There’s a bluntness to his words, but hiding behind them is an undertone of pleading — a serious request. “I don’t want him to see how pretty you look. I don’t want him to see you when you’re bare, or how you look when I’m inside you. I don’t want him to see—”

His voice wavers and dies, and you wonder if he’s embarrassed, but when you read his expression, you see an unyielding longing. A smile tugs at your lips, and your hand comes around to cup his chin, thumb extending upwards to drag his lower lip down.

“You don’t want him to see what’s only yours.”

He swallows hard again, but he doesn’t wait long to nod. Understanding passes between the both of you, silently but completely, and Mark presses his face to your throat, feeling the hum resonate as he places another long, firm kiss there.

“You’re mine,” he whispers, in a way that almost feels like he wants to convince himself of something impossible to believe. He doesn’t even wait for your affirmation, prefers to read it in the way you shiver lightly once his lips travel further down. His kisses trail past the collar of your shirt, and his hands are unabashed in how they seek skin, pushing the fabric upward so he can settle the palms of his hands, warm against your waist. Oddly, they don’t travel upwards; they only brush against the dip, down slightly over the upward rise of your hips, then upwards again, almost soothingly. It’s almost like he wants his mouth to meet them, but he stops halfway, sidetracked by the curve of your breasts.

He barely pulls away, only does for a moment, enough to meet your eyes.

“You’re only mine,” he repeats, his voice softer now. You realize he’s still waiting for some confirmation, and when you do, you’re quick to give it to him — quick to erase any doubt.

“I’m yours,” you affirm in the same tone, in the same careful volume. “Only yours, Mark.”

Whatever else he wanted to ask for, he knows you’ve given assent; that much is clear when he buries his face between your tits, inhaling your scent. You briefly wonder if he might feel just as intoxicated around you as you do around him, if your pleasant dizziness in being this close to him, in tasting and smelling him is something he experiences too, but you don’t get much time to dwell on it the moment you feel his lips part, a slight wetness seeping through the fabric. He’s kissing your chest, teeth grazing just above the cup of your bra, nipping without any real objective other than to feel the pad’s slight resistance to his mouth.

You almost miss what he says as he shifts his head, lips brushing over the curve of your breast — another breathless ‘mine’ that isn’t ever punctuated; his lips still stay parted, mouthing at the cloth, like he’s desperate to feel what’s underneath through it. There’s pressure where his tongue presses flush against the shape of your tit, tightness whenever he chooses to nip, attempting to take the flesh and all that’s between you and him between his teeth.

Not enough, you think, even when a whimper of need bubbles out of you; you want to be closer, your thighs pressing against the sides of his. You’re close in almost every way, but you still inch yourself further forward, enough to feel the taut hardness in his jeans. Your hips settle right there, letting fabric ride against fabric as you center yourself.

No sooner do you press yourself flush against him do you gasp; the light sting sends a jolt up your spine when his teeth close around your nipple through your bra, and when you look down at him, you see the corners of his mouth pulled up in evident satisfaction. He’s quick to atone, his tongue dragging your shirt slightly upwards in his attempt to soothe, and for some reason, the push of fabric and the barely-there feeling of motion leaves you tingling.

“Mark.” Your voice comes out in a whine, but in the haze you’re in, you don’t really have a clear idea of what you’re asking for. All you know is that you want more of him, and for as much as he’s already given you in kisses and words, you aren’t even halfway down the list of everything else you wish you could demand from him. You say the only thing that comes to mind — the only thing that really encompasses what you feel. “Mark, I want you. I want more of you.”

His hands on your waist are replaced by the significant tightness of his arms, locked around your torso; you don’t even have the time to take in your awe at the fact that he can easily carry you, turn you over until you’re on your back, until he’s already eased one knee between your legs.

The way he looks down at you is a mixture of hesitation and desire, but the former’s erased when you reach out for him, murmuring another ‘more’ so you can pull him in. With one palm pressed against the mattress, he lets his free hand graze against your side again, bolder in its movements, and his fingers trace a path up to your breast, squeezing the soft flesh through layers. Your back arches upwards in response, eager for more contact, for touch that’s almost there but not quite, and he smiles when you make a noise of frustration from his fingers tweaking the soft nub of your nipple.

“Mark, please—”

“Would you really let him see you like this?” His thumb’s still idly grazing over your breast, following the rise and fall of its curve. You swallow hard, trying to keep your voice level despite the growing want that threatens to break through it. “Would you really let him watch you… get fucked?”

You shake your head, and his brow furrows.

“I’d let him watch you fuck me,” you correct him, and the confusion in his face gives way to pure satisfaction the moment you make this nuance clear. “It has to be only you.”

His grip tightens briefly against your breast again, and he leans down, pressing a surprisingly chaste and brief kiss to your lips.

“Then I’ll unlock the door next time and give him a show.”

You don’t know if it’s what he says or what he does after — his hands bunching your shirt upward until the hem’s just below your neckline — that makes your breath hitch, but you decide it doesn’t matter when you realize you’d much rather be focusing on the journey his lips take, slick against your stomach as he presses languid kisses down to your navel. His fingers hook into the waistband of your jeans, the weight naturally pulling them down, and you see his muscles tighten for a moment as he stops himself from tugging them off completely.

Mark’s mouth is unparalleled in its attentiveness, seemingly intent on making sure he’s covered every inch of your stomach in warm kisses, but you only realize he’s somehow stalling when he starts the cycle again, his nails digging into the taut elastic of your jeans as though to remind himself to curb his desire.

You take the initiative instead, raising your hips slightly to signal your want, acutely aware of the fact that you brush lightly against his thigh when you do so. His eyes lift first, followed by the rest of his face, and he’s watching you quietly. You might have thought he was unsure of what to do all of a sudden again, but his knee pressing closer, an unmistakable pressure against you, is enough to tell you that he’s only curious to know what else you’ll do.

The second time you grind against his thigh, his hands catch your hips, keeping them aloft just long enough for him to tug the band of your jeans downward; he peels them off you with surprising ease, returning to the same position between your legs, hands still firm on your waist. With that done, he only has the thin garter of your panties left to curl his fingers into, bunching it into his fists when you roll your hips up one more time. You manage a shaky noise when you feel the stark difference — the roughness of the denim against you, the stick and drag of flimsy cloth. Mark lets out a low but unmistakable hiss.

“I can’t believe—” his idea is cut short by the movement of your hips again, and his grip tightens, knuckles pressing into your skin. “Can’t believe you’re here. I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“What am I supposed to do,” you breathe out, the sound momentarily getting stuck in your throat. “So that you know it’s real?”

His fingers relax their hold, palms now pressed against your thighs; they travel between your hips and your knees, a soothing and thoughtful motion. “God — I don’t know. I just want — I just want you so badly. Like… I’m going to go crazy if I don’t have you now.”

You lean up, your weight resting on your elbow, and your other hand reaches out; Mark meets you halfway, bending just a little lower to press his cheek against your palm. There’s something intimate, something so giving about the way he turns his face to your fingers, pressing a fluttering kiss just under your thumb. The tips of your fingers trace the shape of his lips, even when they pucker again under your digits.

“Take me,” you murmur quietly. “Right now — from now on, every part of me is all for you.”

His exhale is shaky, but his fingers have a sureness to them; they slip under your thighs, cradling the backs of your knees, and lifting until they’re folded over your chest. You don’t even have the time to wonder if you should feel exposed all of a sudden; his breath warms the inside of your thigh as he presses his lips there — not a kiss, just a touch as he speaks.

“I want to taste you,” he mumbles, partly distracted with the act of inhaling the mild scent off of your skin. “Every inch of you — I want to know just how sweet you are.”

He lets his hold on your thighs relax, letting them fall apart; he busies his hands with your panties instead, hooking a finger into the strip of cloth just covering you. It’s clear you’re both aware that the fabric sticks light to your skin, poorly masking your wetness, and interest mingled with hunger flashes across his face as he pulls it aside.

“You’re so pretty,” he says, sounding like it’s a comment more for himself than anything else. His gaze flickers to you for a moment before it moves back to your pussy. “The prettiest fucking girl in the world.”

The pressure of his thumb between your folds causes you to forget what you wanted to say, and you know Mark had been nervous, but you realize that it doesn’t mean he’s supremely inexperienced by any means; there’s a quiet, understated confidence in the way he rubs slow, thorough circles, moving upward towards your clit. Your face, your neck, your whole torso feels flushed, but you power through the instinct to tilt your head back so that you can keep watching him — the minute changes in his expression, the slowly building strength in his touch.

“I want to taste you,” he repeats, looking up at you. “I want to know what you taste like when you cum against my mouth.”

You’re not sure if you’re gawking because you can hardly believe Mark Lee — your eternally blushing, mild mannered campus crush — had said all those words strung together into such a lewd sentence, but you’re sure as hell not going to deny him. Your hand travels down your torso, and he watches, curious at first, then awestruck when your index and forefinger settle against either side of your folds, pulling them apart in offering.

His eyes end up transfixed on your pussy again, observing how your fingers ease your folds further apart the more he massages his thumb against your slit. His mouth is slightly agape, intent on drinking in the sight, unaware that you’re trying to memorize this view of him too — Mark Lee, touching you, wanting you, eager to take you fully.

“I’ve always wanted to see what it’d look like with your face between my legs,” you say in a hushed tone, but he catches it anyway, briefly looking up at you again. “I’ve always wanted to know what your tongue would feel like against my pussy.”

Your index finger bumps against the tip of his thumb, and he stops its motions, allowing you to move his digit down until the pad of it hovers just in front of your tiny hole. You can see one cheek tucked between his teeth, bitten to muffle the groan you wish you’d heard louder.

“Won’t you show me?”

You think you hear him rasp out a ‘fuck yes’ before he bends down, pressing his half-open mouth against your pussy. The squeal of delight that leaves you is half-strangled as his thumb curls, hooking into your entrance. It starts a shallow, distracted motion, with his attention funneled much more clearly into keeping his tongue working. Flush against your slit, it drags up, and he releases a guttural noise at your taste, lips pursing slightly on the way back down — like he can’t stand not trapping every drop of wetness with his mouth.

The intensity of his tongue, the idle thrusting of his thumb — you’re not sure what you want to focus on more, and the result is you whimpering incoherently at the starkly contrasting combination of the two. Mark moves his mouth like he’s never tasted anything as good in his life; the sounds between your thighs are wet, sloppy — almost embarrassingly so — but you don’t have the presence of mind to dwell on that because Mark Lee is eating you out and that’s really all that you can think of.

The tip of his tongue suddenly flicks upwards; you keen, long and low, when it starts to circle your clit in that same intense, circular movement his thumb had gotten you used to. Your sensitivity skyrockets, and you’re completely unable to control the upward bucking of your hips, but Mark stays supremely unperturbed, his free arm winding under your thigh to keep the both of you steady. Your noises are growing embarrassingly loud, and you realize just how needy you’ve become when you vaguely notice that there’s a pattern in what you’re saying — his name, over and over again.

“Did you do that too?” He asks softly, his words slightly muffled against you. “Say my name, I mean — when you thought of me.”

“God, yes.” Your voice comes out strained, teetering on the edge of slurring. “So many times — every single fucking time.”

“Promise me something.” He lifts his head, and you see a fieriness in his gaze.

You nod — at this rate, whatever he’d ask you to do, you would without question. “Anything.”

His thumb presses in deeper, up to his knuckle and you reflexively tighten around his digit, but he keeps it anchored there, pushing down against your walls. He drinks in your gasp, the widening of your eyes, the way you chew on your lip with a singular kind of contentment on his face.

“Promise me — from now on, you’ll make sure I’m always there to hear it.”

The only kind of assent you’re able to make is a moan as he dives down again, mouth buried in your warmth, his nose pressed tight against your clit. His tongue moves in strong strokes, broad swipes that push your folds apart further, and his thumb, while not moving, increases in pressure to the point that you feel a heaviness adding to the growing pleasure. Your hands fly down, seeking some kind of sense and reason, and you thread your fingers into his hair, grip tightening as your climax builds in stride.

“Mark, I’m—” close, you want to say, embarrassingly so, but the moment he hears his name, his lips attach to your clit, and there’s suddenly so much more pressure as he sucks, almost like he’s desperate to draw out your orgasm. He chooses this of all time to start moving his thumb again, and this time, his movements are anything but slow and idle; they’re filled with the intent to drive you over the edge. “Fuck me, oh my god—”

“I want to,” he murmurs, pausing for just a moment to drag the tip of his tongue around the nub. “God, I want to. Let me see you cum first; let me taste how sweet you are.”

His thumb stops, buries deep into your pussy, and you’re not sure why this, of all things, is what pushes you beyond control; you’re only half-sure you say his name when your orgasm hits, the rest of your consciousness much too clouded by pleasure. He doesn’t stop, revels in the way you squirm under him as he hums low and keeps his tongue working against your clit. His licks become longer, more thorough as you come down from your high, your cries softening into whimpers as his tongue both attempts to clean you up and makes you messier in the process. His arm is still curled around your thigh, keeping you from inching away from him, even if instinct and stimulation are telling you to.

You’re barely lucid when you sit up, and Mark inches back, somewhat startled; you grab the front of his shirt, and the sight of his mouth, slick and glistening from your wetness, only makes you more curious to know what you taste like on him. You find out how tangy it is, how rich the two of you are together on his lips, and you’re able to fully appreciate the skill of the mouth that kisses you deeply, leaving traces of you against your tongue and teeth.

“Please — fuck me.” It’s the only thing you can say at this rate, only half-coherent and still trembling with desire, but Mark doesn’t seem to care that you’re stuttering over such a simple request. His thumb wipes traces of saliva off the corner of your mouth, kisses it clean for good measure, then straightens up, his hands working at his belt. You almost miss the fact that his hands are shaking slightly as he undoes the buckle and tugs it out from the loops.

You want to help — it’s the least you can do, after all, and your fingers push the button of his jeans out through the hole, his hands working in tandem to tug the zipper down. However, your movements falter when you hear a noise from just outside the room — the sound of the doorknob being jangled, the thud of a body gently hitting the door, as though worried it’s stuck. You glance up at Mark, ready to reassure him, but he either hadn’t heard or doesn’t care because he’s too busy stepping out from the pool of denim at his ankles, and you get completely sidetracked by the bulge straining against his boxers.

You almost ignore Youngho’s voice grumbling ‘Jesus Christ, now of all times? from behind the door, but you leverage it instead.

“Should we let him in?” You ask, tone innocent despite the evident deviousness in your words. It pays off, though; Mark’s cock twitches unmistakably under thin fabric, and he actually looks like he’s considering it. “You’re just about to fuck me, after all. Weren’t we going to — what did you say? Put on a show?”

He worries on his bottom lip, like he’s unsure if you’re serious, but in the end, he shakes his head, reaching out to smooth your hair away from your face and ushering you to lay back down. The lips that meet your forehead are gentle, almost apologetic.

“Not now,” he murmurs against your skin. “Right now, you’re all mine.”

You laugh lightly, nodding, and he chuckles too, but the sound of it slowly dies down when your finger hooks into the garter of his boxers. You can feel his breathing hitch as you tug it down, the elastic catching when it meets the shape of his cock, but you don’t make any move to free it just yet — for some reason, you want to see him do it.

“Show me.”

He complies without hesitation, one hand dragging the elastic down over his thighs, the other curling around the base of his length, and your face flushes as satisfaction works through your system at the bare sight of him.

Mark Lee is big — not monstrously so, but enough for you to make a pleased noise as your hand joins his, fingers barely wrapping around his girth. You give his shaft a gentle squeeze, and his exhale stutters, watching you stroke him, long and thorough in your movements. Your palm swipes over the tip, leaking precum, allowing it to slick up your hand enough to keep your movements smooth. You’re fixated on the tension in his lips, the throb of his cock against your palm, and the way his gaze never leaves your face, like a small, amazed part of him still can’t believe what you’re doing, even if you’re both half-naked already.

“I want to suck you off,” you plead, grip tightening slightly. He grits his teeth, stifling another groan, but he shakes his head clearly enough for you to slow your movements in mild surprise.

“Can’t — not now. I need to be in you so badly.” His breathing’s sharp and heavy, like he’s trying to keep himself in check. “You don’t even know — how long I’ve wanted to feel you.”

Your hold relaxes, and you let him maneuver you, his renewed hold on your hips dragging you closer to the edge of the bed. In this position, he can spread your thighs further, and you angle yourself optimally — enough for him to get a full view of your pussy, wet and still aching from your last orgasm.

“You don’t know how badly I’ve wanted to know how tight you are,” he continues, and there’s a faraway look in his eyes that makes you think he might be entrenched in fantasy. “How much I would have killed to see you — have you like this. I’m not gonna be able to wait anymore.”

His fingers dig into your sides, thumbs stroking your stomach in a weak pattern. The underside of his shaft presses against your folds, still half obscured by your panties, in a way that’s heavy enough to make you mewl, your hips reacting before your mind can, and he hisses softly as he feels his length glide along your slit before you relax your stance again.

“I can’t wait,” he reiterates, a breaking in his voice that sounds almost tortured. You don’t want him to either, want to see him buried to the hilt inside you, and you raise your hips again in need. “I want you so much it’s driving me crazy.”

“Then take me.”

And you’re not sure if it’s a demand or a plea, but he no longer stops himself; his hand fists his cock a few times, coating the slick of precum along his length before he lines the tip up with your entrance. His other hand’s flush against the inside of your thigh, a light pressure ensuring he always has enough space to fit himself between your legs — enough space to bottom out completely.

Mark’s considerate in his pace — maybe he knows he’s big, or maybe he’s just naturally careful, but he allows you the time to adjust to the stretch. Your nails almost puncture holes into the sheets, your grip so tight you wonder if it’s just to brace yourself or to hang onto the last threads of your sanity. He’s only halfway in, but you’re pushing fullness already, and he stops when his cock meets slight resistance, looking up at you in concern.

“You’re not—?”

“It doesn’t hurt,” you reassure him softly, and it’s true; the adjustment brings about slight discomfort, but it’s almost nothing to you — not compared to how much more you want. “Give me everything; I want all of you inside me.”

He pauses still, trying to read your expression for any lies, but when he can’t find any, he nods, his jaw tensing as he presses both palms against your thighs, keeping you open as much as possible to accommodate him. He doesn’t even stop when you whimper, feeling a tightening twitch in your pussy that also causes him to groan, until inch by inch, you’ve taken him, his hips flush against yours.

He doesn’t move — not yet, his eyes trained to where you’re connected like he’s once again unable to believe what he’s doing. You hear him mumble something to himself that you want to hear too; you squirm slightly, and he hisses through his teeth, looking up at you and finding the questioning in your face. He offers you a small smile, albeit somewhat strained.

“You’re tighter than I thought.”

“You’re bigger than I thought,” you hum, and neither of you is really to blame; the tight fit, the slight breathlessness it leaves you with, is perfect, you think — just what the both of you need. “Did you often think about fucking me?”

“Probably just as often as you’re making it sound like you thought about having me fuck you, I think.”

“Don’t get cocky,” you warn, but there’s no real heat in your voice.

“I won’t. But it makes me feel good — knowing you wanted me just as bad.”

“I still do.” Your gaze is lazy, a little hazy, even if you’re anticipating so much. Even just the feeling of Mark, throbbing inside you, is already slowly building the pleasure in your stomach again; you wonder if you could cum like this, given enough time, given enough patience. “I’m still waiting for you to fuck me. God, Mark— please.”

He chuckles good-naturedly, but even that’s drowned out by the long moan that leaves you once he draws his hips back; your body’s mildly shocked into a new adjustment, feeling a sudden emptiness that’s quickly mitigated by him filling you back up again. The pace is slow, almost torturous, although you know he isn’t doing it to get a rise out of you. He wants to ease you into speed, careful to help you adjust fully; his restraint in his movements is all the more evident on his face, in the furrowing of his brow and the determination in his gaze. Even with that, he can’t help what he says, so intent on controlling everything else he does that he lets his words spill out over your noises.

“Pretty,” he grunts out, and when your walls twitch around him, he accidentally thrusts sharper — just enough for you to whimper a little more loudly, and he has to reel his strength back again. “God, you’re beautiful. I should’ve told you sooner how much I wanted you. All those times I had to imagine you wrapped around me like this, wondering how much tighter you’d get once you came on my cock. All those times you drove me crazy while I was alone, when I could have been in you— I could have found out how good you felt. How pretty you’d look under me. And you’re still even prettier, even better than I ever dreamed.”

There’s an erratic melody of moans under his words, spilling from your mouth, and the fact that he riles himself up enough to increase his speed slightly doesn’t escape you. He’s a little less careful now, seemingly entranced by the view he gets, watching his shaft disappear into you only to come out glistening, and a part of you hates the idea of snapping out of his reverie, but the majority of your thoughts now lean towards wondering how much more you can get him to break free of his own self-imposed restrictions.

“I wanted to ask you so many times.” His eyes snap up, coming back into focus as he takes in the sight of you, flushed, hair tousled, gaze darkened. “Almost every day — I sat there, thinking about how all I could do was go home and fuck myself, frustrated you weren’t doing it for me. I should have taken you home with me right then and there — should have let you watch me touch myself thinking of you, should have let you touch me into cumming on your fingers.”

His breathing staggers as he leans in, eager to see you clearer, to hear your words, slowly becoming airier as they come out. For a moment, his gaze falls, torn between watching him move into you and meeting your eyes, but he ultimately chooses the latter once you speak up again, your tone even more hushed than before — like it’s meant to be a secret between just you and him.

“But there were times I wanted you even more than that, to the point that I almost felt like I couldn’t wait.” His eyes widen slightly, a few precious seconds of wondering if he understands what you mean, right before you confirm what he thinks. “I thought about making a move right then — I should have kissed you. I should have asked you.”

“Asked me what?” His voice is gruff with the effort to keep himself in check despite the fact that it’s clear to the both of you that it won’t last.

Your lazy smile’s illusionary; it hides the triumph swelling in your chest at knowing that he asked exactly what you hoped him to.

“I should have asked you to fuck me in front of everyone there.”

“God,” his eyes squeeze shut, his grip tightening. “Please. I can’t—”

“I should have bent over for you there, begged you to stretch me out right after our session,” you continue, bordering on merciless. “Mark, you don’t know — how badly I wanted to be on your lap, your cock in me, with everyone watching. How much I wanted you to fold me over that table, have people watch you pound me, have them listen to how good you make me feel. No one would ever even wonder; everyone would know I’m yours.”

You pause, allowing his eyes to fly open once again, and there’s a pleading in them that’s begging for release. Your eyes soften along with your voice, but you’re this far gone; you should at least see it through.

“And everyone would know you’re mine too.”

“Fuck,” he growls, and his hips stutter before new resolve fills him, his hips driving into you with the force of a strength you didn’t even know he had in him; your thighs tremble at the intensity, at the renewed impact, and feeling him drive his cock deeper into you has you crying out somewhere between a moan and a sob. “Fuck, _________. If I had known you’d thought about me like that — God.”

It’s your turn to shut your eyes for a while, allowing yourself to focus on his movements, breaching your tightness even faster now. You feel his hands skim up your sides again, fingers digging into the fabric of your bra and pulling them down until your bare tits are cupped in his hands. You shiver as his thumbs pass over your nipples, toying them into firm nubs.

“One day,” he hums out, his voice giving way to a slight hoarseness again. “I’ll do it. I’ll fuck you in front of him — in front of Youngho, in front of everyone. I’ll let them wonder how tight you are, how fucking warm you are, and I’ll let them leave knowing no one can know but me.”

It’ll never happen, you both know, but something about agreeing to something so absurd is what has your body almost shaking in longing, and it’s what causes him to press in deeper, folding your legs closer to your torso. Your hands do what little they can to help, keeping your thighs apart so as not to obstruct his view. You can tell it’s somehow not enough, not really all of what he wants when his brow furrows, and he shifts his weight, pushing into you at a new angle.

The stark difference has you gasping before you can control it. Immediately, Mark stops, and you’re already shaking your head before you even hear him say anything, presuming he’s paused out of concern. But before you can say you’re fine, his hushed voice cuts through the silence.

“Do that again.”

“What?”

“Do it again,” he mumbles, sounding distant. “Breathe in. Suck in your stomach.”

You’re not one to complain at such a simple request, albeit a little odd, so you comply, inhaling enough to tighten your torso. You’re surprised when you feel his cock twitch inside you, and you blow out the air alongside your question. “Mark, what are you—”

“I can see it,” he says in utter disbelief. “When you’re like this, I can — I can see my cock inside you. Just a bit.”

Your eyes follow his gaze, fixed just below your navel. From this angle, without any movement, you can’t see a thing, but you assume he’s not one to abandon fucking you so intently without good reason, so you press your palm against your stomach, just above your pelvis. Nothing really feels significantly out of place — up until the point when Mark draws his hips back again, and you feel the backward slide of his cock.

Your throat tightens, and you don’t really understand the feeling that spreads in you — a unique kind of arousal, knowing how deep he is inside you and how you’re taking all of him in despite the fit, because of the fit. Your hand falls away, allowing Mark’s to take its place, and he exerts just a little more pressure against your stomach in an attempt to get the most out of the experience when he thrusts back in. He groans, feeling the bulge push back up, and he quickly picks up the same pace, renewed in intensity so he can experience the rapid rise and fall he creates under his palm.

The faster he goes, the harder he presses, and you’re not sure if he knows it, but the onslaught of friction is what’s making you whine and squirm even more; you’re trapped, in the best way possible, in his hold, your hands back to clinging to the backs of your knees like a lifeline. Pressure from the outside builds on the slowly growing pressure inside, a knot in your pelvis that’s coiling so tightly you feel like you can’t breathe. If Mark notices how close you are, he doesn’t make it known; he’s busy feeling the outline of his cock against your stomach, and when he looks up at you again, his eyes are hazy.

“I would fuck you every single day, every single hour if I could feel this every time,” he whispers in a way that’s almost reverent. “Let me — I want to keep seeing you like this. I want to feel how deep I am inside you, too. Let me fuck you all the time.”

You nod, and your first attempt to say something is just another choked sob. When you do manage to get something out, it’s broken in tearful stutters. “M-Mark, I’m s— I’m so close… I’m — fuck—”

“Do it.” It’s not a harsh command but an urging made on short breath; through your misty vision, you see tension in Mark’s face and shoulders, like he’s bracing himself for something too. You barely register the ping in the back of your mind, too focused on the way he’s pressing his palm harder on your stomach, the way his hips quicken their pace — he’s close too. “Let me feel you — want to feel you cum all over my cock.”

You inhale, not to speak but to let out a loud whimper; your teeth dig into your lower lip as you try to stifle the moans that threaten to follow, but in the end, you whine out his name. Your thighs threaten to close, trembling as you finally reach your climax, an impossible explosion of pleasure, and you have to squeeze your eyes shut so that you don’t get dizzy from the stars that burst around your vision.

“Fuck.” Mark’s voice is strained, his one hand still firm against your stomach, the other sliding against the inside of your thigh. “You get even tighter — you feel even better when you cum.”

“Mark,” you hiccup, unable to do anything but flutter around him as he pistons harder into you. You don’t even know what you’re asking for when you say ‘please,’ but he somehow seems to, and you trust that your body’s saying something you can’t fully detect in this state, with your mind floating in the aftermath of ecstasy.

“I know,” his tone is soothing in contrast to the intensity of his thrusts. “I’ve got you. Just a little more — where do you want—?”

You blink slowly, his words sinking in at too leisurely a pace; his hips stutter dangerously before you’re able to respond. You barely even do that, your hand gently brushing over the one against your stomach, but he catches onto the meaning quickly enough.

You’ve never heard your name said in such a beautiful way; hearing him moaning it lowly is enough to make you whine again, and that noise is drawn out when he shifts and slips out of you fully. Your brain’s fuzzy, but your senses are at least sharp enough to drink in the perfect sight of him cumming — the way he leans his head back, jaw taut and eyes shut, as he pumps his cock and the heat of his release against your skin, pooling against your stomach once he finally cums. You see a shiver run through him, and then he’s still for a while in this position, the both of you basking in the afterglow of your highs.

You’re still weak and sensitive when Mark finally comes back down, a lucidity you don’t have right now coming back into his gaze. All you can do is smile when he leans in, catching your lips in another kiss — one that’s surprisingly soft and slow in comparison to everything else, but still leaves you breathless when he pulls away.

“Let me clean you up,” he murmurs, and you hum in agreement, your body limp as you watch him move off the bed and pull a handful of tissues from a box on the desk on the opposite wall. Even his hands are gentle when he scoops you up, shifting you until your head can lean against the pillows. They carry a scent you’re not used to, and your nose scrunches, rejecting the change, but that’s quickly overpowered by Mark’s familiar coffee-and-linen one when he presses next to you, careful as he wipes his cum off your stomach and thoroughly cleans between your thighs. From somewhere down below, you still hear hushed voices, and the front door slams shut again. People are still in the middle of leaving, but you know Youngho will likely run out of guests soon, and this makes you feel like the timing’s suddenly become urgent.

“I want to date you properly,” you start, slightly slurred but unmistakably blunt. Mark’s gaze snaps to yours, slightly amused, as he balls the tissues up in his fist. “You never asked me, so I’m asking you.”

He looks perplexed. “I just never thought you wanted me to, so I didn’t try.”

You reach up, locking your fingers into his hair and using your grip to pull him down. Your kiss is a little demanding, with a tinge of excess frustration, and he pulls away laughing lightly.

“Do you still think I don’t want you to?”

Mark hums thoughtfully. “I think you made a lot of things clear tonight. On my end, I was happy enough to be near you.” He smiles down at you, and in the faint light, you can see the flush slowly return to his cheeks. “Having you like this — dating you… there’s no way I’d say no.”

Your shoulders relax, satisfied with his answer, and you beam up at him — an act he easily returns, breathtaking and endearing all at once.

Moments later, you feel his arm wind around your waist; he allows you to lean into his side, his other hand crossing over his lap to stroke your thigh. His face turns, pressing a kiss to your hair, and you feel his lips move, hear the quick rush of a whisper. You tilt your head, eyes slightly wide in questioning. “What was that?”

He shakes his head at first, trying to pass it off as nothing. But when it’s clear your curiosity won’t abate, he chuckles softly, his hand gently cupping your chin so that you can only look at him. His thumb strokes your bottom lip gently, as if trying to coax the same words out of your mouth before he murmurs them to you one more time — and this time, he sounds fully convinced of them.

“You’re all mine.”

[moonstruckme]

could i request poly!marauders with reader who has trouble sleeping/insomnia pls? it’s so frustrating not being able to sleep and seeing everyone sleeping and then having a raging head and being exhausted throughout the days,,, just want someone to make the nights a little less stressful :((

Sorry for the long wait sweetness! Thanks for requesting

modern au

poly!marauderes x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

You want desperately to know what time it is. With the blackout curtains covering the windows and the digital clock stowed away in the drawer of the nightstand, it’s impossible to guess whether the sun is rising outside or if it’s only an hour past when you went to bed. You honestly have no idea. It feels like you’ve been lying here for an eternity, willing yourself to relax, but in your experience it’s equally likely that ten minutes have gone by. 

It’s that much worse with your boyfriends snoozing all around you. You envy Sirius’ open-mouthed snore. You feel trapped. You want to be sleeping with them but you can’t, so you want them to be awake with you, but waking them would be cruel. When you’d first gone to bed James had held you up against him, but it hadn’t taken long after he’d fallen asleep for him to roll over, unconsciously abandoning you between his and Remus’ backsides. Remus is a light enough sleeper that you know he’ll wake if you try to get out of bed, so you’re stuck here, staring into the formless black of your room, not knowing how much longer you have to endure it. 

Eventually you sit up on your elbow, reaching over Remus to check the time on your phone. Your hand is arrested just above the nightstand. 

“What,” Remus’ voice is croaky. “What’re you doing?” 

You don’t answer, knowing an honest one will only earn you a scolding. Remus rolls over and takes you hand with him. You can just barely see the outline of his head in the darkness, but you can feel his warm breath fanning across your face. 

“You know it’s only going to make things worse,” he says quietly. 

“It's worse not knowing,” you whisper. 

Remus sighs, rubbing his thumb into the meat of your palm. Some of your apprehension eases just from having him awake with you. “I’m sorry, sweet girl.” His voice is barely a murmur, but you can feel James starting to stir at your back. “I still think we have to try what the doctor said for now, okay?” 

He pushes his warm palm flat against yours, coaxing a small “okay” out of you. 

“I can stay up with you.” 

“No,” you say, despite the selfish voice in your head going Yes!. Remus needs more sleep than the rest of you to begin with, and you’re more accustomed to going without it than he is. “That’s okay, you should sleep.” 

You’re bracing yourself for his denial when James rolls over behind you, one big arm wrapping around your front. 

“Hey,” he slurs, “where’d you go?” 

You smother a laugh and Remus makes a similarly amused sound, likely guessing what had really happened. He reaches the hand not holding yours over your head to pet James’ hair. 

“I didn’t go anywhere,” you say softly. 

“Stay put this time, hm?” James replies fondly, giving your middle a squeeze. “Y’supposed to be on cuddle duty.” 

This time you can’t suppress it, and a little giggle escapes you. “Sorry,” you say. 

Remus hums in gentled remonstrance, you’re not sure at whom. 

“You’re all being terribly loud,” Sirius groans, and then there’s a shape leering over James’ head, doubtlessly glowering down at the three of you. “Why are we awake?”

“Someone couldn’t sleep,” Remus murmurs. 

Sirius makes a whiny pitying sound, reaching over James to paw blindly at you. You inhale when his perpetually freezing fingers fumble at your collarbone. James saves you, clasping Sirius’ hand in his own. 

“What else is new,” you try to joke. It comes out sounding more glum than you’d like. “Sorry I woke you guys.” 

“No, don’t be, angel.” James’ hand finds its way underneath your sleep shirt, thumb stroking the skin just above your navel. “We’d rather be awake with you anyway.” 

Sirius makes a sound like he could disagree, but his slender fingers burrow into your hair, scratching lightly at your scalp the way he knows you like. You bear the cold for his sake. 

“There’s no point in us all being awake,” you say, though you’re nearly purring from all the loving. “S’not your problem.” 

Sirius tsks. “We���ve been over this, doll. Your problems are ours, too.” 

You hum like Yeah, I know. Sirius takes in a breath like he might say more, but Remus comes to your rescue. 

“Do you want one of us to rub your back, dove?” 

That sounds amazing, actually. But you’re not sure if it’ll help, and you don’t want to put your boyfriends to work if there’s no promise it’ll do anything. “That’s okay,” you say. 

“No, come on.” James is already turning you in his arms. He cozies up to your front, big palm splayed out over your back. “We’re supposed to get you relaxed, right?” 

You nod, and his chest feels warm against your cheek. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep, though.” 

“That’s okay,” he replies readily. “Let’s just give it a try, yeah?”

You hum, acquiescence inlaid with guilt. From behind James, you hear Sirius chide you quietly (“Stop that”) and you know he’s heard it. James likely does too, but he ignores it, big palm beginning to move in broad, slow circles on your back. You try to help as best you can, relaxing into his hold and shutting your eyes. Even so, you grow tenser with frustration the longer it doesn’t work. 

“Breathe, sweetheart,” Remus murmurs behind you. His words brush over your nape like a caress. “Relax. Listen to his heartbeat.” 

You nestle your face closer to James’ chest, and he increases the pressure on your back as if to keep you there. You can hear the steady bump-bump of his heart as well as feel it against your cheek, and something about it has a tranquilizing effect on your own. It creates a beat to match the rhythm of his hand gliding along your back, steady and unwavering. You can hear your own breathing matching up to his, Remus’ too. Distantly, you become aware that Sirius is snoring again, but the thought dissipates half-formed. Your limbs feel warm and soft as wax. 

You don’t notice James moving until his lips come down on the top of your head, his palm still wearing its same track into your back. “Love you,” he says. 

You think you echo the sentiment, but you’re too far gone to know for sure.

[midday-clouds]

Yandere Batfamily x Neglected & "Immortal" Reader 》 II

Part I

Thank you so much for the love for the first one! 💞 There are so many ways I can imagine how this story can go and it's hard to pick one or try merging all the ideas. Nonetheless, I hope this meets your expectations!

CW: Stalking, Breaking and entering, Violence(Being stabbed, beating up a thief), Blood, (Menstion of past) Kidnapping

You had officially moved into your apartment in Bludhaven

Everything has moved so quickly and now you can finally relax

You gave up connecting with your family, got kidnapped, died, came back to life and moved out

It may be a bit much to pick the farthest college from the manor but you’re clearly unwanted there

Your family has neglected you and didn't do anything when you were kidnapped, so you have every right to be as far away from them as possible

It was honestly quite lucky that you were already accepted into a college in Bludhaven during your senior year. If you had applied after your kidnapping, the chances of you getting in would have been low.

But you’re here now and can finally feel happy. Well, if you don't count some of the nightmares you get from when you “died”.

Sometimes you do wonder how you survived that gunshot. Were you not hit somewhere vital? But then, where was the hole?

A part of you was curious and wanted to replicate the injury but that would be painful. You surviving the gunshot also could have been a one-time thing

You never ended up going to the police or the hospital because what were they going to do? You don’t have any proof that it even happened because your injury is gone, the blood left at the abandoned building is likely dried up and doesn’t look fresh, and Bruce probably threw away the ransom letter. 

The only proof you have that it even happened is your memories and you telling your friends. But the police or doctors would just look at you and say “You look fine now, no need to look into the situation anymore.” 

But enough about that though, you’ve got a few more hours before it gets dark and you want to get to know about the area.

It is still the middle of summer so your college classes haven't started yet. You could have waited until class started to move but you wanted to be out before Alfred returned from his vacation.

Alfred was the closest thing to family in the manor. But he and Bruce have never felt like safe adults to share your problems with. 

He should be back from his vacation now, has he found out about your kidnapping or did Bruce cover it up? He probably did to avoid getting news out. You should probably look into how you can change your surname.

Just as you finish your thoughts about the manor, you use your laptop to find interesting places in the area before heading out the door with directions in a notebook

Bruce and the rest of the family may know where you are currently, but bringing you back home was the hard part. Alfred had to convince Bruce that if he wanted you back, he shouldn’t just barge in all of a sudden. 

You’ve been hurt by the family's actions and won't return without a fight. 

But even then, Bruce has to see you. The entire family needs to see you with their own eyes at least once.

With this in mind, the whole family decides to take a small road trip to Bludhaven. They’d find you and figure out the best way to approach you without scaring you off. 

It was almost sundown when the family got to Bludhaven. They change into their vigilante gear so it’d be easier to hide in the shadows

Tim loads up the tracker on your phone and leads the way. It seems the tracker you have isn't the best because once the family gets close to your apartment, your phone just says your laptop is nearby instead of its exact location. 

No problem though, Tim can easily hack into the computer system for the apartment and find which room is yours.

Once your room is found, the family takes a peek inside. You’re nowhere to be found, which is a little worrying.

The locks on your windows are broken as the family opens them and sneaks inside. Your living room and kitchen are littered with boxes but that’s it. They each take a look around to find you but come out empty-handed. If you were here, they may do exactly what Alfred discouraged and just take you home. However, because you aren’t home, the only other place you could be is outside. Where it’s dark out and you’re alone.

Worried for your safety, the family immediately goes on another search for your

Because you could be anywhere, the family decides to split up to find you

You look around as you walk back to your apartment, a few small bags of food and snacks in your hands. Because it’s getting dark, you do begin to pick up the pace. You’re so focused on not getting home that you don’t notice when a person peeks over at you from a rooftop.

You’re just about to pass a convenience store when someone runs out and knocks into you. The person curses as they quickly get up and reach for their bag of stolen goods. Filled with adrenaline, the thief takes out a knife and stabs you. They were aiming to kill you so there weren’t any witnesses but ended up putting the knife in your shoulder. As the thief makes a run for it, a certain vigilante quickly blocks their path

Nightwing goes full force on the thief. How dare they hurt his baby bird. He refuses to make the same mistake of leaving you alone and hurt.

Your heart is racing as you attempt to pull the knife out of your shoulder. Your eyelids feel weak but you refuse to fall asleep. Unlike before, you aren’t restrained and can still escape.

You pull the knife out and let it fall on the ground next to you. After a few breaths, you do your best to stand up. You take a small glance at Nightwing before quickly running back to your apartment. 

Once inside, you almost collapse on the floor but try to get your first aid kit.

Your bandaging may not be that good but the best but it’s enough for you to feel comfortable sleeping for the night

Nightwing sighs as he handcuffs the thief. He went a lot harder than he expected but how can you blame him? His family was in danger and he needed to do everything to make sure it doesn’t happen again

The vigilante turns to where you were but only finds a bloodied knife and the bags you left behind. He carefully picks up the bags and knife while he considers where you have gone.

Spotting a trail of blood, Nightwing quickly follows it, contacting the rest of the family as well

The family gathers at the same spot near your apartment and finds you sleeping in your bed. Wanting to help you, Nightwing comes up with an idea

You lay on your bed, waiting for sleep to consume you when a knock comes from your door. You try to ignore it but the knocking continues. The only thing that gets you up is the realization that the knocking is too loud to be from your door. Opening your eyes, you realize that someone is at your window. 

Getting up, you pick up your pepper spray as you slowly walk towards the window. You have your curtains closed so you try to peek past them to see who is there

Who you see is Nightwing and it gets you worried. Does he think you were involved with that other person? He must have seen that the thief stabbed you at least

Not wanting to make the vigilant wait, you open your window slightly. Only enough so you can hear what Nightwing has to say

Nightwing happily greets you and shows you the bag of items that you left behind when leaving the scene.

Surprised, you thank Nightwing and open the window. Making sure to not open the window more than necessary, just enough to collect the bags

Just as you reach for it, the vigilante points out your bandaged shoulder. He goes on to say the importance of properly handling injuries and offers to rebandage your arm.

It takes you a couple of moments before you agree to his help.

Like a big brother, he sits you down and redoes the bandages. Honestly, it makes you wish your actual big brothers would care for you in this way. Even though one of them is right in front of you

Once your shoulder has properly been bandaged, you thank Nightwing for his help. He offers to stay the night but you tell him that you’d be fine. Plus, doesn’t he still have to take care of Bludhaven

You make sure to close and lock your window once Nightwing leaves before going back to bed.  As sleep consumes you, your whole family watches from a distance. You didn’t seem to recognize Dick as Nightwing so it may be possible to get you to trust them before taking you home

[landograndprix]

╰┈➤ ❝ desire • l.n c.l ❞

part one - part ii

➪ Charles hasn't paid much attention to you after your daughter was born but a certain Brit does.

➪ Everything seems to be going right and life seems amazing, at least to the others..not for you.

➪ established relationship mom!reader x dad!Charles x lando

➪ this came to me as I was running a high fever, stop judging me..i also needed a charles fic here, No lando in this one yet, Charles ain't a real good partner and google translate is my bestest friend

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charlesgirlies

liked by 456 others

charlesgirlies Charles and Zoë in y/n's story today 🥰

view all 189 comment

cahlossainz oh

chilisainz oh my god I'm dead 😭

↳ bott_ass bestie same

charles16 she needs to keep feeding us dad Charles please!!

leclerc_16 volunteering to be his baby mama

lanlan Zoë is just the cutest little bean 🥰

↳ charlesgirlies she is! 🥰

lanlan lil cutie like her mom :)

charlesgirlies and her dad!

charloslesainz y/n living my dream life 😭

landoscar I just know zoë has Charles wrapped around her finger

yukisan didn't know y/n and charles were together let alone have a kid 😂

↳ clsixteen have you been living under a rock? It was a big scandal when they were seen together 5 years ago?? 😭

yukisan I'm new so i dont have all the lore, just thought they were friends because they both come from Monaco 😅

leckerkcharles y/n the predator and her victims

mrsleclerc love that there's still people in the comments being mad about them dating 💀

↳ carlandooo for real it's been 5 years people and charles is not little sauber Charles anymore 🤡

charlesgirlies people be acting like y/n is 40 years older than charles

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y/nusername

📍 Sicily, italy

liked by charles_leclerc, noellepicard and 369,989 others

y/nusername babes big day out 🏖

tagged: noellepicard, manon_roux

view all 1,111 comments

noellepicard she's a little mermaid 🧜🏻‍♀️

charlesssss I can't, she's the cutest 😭

charles_leclerc princesse ❤️

↳ charloslesainz stop it, he's such a girl dad imma throw up

hamilt44n man is made to be a dad honestly

manon_roux lucky to have the prettiest girls in the world with me 🥰

↳ joris__trouche je n'ai pas reçu mon invitation? (i didn't get my invite)

y/nusername probablement parce que je n'en ai pas envoyé :) (probably because i didn't send one)

joris__trouche comportement inacceptable (unacceptable behaviour)

charles_leclerc Joris est une des filles maintenant 😂 (joris is one of the girls now)

y/nusername Je devrais lui acheter une mini-jupe et des talons hauts pour nos prochaines vacances :') (should buy him a mini skirt and some high heels for our next vacation)

manon_roux j'aimerais voir cela se produire 🤣 (i'd love to see that happen)

joris__trouche j'aurais l'air sexy et tu ne peux pas le nier (i'd look sexy and you can't deny it)

sharl16 no idea what they're saying but I agree 😭

landoscar her little feeties 🥺

leclerc_16 am I the only one who finds it strange that they haven't been together this summer break?

↳ carlosleclerc they were bestie, they spend time together with friends in Monaco last week..they're both on their girls and boys vacation..pretty normal

leclerc_16 oh I've missed that part..still something feels off

carlosleclerc I mean y/n gave birth to their daughter not that long ago and its probably not the best idea to fly with a new born/baby all around the world. I'm sure they're fine..

leclerc_16 mmm you're probably right, would hate to see them split up though

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y/nusername posted to their story

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y/nusername

📍 Monte-Carlo, Monaco

liked by arthur_leclerc, pierregasly and 327,888 others

y/nusername juste toi et moi à l'infini, petite fille 💗 (just you and me to infinity, little girl.)

view all 1,222 comments

noellepicard 😍

yourmumsuser mes anges ❤️ (my angels)

charloslesainz 'just you and me' doesn't sit right with me lmfao

↳ thurthur my god it's just a caption 💀

landoscar for real they're always reaching for things

thurthur they always trying to start shit and it's getting annoying and repetitive

clsixteen never seen such a cute kid 🥰

francisca.cgomes need to meet her soon!

↳ y/nusername your always welcome!

bananaclerc cutest little bunny 🐰

manon_roux mon lapinou ❤️ (my bunny)

joris__trouche mon petit monstre ❤️ (my little monster)

↳ hamilt44n stop this kid is so loved 😭

sainzleclerc feeding the delulu fans with that caption

↳ charlesgirlies it's literally just a damn caption!!!

sainzleclerc I know but the crazy charles girlies haven't seen them together in a while and don't forget Charles hasn't mentioned zoë in a while.. things add up in their heads 🤡

charles_leclerc mes princesses ❤️

↳ y/nusername 🥰

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y/nusername posted to their story

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Everything taglist; @thomaslefteyebrow @hopefulinlove @smoothopz @honethatty12 @cixrosie @parkersmjs @ireadthensuetheauthors @celestialams @be-your-coffee-pot @heli991113 @kodzuvk @reality-is-a-con @80sloverry @bibissparkles @myescapefromthislife @lanando4 @elliegrey2803 @ravisinghs-wife @harrysdimple05 @minkyungseokie @pretty-little-bunny382728

Lando taglist: @simp-for-fictional-people @landossainz @christianpulisic10 @bored-brunette2

let me know if you want to be taken off the taglist

[genshin-obsessed]

Could I request Diluc, Kaeya, and Zhongli trying their hardest -and failing- not to cry after their wife, due to being tired and frustrated during an argument, wonders if they should get divorced because she thinks she's tying them down?

Ooh, ok, I need to sleep BUT the chance to write angst? sleep can wait! I wasn't entirely sure how to end it so I just left it like this. I'm sure this could be much, much longer but I didn't wanna make it too long, yanno? meant as a fem!reader but I don't mentions pronouns, just the term 'wife'.

▻ Kaeya

He didn't really know when the argument started. He didn't know what it was about anymore either. It was one of those arguments where the points end up getting lost and you're just yelling at one another about something completely unrelated. Honestly, you two were basically screaming at one another. But then he heard that one, awful sentence he never wanted to hear in his life.

"Why don't we just get a divorce and I won't be ruining your life anymore!?" Suddenly, the room's so eerily quiet that you finally realized what you said. Your gaze held Kaeya's and you watched as his usual cocky exterior just melt and tears fill his beautiful eyes. He slapped the back of his hand against his lips to stop but he couldn't. Your words shook him to his core and every thought in his mind was wiped away.

At some point, he didn't even register you trying to calm him down as he fell to his knees, tears flooding down his face. He didn't even register as he wrapped his arms around you in a near death grip, begging for you to stay.

He loved you, adored you, cherished you, worshipped you basically. So... wherever did you get this idea that you were tying him down? That you were ruining his life? Just where did he end up going wrong for you to have such awful thoughts?

▻ Diluc

Often talking to Diluc was something that was a little touch and go. He didn't talk much and when he did, he usually only talked enough to get the point across and that was it. Even during arguments, Diluc only spoke when he felt it was necessary. To avoid pointless yelling matches, he kept quiet until you were done.

But tonight was... different. Maybe it was a hard day for him, maybe it was something you said, maybe it was that he had a frustrating spat with Kaeya, or maybe that he was dealing with issues at the tavern... but tonight, Diluc was just as angry as you. You two were yelling so much that even the maids heard you outside of the manor. There was no end in sight.

"Then leave, Diluc! Leave me and you can be happy doing whatever you want! I won't be here to tie you down anymore and you can be a free fucking bird!" Diluc opened his mouth to retaliate but nothing came out. It was like the world stopped moving for a second. This uncomfortable pit grew in his stomach and he just knew it was bad. You thought you were tying him down? Never once did such an atrocious thought ever cross his mind. Never during an argument, never during a bad day, not once in his life.

So... why did you? Diluc didn't realize just how much he hated the silence until that moment. He hated it so much, that the tears he attempted to bury just burst out in a loud cry. Anything to stop that deafening silence.

▻ Zhongli

Zhongli was by far, the worst person to argue with. Why? He just sat there silently until you were done. Zhongli didn't argue, no. He waited, listened, then just explained his side. If it didn't work, he'd step away. But even an archon such as himself had limits. Your arguments never turned into screaming matches, at least not on his end, but sometimes they dragged on.

Today was just one such day. Even with his near impeccable memory, the man couldn't recall what happened to lead you two here. You were so upset and angry and no matter what he did, he made it worse. Truth be told, he was angry and frustrated too. It was like neither of you were listening to each other anymore.

"Well, if it's all pointless then why don't we just quit now?! Let's just get a divorce and you can go on happily without a wife to just drag you down!" That's when everything just stopped. Zhongli slowly looked away as he registered the words, feeling his chest begin to constrict.

Why... did you say that? Why would you think that? Was that his fault? You figure began to blur and he fell to his knees, desperately grabbing the dining table for support. You were at his side and tried to calm him down, desperately trying to wipe his tears but anything you said after just... didn't touch him. The awful reality of his life had his heart in a death grip and he could only listen if he got away from it.

[joonsmagicshop]

Sundress Season

Summary: The heat of the summer means you are suddenly only wearing sundresses. Short, tight, impossibly cute dresses that make Jungkook feel things. When he decides to jerk off before a beach day with you little does he know you would accidently walk in...and like what you see.

Paring: Jungkook/Reader

Word Count: 6.2K

Rating: M/18+ because smut

Tags: porn with slight plot, secret crush, friends to lovers, Jungkook is down bad, fantasizing, male masturbation, accidental voyeurism, handjob, blowjob, fingering, penetrative sex with protection, POV switch between him and reader, dirty talk, he calls her good girl at one point, slight fluff at the end, Namjoon mention cause he is my bias

Authors Note: okay so. I was about to take a nap and this idea popped into my head and I JUMPED out of bed to write it! It has been hot as hell all summer long and honestly unpopular opinion but I am ready for fall. Was gonna save this for Jungkook's birthday but oh well!

Also this was loosely inspired by a One Direction fic I read over ten years ago. While the fic is gone it is definitely not forgotten

Jungkook was someone who liked the summer months.

He liked the longer brighter days, the food eaten from a barbeque, bonfires with friends, and all the fun events that happen over the summer.

It was prime time for everyone to get out and do things before the harsh dull winter arrived.

However, this summer was different because by the time August rolled around Jungkook was just….over it.

He chalked it up to a lot of things.

The fact he didn’t get a proper haircut before the summer started, so he spent the whole time with a hair tie around his wrist to tie his hair back from his sweaty neck.

The fact he had a song coming out at the end of August that he still wasn’t completely sure about so he spent most of his days either working on it in his studio or from the comfort of his own home.

Or maybe it was the fact almost all summer long the weather had been very hot and very humid, making his clothes stick to his skin the second he walked out the door and making it almost impossible to actually enjoy going out and doing anything.

Jungkook sighed as he crossed another day off his calendar that hung on the wall in his home office counting down the days until August was over.

Sure the start of September was his birthday and he was excited for that but he was mostly getting excited about the prospect of cooler weather and no more daunting deadlines hanging over his head like an angry raincloud.

As his best friend, you could tell Jungkook wasn’t enjoying this summer. His usual free-spirited nature seemed to be crushed by the weight of his work and also the humidity, which seemed to linger no matter how many summer rainstorms blew through.

So you had texted him a week ago asking if he wanted to have a beach day with you today.

You assured him all he had to do was drive and grab beach umbrellas and you would take care of the rest for him, making the food and grabbing a cooler full of drinks.

Jungkook was ecstatic at the idea and made sure to work extra hard this past week to give himself a day off to spend with you.

However, that did pose another problem for Jungkook as he left his home office to head back to his bedroom to make sure his beach bag was packed.

Sunscreen, towel, extra towel in case, his goggles for when he swam, his phone, a book Namjoon had told him he should read even though it had been three months since it had been loaned out to Jungkook and he still had not even opened it, a notebook and a pen in case a song idea came to him, headphones, sunglasses and lastly some of his favorite chips he was packing just in case.

While he was all packed and ready to go, there was still a big problem he was dealing with.

How was he supposed to deal with being around you while you were dressed in one of your many sundresses?

Somewhere online had dubbed it a “sundress summer” due to the humidity and the trend took off instantly. It seemed like everywhere he went girls were wearing these short cute sundresses because in their words it was too hot to wear pants.

You usually were not a trend follower as you opted to choose your own style but this was a trend you could get behind, and soon enough Jungkook found you wearing sundresses almost every day.

Soft blue ones with little bows on the straps, bright red ones with white flowers, and even some strapless ones that nearly made his eyes pop out of his head at the sight.

He genuinely didn’t think he would survive this summer if you kept up with this, especially since most of the sundresses were short and had a habit of billowing in the breeze making you grab the skirt and giggle.

The other big problem was you had no idea the turmoil Jungkook had been in all summer long.

You both were friends, growing up across the street from each other and hanging out almost every day. You went to the same grade school, and the same high school, and were inseparable. You supported his dreams of being an idol and he supported your goals and dreams too.

You had no idea that this was the summer that everything changed for him. When he realized that you were not just his best friend, but also a charismatic stunning woman who he started to gain a crush on.

Jungkook tried his best to keep the crush to himself. He didn’t want to lose you as a friend and it would be devastating to get rejected by you so he figured he would just keep it hidden and keep being your friend.

He would try his best not to scowl anytime a man came up to you and offered to buy you a drink. He would pretend it didn’t hurt when you would kiss strangers at the club wrapping your fingers through their hair and moaning against their lips.

He hated that when you dropped a guy because of whatever reason, his heart would do a little victory dance in his chest and he would try to look like a supportive friend and not a desperate loser who just wanted you to feel the same way about him as he did about you.

There were times though, when Jungkook was sure you felt….something.

How your eyes would linger when he took off his shirt. How you would always ask him to roll up his sleeve so you could look at the array of tattoos he had, how angry you got when that girl he really liked ghosted him a year ago.

There were times when he would also catch you staring at his lips. Just a quick downward flick of your eyes and in a blink it was gone.

But Jungkook noticed.

And he often wondered what would happen if he leaned in and kissed you.

Would he have read the entire situation wrong? Or would you kiss him back?

Jungkook shakes his head to rid him of these thoughts as he scoops everything up and puts it in his beach bag muttering to himself how he is being silly about this whole thing.

He is your friend.

And that’s that.

His phone vibrates on his dresser startling him, as he zips the bag closed and grabs it.

You: I have all the goods we need! I’m so excited for our beach day Kookie. Text me when you want me to head over. Might take a bit because of Saturday traffic.

Jungkook smiles at your pet name for him even though you have used it a million times and he quickly texts you back letting you know he was ready and you could come over whenever.

Jungkook’s vehicle had more storage space so you were going to drive to his place and he was going to drive to the beach. Plus his car had a sunroof which you absolutely adored and you often put your hands above your head like you were on a rollercoaster to feel the wind between your fingers.

It made him smile every time and made his heart pound in his chest.

Those were the moments of pure bliss where he felt his heart would burst out of his chest at all the feelings he had for you.

Feelings he was still trying to desperately hide.

Namjoon of course found out one night when Jungkook had one too many drinks and spilled his guts about it. Namjoon was patient with Jungkook as he told the entire story, how the crush came out of nowhere, and how he didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t lose you. He wouldn’t lose you.

As always Namjoon was the voice of reason and told Jungkook just to talk to you about it and Jungkook shot that idea down right away.

Namjoon promised to keep his mouth shut until Jungkook was ready to tell you himself which Jungkook vowed he would never… ever do. Your friendship was very important. He would take this secret with him to the grave.

With nothing else to do until you arrived, Jungkook shucked his beach bag off his bed and laid down.

He threw an arm over his face and let out a frustrated groan.

How the hell was he supposed to survive having a beach day with you? You were so beautiful. So sexy in your little sundresses, seeing you in a bathing suit would destroy him.

His mind wandered to last week when you met him for a lunch break you forced him to have because he was working so hard that he started skipping meals.

You showed up to his studio with food in hand and a little black sundress with small white and pink flowers scattered all over it.

The straps were so tiny and delicate and tied together with small pink bows and Jungkook couldn’t help but stare, as you brushed past him to put the food on the small coffee table he kept in his studio.

As you leaned down the dress climbed higher up your body, exposing more of your legs and the apex of your thighs to his hungry gaze and he couldn’t help it.

The blood rushed to his cock so quickly he felt dizzy as he scrambled to sit on the couch before you noticed he popped a boner because of you in that damn sundress.

You didn’t seem to notice as you sat next to him and chatted about your day as you ate alongside him.

Jungkook tried to focus on what you were saying, he really did, but his eyes kept trailing down to your thighs and how tanned they looked due to all the time you spent outside.

What he wouldn’t give to pull that dress up higher and expose more of yourself to him. What would you do if he got his fingers between those legs? How would you sound moaning out his name as he plunges a finger inside?

Back in the present time Jungkook groaned and squeezed his eyes shut.

He could hardly hear the sounds of the lawnmower outside, or the kids screaming down the block as blood was pounding in his ears and he looked down with a grimace as he was hard in his swim trunks.

Achingly hard.

Just the memory of you in that dress alone made his cock fill rapidly and the bulge was evident as his cock stretched the material.

Now was not the time to pop a boner as you were going to be showing up soon but he felt like if he didn’t take care of it now it would never go down so he slowly lifted his hips to shuck off his swim shorts throwing them somewhere on the floor and freeing his aching cock.

His cock sat hard and heavy on his stomach as the head of it was a flushed red color. Jungkook took his time tracing his tattooed hand down his body, shivering when the air conditioning turned on, turning his nipples hard as he finally made his way to his cock.

He circled his cock which twitched in his hand and he got to work.

He threw his head back and imagined what would happen if he did lift your dress higher that day.

How you would stare at him all wide-eyed and shocked as he exposed your pussy. How you would be wet and throbbing for him. He would of course ask for permission before touching you and you would admit you’ve wanted this for ages.

Jumgkook sped up his movements on his cock, flicking his wrist over the cockhead and smearing his precum down his heated shaft. He always got so messy and wet when he imagined you and the glide felt amazing.

In his mind’s eye, you were grabbing his arm for support as his other hand explored your pussy. He would part your pussy lips so gently and you would be soaked for him. You would arch up into his fingers and beg for his touch as he would finally coat his finger in your wetness.

He would pop it into his mouth and taste you as you would whine and beg him for more.

The taste of you would explode on his tongue and he knew the second it touched his tongue it was over for him. He would never want to taste anyone else but you.

Jungkook sped up his movements once again as his muscles started to strain. He was getting close as his thumb flicked over his cockhead sending jolts of pleasure down his spine.

He would lay you back on the couch in his studio and fuck you open with one finger. You would be so wet for him, so needy for him. Your dress hiked up to expose yourself, one strap falling off your shoulder as you whine out his name.

Jungkook tightens his grip on his cock and begins to fuck up into his fist. His head is thrown back and his dark hair is a mess on his pillow. He bites his bottom lip to keep from whining your name out loud. His cock is throbbing in his hand, hot and hard and so desperate to release all over his twitching stomach.

He wants to make you cum apart all over his fingers. He wants to tease you, taste you, fill you up with his cock, and make you moan his name.

His hand speeds up as his hips fuck his cock wildly up into his hand.

Sweat is starting to form on his brow and he is close, so close he can feel his muscles tighten and his balls draw up. His cock is a sticky mess as he is leaking so much precum the glide is impeccable and the wet sounds are obscene.

“Y/N.” He groans unable to keep his noises contained as the muscles on his arms are bulging as he rubs his hand across his frenulum collecting the mess there to slide it down his shaft.

Jungkook can feel the beginning of his orgasm as he cries out your name and tightens his hand around his shaft jerking his cock quickly as the pressure builds.

He is right there.

His balls tighten, and he can feel his shaft contracting and spasming. His heart rate is rapid and the hair on his arms stands up.

“Kook?” He hears a soft small voice call and his eyes snap open as panic seizes his body. He released his cock to grab a pillow to cover himself as his head whips around to see you standing there in one of your sundresses looking horrified.

Holy fuck.

“Y/N!” He cries out, shoving the pillow over his cock which is still thrumming with need and twitching painfully as his orgasm is still just right there but you are also standing....right there.

He sits up against the headboard and puts a hand over his racing heart as he stares at you wide-eyed in absolute horror.

He was jerking off to you. His best friend. Moaning your name. And you walked in on him caught in the act.

Holy fuck he was so fucked.

“I-texted you to let you know I was here but you didn’t answer. I remembered where you keep the spare key so I-l-Let myself in.” You stammered unable to look away as Jungkook wished the bed and floor would swallow him hole.

You had driven over so excited to see Jungkook today and you even wore your best sundress just for him.

The pale blue one with the small bow in between the built-in cups.

You made sure to get all his favorite foods and snacks as you knew he had been working himself to death and you wanted to treat him.

He didn’t answer your knocks or your texts so you figured maybe he had his music on too loud once again and didn’t hear you.

You put the key in the door and were met with utter silence, which was a little weird but you figured he was in the back getting the umbrellas or something so you made your way through his apartment until you heard a noise.

A soft grunt that had you worried. Maybe he hurt himself? Maybe he was sick?

You flew to his bedroom and there he was.

All sprawled out on the bed with his shorts discarded on the floor. He was still wearing his white tee shirt and had his head thrown back against his pillows with his legs spread wide exposing himself to you.

You knew you should leave, you knew this was a private moment but you couldn’t help but stare as he worked his cock with his hand.

He was big and even from where you stood you could see how wet his cock was and how slick he sounded when he jerked it.

You knew you should step away, maybe stand outside until it was over but you were rooted to the spot as you watched his hips arch up and the filthiest moans leave his pink parted lips.

And when he moaned your name

Dear god when he moaned your name you felt your own arousal pool in your bikini shorts as you gripped the door for support.

Jungkook moaning your name.

He was fantasizing about you

He was the most gorgeous man you had ever met and he chose to fantasize about you when he jerked off.

The whole thing felt unreal.

“I-I- You… you weren’t supposed to-I didn’t mean for you to- fuck.” Jungkook stuttered as you put your bag down on the floor and entered his room.

His large dark eyes widened when you made your way to the bed and you could see his fingers flexing on the decorative pillow he threw over his lap to cover himself.

“I-fuck- I’m so sorry you probably h-h-ate me and think I’m a pervert- I-I can-explain.” He stammers cheeks flushed with the prettiest blush you had ever seen.

Jungkook continued to stammer out apologies as you stared down at him in shock. His hair was a sweaty mess on his forehead and his chest was heaving. You could see his muscles straining through the white material of his shirt and his hand held the pillow firmly over his cock.

Was he still hard?

Was he still horny?

Was he actually jerking off to you?

“Y/N please say something. Please.” He begs in a small voice as your eyes finally meet his and he looks in anguish over the whole thing.

“Were you…jerking off….to me?” You ask in awe as he flushes further and sits up higher on the bed.

His teeth bite into his lower lip as you sit softly on the edge of the bed.

“I-I can-I-” He stammers.

“Yes or No Jungkook?” You ask firmly.

His eyes widen and he nods. He hangs his head in shame and you feel your pussy throb.

Jungkook, your best friend, the guy you have had a crush on since high school was hot and bothered because of you.

It made you beam in excitement.

“Show me.” You say boldly as his eyes snap to yours and widen in shock.

“I-Uh- W-What?” He says.

“I want to see you finish. Or help you finish. Show me, Koo?” You plead as his tongue comes out to lick at his lip and the tension in the room is thick like the humidity outside.

“You don’t hate me? Or think I’m creepy? You’re not going to yell at me?” He says doe eyes wide as his hand twitches on the pillow again.

“Of course not. Masturbation is normal. I’m honored you’re even thinking of me in the first place.” You say as you slowly run your hand down his forearm.

“I died. I must have died or hit my head cause there is no way this is real. Holy fuck.” He mutters as you giggle and Jungkook can feel his cock, which had gone immediately soft at being caught, start to thicken behind the pillow.

“This is real. And I gotta admit. It’s hot as fuck you think of me when you touch yourself.” You admit as he blinks shyly at you.

“Can’t help it. These sundresses…fuck.” He says fingering the fabric of your dress before running a shaky hand through his long hair.

“Show me, Koo? Please.” You beg and he nods slowly as his teeth bite into his lower lip harshly.

“Don’t bite your lip Koo you’re gonna make yourself bleed.” You whisper as he lets out a breathy nervous laugh.

“Can’t help it. ‘m nervous.” He admits.

“No need to be nervous. It’s just me.”

“That’s the problem. The girl I’m fantasizing about is right in front of me wanting to see me jerk off. I’m so pent up I’m scared I’m gonna bust a nut all over this pillow.” He whimpers as you giggle.

“Then you better get to work. Show me? Please, Koo? Wanna see up close.”

He nods and removes the pillow baring his half-hard cock to you.

You gasp when you see it and Jungook covers his eyes in embarassment.

Even half-hard his cock is beautiful. The head is flushed a pretty pink color and there is a vein running up it that makes your mouth water.

“So pretty Koo.” You praise, as he removes his hands and stares at you in awe.

He slowly takes his cock in his hand and begins to jerk it. You watch as the flushed head disappears between his fist and how he takes his time with himself, flicking his wrist occasionally making pretty beads of precum leak out the slit.

It doesn’t take long for him to get to full hardness and he lets go of his cock to show you how it smacks against his stomach.

He is rock hard and leaking and the vein that winds up his cock is a lot more prominent now as the head of his cock is now a pretty flushed red color and shiny, so shiny.

“Fuck Koo you are so big.” You whimper as without warning you wrap your hand around his cock and his hips arch up into your touch as a broken moan spills from his lips.

“Can I?” You ask with a quirk of your eyebrow as he nods frantically and you snicker.

You take your time with him jerking him the way you saw him do to himself. You flick your wrist when you get to the top and you use your thumb to smear the precum over the head of his cock and his slit. He is so velvety and warm under your touch you let out a soft whine as you jerk him.

Jungkook is a mess below you. His chest is heaving, his muscles are straining and he is trying his best to hold back and not cum the second you get your hands on him.

“F-Fuck I hate to say this b-but ‘m close.” He whines in panic.

“Can you hold back a little longer so I can taste you?” You ask innocently as he bites his bottom lip and closes his eyes trying to take deep breaths and stop the incessant throbbing of his cock. His denied orgasm from earlier was making him needy and he needed to calm himself down before he made a mess all over your fist.

You lean down and slowly give the head of his cock kitten licks. Jungkook moans above you and you grin as you finally take him into your mouth.

Your mouth is hot and wet and everything Jungkook had ever wanted as you suck him down, bobbing your head and humming around him, causing vibrations to run up his shaft.

With your other hand, you jerk him, picking up speed as you suck him off and when your tongue flicks over his frenulum Jungkook is a goner.

He croaks out your name and holds back your hair as he cums down your throat. No warning could have pulled you off his cock as you swallow everything he has to give, slowing your strokes and milking his cock for all that he has.

“S-Sensitive. Fuck.” He whines out as you pull off and open your mouth to show him proudly that you swallowed it all.

“You are trying to kill me. Holy fuck.” He breathes out as you giggle and curl up next to him, lacing your fingers together and waiting for him to come down from his high.

You can feel the uncomfortable wetness between your thighs but you don’t worry about that now as you bury your face in his chest and listen to his breathing settle.

“I’m dead. Like I’m actually dead. No way that happened.” He pondered as you giggle and pinch his side

“Ouch! What was that for!” He cries out as you sit up and smirk at him.

“Dead people can’t feel pinches. You are very much alive.” You say smiling down at him as sits crisscrossed on the bed and stares at you.

“You-You jerked me off.” He says

“I did.” You reply with a smug smile.

“I- I imagined I was fingering you and suddenly you were here…jerking me off.” He wonders aloud.

“Mm, you fingering me. That’s hot,” you say feeling your pussy throb.

“But we were friends aren’t we?” He asks in a small timid voice.

“Friends can jerk each other off. Though... I would like to be more than friends.” You reply feeling your heart racing in your chest.

“Like…fuck buddies?” He replies as his tongue comes out to lick at his lips and you can’t help but laugh.

“I was thinking we could go on a date.”

His eyes bulge and his cheeks turn a beautiful dusty pink.

“I’ve liked you for years now Koo. I didn’t think you felt the same but walking in on you… moaning my name…. Fuck.” You say running a hand through your hair.

Jungkook doesn’t respond.

And for a breath, you are worried you read the whole thing wrong and fucked this friendship up.

But then he leans forward, tangles his hands in your hair, and kisses you.

And you kiss him right back.

The kiss is passionate and wild. You press your lips hard into his and pour out all those days and weeks and months of looking at him and wishing he was yours. Jungkook moans against your mouth which gives you access to swipe your tongue along his lower lip as he groans.

“Fuc-Fuck I feel the same way.” He mutters against you as he flips you over with ease and has you pinned to the bed.

You giggle when you look up and see him overtop of you, his eyes wide with disbelief and his lips red and swollen.

He swoops in and kisses you again as you run your hands down his strong back and arch up into his touch. His lips move with yours and you boldly wrap your legs around his back to push his crotch into yours making him grunt against your mouth.

“Let me make you feel good.” He groans as you nod.

Jungkook fixes the pillows behind your head and gets to work peppering kisses on your cheeks and down your neck causing you to arch up into his touch and moan.

You are beyond needy at this point and when he tugs at the straps of your dress to kiss at your shoulders you moan out his name and flutter your eyes closed.

His lips feel like heaven and when he finally had enough kissing he kneels above you and you open your eyes.

“I never thought this day would come. You in a sundress, laying in my bed. Fuck I’m the luckiest guy alive.” He says as you smile up at him with adoration.

Jungkook’s warm hands come to rest on your thighs and he slowly and carefully lifts up your dress to expose your body to him.

His eyes widen when he takes in the black bathing suit bottoms you picked out which are modest enough for the beach but have two tantalizing ties at the sides holding the material together.

“Thank god I got you in my bed. It would have been so difficult seeing you in these bottoms without getting hard.” He admits as his hand toys with the ties and when he finally unties them both and pulls the fabric off of your body you are panting below him.

You snicker when you see his cock bobbing between his legs at the sight of you and he wraps a hand around himself to stroke his cock to ease some of the ache.

“Hey, you already got your turn!” You tease as he releases his cock and grins sheepishly at you.

“May I?” He asks and you nod, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth as his fingers part your folds and he swears under his breath.

“Fucking soaked for me. Just like I imagined.”

He gathers your wetness and brings it up to your clit as he rubs you in slow circles causing you to arch off the bed and whine out his name.

Jungkook continues to circle your clit agonizingly slow and he snickers when you beg him for more.

“How are we going to have sex and make it to the beach if you're going this slow.” You say as his eyes widen and his movements halt.

“Koo.” You whine as you grab at his wrist to get him to do something…anything.

“You want to have sex?” He asks shyly as you stare down at him.

“I’d like to. Only if you want to though. I’m okay with this too.” You admit as you see his cock twitching between his legs again.

“I want to have sex with you.” He says as he pulls you in for another rough kiss and his hands return to your pussy with enthusiasm.

“Can I slip a finger inside? Gotta prep you for my cock.” He growls against your lips as you nod and he gathers more wetness on his middle finger before slipping it inside your tight wet heat.

You cry out his name and grab onto his bicep as he thrusts his finger in and out of your body. He wastes no time adding another finger and the stretch makes you whine but he is careful and takes his time until you are moaning again and begging him to move.

He scissors his fingers causing you to flutter your eyes closed and arch up into his touch. Your whole body is on fire and when he curls his fingers you feel every muscle in your body start to tense as you grind down on them desperate for more.

You blindly reach down for his cock which is now standing hard and proud and when you circle it Jungkook hisses and uses his free hand to swat yours away.

You open your eyes to frown at him but he curls his fingers up inside you again and you are seeing stars.

“I’ll cum if you jerk me off Y/N. I swear this is so hot I’m so fucking hard right now. Don’t wanna cum around your fist.” he explains as you grin.

“Then fuck me and cum inside me instead.” You offer as he removes his fingers and you open your eyes in time to see him pop them in his mouth.

You gasp as he licks your slick off his fingers moaning at the taste and your pussy throbs impatiently as he takes his time.

“Koo please.” You beg as he finally gets his fingers clean and he hops off the bed to retrieve a condom.

You watch as he rips open the packet and rolls the condom down his length. He strokes himself and whimpers, which makes you smile to know he is just as desperate as you are

“How do you want it?” He asks hovering above you, lips inches from your own.

“Doesn’t matter just want you.”

He carefully drags your body to the end of the bed and you giggle when he opens your legs and wraps them around his torso.

You stare up at him as he takes his time to tie back his hair.

“Koo. Don’t tease.” You whine impatiently as he finally gets his hair tied back and he grabs the base of his cock to position himself at your wet folds.

“I’m gonna be honest with you. I don’t know how long I’m gonna last.” He admits as he teases your slit with his cockhead soaking it in your wetness and you whine out in impatience.

“I don’t care about you lasting. Just fuck me already before I do it myself.” You beg as he finally slips his cockhead inside and in one smooth thrust he buries himself as deep inside of you as he can go.

You squeeze your eyes shut and wince at the stretch and Jungkook leans down to press soft kisses to your forehead and cheeks.

“Doing so well for me. Deep breaths now. So fucking tight around my cock. You are so wet for me. Fuck you feel heavenly.” He praises as he shallowly thrusts inside of you letting your body adjust to his girth and giving you all the time you need.

“Baby, are you already throbbing around me?” He teases as you open your eyes to playfully smack his arm and he shoots you his classic bunny smile.

“Sh-Shut up.” You plead as he begins to give you harder and deeper thrusts and your eyes roll to the back of your head.

He feels so good inside of you. The way his cock drags against your walls has you crying out his name and when he starts to really thrust deep you swear you can feel him in your stomach.

“Fu-Fuck Koo. Feel so good.” You cry out as he holds your legs steady and thrusts his cock inside you, arching his hips so he can hit your G-spot with every thrust.

“Wh-Why are you so good at this what the fuck?” You grit out as he chuckles above you and pushes your legs higher so he can hit deeper inside of you.

“Are you a-actually mad at me for being good at sex?” He taunts you as you decide to get back at him by squeezing his cock with your walls which makes him grunt and fuck you harder and faster.

“No, I’m m-mad we waited so long to do this. Fuck.”

Jungkook picks up speed on his thrusts all the while you are powerless on the bed as you take what he gives you. You claw at the bedspread and moan his name as you feel the coil of pleasure get tighter in your stomach and by the way Jungkook is thrusting you know he is close too.

“C-Close. Koo. Please. M-More.” You beg not even able to make a coherent sentence but lucky for you Jungkook knows what you mean as he brings a free hand down to rub at your clit and you cry out his name and grind down on his cock desperately trying to meet his thrusts and chase your ever building high.

Your whole body is on fire, everything is strung tight and you can feel your pussy start to spasm around his cock.

“C-Close.” You cry out in warning as he thrusts into you with such force it pushes you up the bed.

“Cum for me Y/N. Cum around my cock. Be a good girl and cum for me.” He demands and you lose it.

You arch up and close your eyes as you shout out his name and cum hard around his cock. You feel your walls clamp around him as Jungkok groans and throws his head back cumming hard into the condom as your walls keep his cock from thrusting inside of you.

Waves of pleasure roll off you both as Jungook releases your legs and slumps down over top of you keeping his cock inside until you are done riding out your high.

The only sounds in the room are both of your heavy breathing as he finally slips out and leaves to go get cleaned up.

You feel weightless as you lay on the bed and press a hand to your heart as you try to even out your breathing.

Jungkook comes back with water and a warm towel and takes his time opening your legs and cleaning you up as you stare at the ceiling in a post-sex haze.

He lays down beside you and you curl up into his chest as he strokes your hair and praises you for how well you did.

There is a welcome ache between your legs from how roughly he fucked you but you find you don’t mind too much as he wraps his arms around you caging you against his chest.

“That was incredible.” He says as you finally open your eyes to look at him.

His hair was coming out of its bun and tendrils were falling in front of his eyes. You reach up to push them away and smile. He was so handsome.

“That was very incredible holy shit we shouldn’t have waited so long.” You say as you both hear a noise outside and look up to see the sky had grown dark and a heavy rain was coming down.

“Oh shit.” You giggle as you both sit up and stare at the rainstorm outside.

“Guess no beach day for us.” He says smoothing down your hair as you lean in to kiss him softly.

“How about a movie day instead? I still brought snacks and drinks.” You say as he nods and carries you off the bed to the living room and you giggle the entire way.

Permanent taglist

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@hearteyes4hobi

@m00njinnie

@stayonmars

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[katstarry]

no one noticed | take our time

eddie munson x reader

part ii

masterlist ☆

part i | part iii

summary: you and eddie grow closer when eddie invites you to hangout outside of school.

warnings: fluff, pining, the upside down doesn’t exist here! a slow burn apparently, reader is introverted kinda

a/n: my obsession with him comes and goes but whenever it comes back IT COMES BACK HARDD 😭 it’s been a week of it consuming me again, i need more content of eddie! (robin & reader are very birds of a feather coded in my head)

feedback + reblogs are appreciated! ☆

you rush over to where robin is seated, not bothering to get in line for food. you’ll go later.

“i’m going crazy.” is what you say as soon as you reach her, interrupting what she was about to say, her mouth agape.

an amused expression covers her features, “oh? and why exactly, are you going crazy?” she leans closer to you, a knowing look in her eye.

you take a seat beside her, your back to eddie’s table.

“we got paired up for a project in history class.” is all you say as you steal a cold french fry from her tray.

“hey!” she swats your hand away, but she’s too late, “paired up, huh? i bet you’re thrilled!” she smiles over at you.

you groan and put your face in your hands.

“it wasn’t so bad, honestly. it was pretty fun. i didn’t make a fool of myself.” your words were muffled in between your hands, “…at least i hope not.” you say, facing your friend once again.

she laughs at your distress, “oh c’mon! you should be happy that you finally have an excuse to talk to him!”

“it’s not funny, robin! how am i going to survive this? oh my god, robin.” you look at her smiling, you know that you’re being dramatic. but besides your nerves, you are pretty excited to finally be talking to eddie.

“what?” she raises her eyebrows at you, eating her fries.

“he’s so dreamy.”

robin gags, “gross.”

you nudge her shoulder laughing, “oh please! maybe you’re right. i should just be happy about this. he was pretty nice.” you look at her and sigh dramatically, “it was pretty nice.”

“you’re hopeless.”

“you’re supposed to be hyping me up right now! i finally talked to my crush.”

“yeah, and i still can’t believe it only took you being partners for it to happen. by force.” she laughs when you pout.

“okay, okay! yes, of course i’ll hype you up. he’ll totally ask you out, though. i bet he’s thinking of you right now, planning how to do it. actually, he’s planning your marriage as we speak.”

“okay. let’s not get too crazy now.” you laugh, moving to stand to finally get in line for some food, but blushing at the thought nonetheless.

robin rolls your eyes at you, “you are too far gone.”

you steal one last fry from her before leaving, hearing a faint “oh c’mon!” behind you.

standing in line, you see the same girl from your history class in front of you, elizabeth? you think her name is?

she turns around, “oh, hey!”

“hey, elizabeth, right?”

“yes! you’re y/n? right?”

you smile, “yeah, we have history together.”

“right! i hope this project is over with quickly, i got stuck with byers,” she glanced at a table, “but it can’t be as bad as munson.”

you were taken aback, you knew what other people thought of him, but being outright rude is crazy.

“oh! eddie’s a great partner, honestly… we spent the class coming up with ideas. jonathan’s really nice too, i’ve helped him take some photos before for the yearbook.”

she raises an eyebrow at you, “hm. hopefully he won’t bring your grade down.”

you feel uneasy now, what’s her problem? do these people even give eddie a chance and actually talk to him?

“i doubt it, he seemed pretty excited.”

she laughs, “that’s because a girl is finally giving him some attention.”

“no, it’s because we’re working on a project together. and i dunno, i don’t talk trash about him?” you state, plainly, giving her an unamused look, not interested in continuing the conversation.

“wow, didn’t know you could even talk that much. that’s the most i’ve ever heard you speak!” she tilts her head at you mockingly, clearly you’ve upset her.

you don’t answer her, “could you move up? the lines moving.” avoiding her taunting gaze.

you see her roll her eyes from your peripheral, and she finally turns back around.

letting out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in, you finally make it to the food. mood ruined. why are people so mean. you’re starving. at least they’re serving your favorite today, chicken nuggets and fries. such an amazing meal, the best school food gets.

walking back to robin you catch a glimpse of eddie, he’s making another dramatic display. you don’t catch what he’s saying, since he stops his rant as you’re about to walk by, where he happens to be walking.

he bows dramatically, giving you room to walk around him, “my apologies, madame.” he smiles at you.

you shake your head laughing, “thank you, sir.”

you sit beside robin once again.

“finally! you’re back. it’s been too long! we’re finally reunited.” robin gives you a dramatic side hug.

“i know, sorry! i was held up by a troll. asked me to solve a riddle, couldn’t figure it out.”

she laughs, “oh yeah? how’d you make your away around it?”

“i ate it.” you deadpan, opening your pack of ketchup.

you finally turn to look over at her, both of you burst out laughing.

as you eat, you explain to robin your conversation with elizabeth.

“what an asshole.” she says as you both stand to throw away your trash and put away your trays.

“i know right!” you shake your head, putting your tray away.

“i just don’t understand why it bothers people so much if people don’t talk. like, hello! maybe they just don’t want to talk to you?” she says, “or- or, like why it bothers people so much that people are different from them, in general? the times i’ve occasionally spoken with eddie, he seemed pretty chill.” she raises her hands in exasperation.

“right? i don’t get it either.” you sigh.

walking out the cafeteria you join robin by her locker, before going to your own, where she accompanies you as well, and grab what you need.

“see you at dismissal?” you say.

“yup! i don’t have practice today, steve’s gonna pick me up. i got a shift after school today.” she gives you a fist bump before going on her way to class.

it’s finally the end of the day.

you can finally take that nap.

you make your way to your locker, leaving your books.

by the door on your way out you see robin, “we’re free!” she exclaims.

she wraps her arms around your shoulders, “let’s get outta here.” you say.

“what do you plan to do? while i’m away at family video, locked inside there, along with an annoying dingus, with no other choice but to do work?” she lets out an exasperated breath, looking over to you.

“i was planning on taking a nap.”

“fun!” she says, with fake enthusiasm. “was kinda hoping for a, ‘i’ll come by and see you, of course! you’re my bestest friend! i won’t let you suffer alone!’ but i see now how much you truly care about me.”

you laugh, “i’ll come by to see you, robs.” making your way to your car, steve isn’t here yet, so robin walks with you.

“really?” she says hopefully.

“yeah, after i take my nap.” you say, looking straight ahead.

“oh c’mon! your naps always last, like, forever!” she whines.

“it won’t be that long this time!” you look at her, and she looks at you.

“okay maybe it will be.”

she shakes her head as you reach your car, leaning onto it.

“you and your fucked sleep schedule.”

“it’s me and my crap sleep schedule against the world.”

“hey, i thought it was you and me against the world!”

you were too busy bantering with robin that you didn’t realize eddie walking up behind you.

he was looking for you in the hallways, even stopped by your locker. he was working up his courage all throughout lunchtime, and his last classes.

“y/n! wait!” he calls out your name, jogging to reach you.

you stop what you were about to say, staring at robin.

seeing her light up, a smirk appearing on her face.

turning your head, you’re met with eddie, hands on his knees, catching his breath.

“eddie?”

“yeah, hey. it’s me. givemeasec.” he breathes out, before standing upright again.

“hello.” he turns to robin, “and hello.” he nods his head to her.

“hey.” she looks behind him and looks back at you, “oh would you look at that? my rides here! i’ll call you later y/n! bye!” she leaves before you can even respond. you look at the direction she ran, steve’s not even here yet.

eddie turns back to face you, also looking confused by robin’s sudden disappearance.

“s’that usually happen?” he has an amused look on his face.

you shake your head, “no.”

“ah well- uh anyway. i wanna ask you something.”

oh? okay. cool. he wants to ask you something.

“yeah?”

“yeah.” he looks at you.

“okay.. you can ask me anything, eddie.”

“right! shit, uh. i was wondering, are you doing anything? later?” he sees your panicked look, he backtracks, “i mean to, y’know, work on the project.” nice save.

ah. you hide your disappointment, “oh, yeah sure. i’m not doing anything today.” oh robin’s gonna be pissed that you canceled your nap for this and not see her at work.

“okay, cool. uhh where do you wanna meet? i mean, we could go to my place? or if not that’s cool too we could go to the library or something. dunno.” he kicks a loose pebble in the parking lot, messing with his rings. cute.

“your place is fine. i could just follow right behind you,” you jiggle your keys in-front of you, “i gotta call my mom first though, let her know.” you flush, “uh, where is your place?” you ask, knowing your mom would want to know.

“it’s uh the forest hills trailer park.” he continues to fiddle with his rings, looking at you now.

“right, i know where that is. let me just ring her real quick, yeah? i’ll be right back!” you head towards the telephones outside the school, call your mom and assure her it’s just for a project and that you won’t take that long.

you head back to your car, seeing eddie still standing nearby.

“all good?” he says, smiling.

“yeah, let’s go.” you smile back.

on your drive there you realize what exactly you’re doing.

your going to eddie’s place.

you’re freaking out.

it’s okay, that’s cool. it’s just for the project. you have your notebook in your book bag still. you have your notes.

entering the trailer park and parking beside his van, you mentally prepare yourself. oh god, you’re going into his home.

breathe! you still can’t even believe your mom let you come over in the first place, to a boys place.

seeing eddie get out his van, you get out your car with your bag and stand awkwardly as you wait for him.

“this way, madame.” he says, walking ahead of you and up to the trailer. grabbing his keys from his pocket, he opens the door and lets you in first.

“welcome to my paradise.” he walks in after you, shutting the door behind him.

you look around the small living room. it’s cozy, comfortable, it feels homey. you gently place your bag on the couch.

“it’s a nice place eddie.”

he laughs and turns away, heading to the kitchen.

“you don’t have to lie.”

“i’m not lying.” you say, genuinely. “i used to live in a trailer too.”

he looks up, grabbing two cups. “really?”

you nod, “best years of my life, honestly. we moved to our current house when i was about,” you look up in thought, “7? 8? maybe?” you head over to where eddie stood.

he hums in acknowledgment. “didn’t know that.”

you shrug, “never really talked about it, not a big deal really.”

looking at you, he asks “would you like some water? soda? you can take a seat y’know.” he smiles over at you as he heads to the fridge.

taking a seat at one of the chairs at the table you answer, “hmm, what soda do you have?”

“uhh.. let me see.” he moves things around, “got some pepsi, sprite, coke..”

“i’ll take some coke, please.”

“comin’ right up, sweetheart.”

your brain nearly explodes.

oh you’re definitely calling robin after this.

he comes back to you with two cans of coke for the both of you.

“thank you. what a wonderful host.” you smile at him as he pulls out the chair beside yours and sits in it.

“you’re welcome.” he laughs.

“right.. so..” you open your can, “the project?”

a brief look of confusion crosses eddie’s face. right. the project.

he clears his throat, “yeah, the project. um, i’ll be getting the stuff tomorrow.” he stepped out during lunch for a bit to sell and earn some more cash, thankfully he got enough for the materials for the poster board, they’re pretty affordable anyway.

“alright, cool! thank you for that, by the way. i wouldn’t of had minded buying it.”

he shakes his head, drinking from his can. “no, no. it’s fine. i don’t mind.”

you’re about to say something when he gives you a look, “fine.” you huff in defeat.

“good.” he smiles, knowing he won.

“let me grab my notebook from my bag.” you get up and grab your book bag from the couch, unzipping it and looking for your notebook.

huh.

you look through it again, pulling out the ones you do have, double checking.

you can’t believe it. you literally have all your notebooks, except your history one. you sigh frustratedly, zipping your bag back up and heading back towards the kitchen, empty handed.

“couldn’t find it?”

“couldn’t find it.” you continue to stand, “sorry.”

“nah, it’s fine. uh.” he looks at his watch, “hasn’t been that long, if you, maybe wanna stay for a bit longer?” he taps on his can, please say yes.

you keep your excitement at bay, trying to remain cool.

“yeah, that’d be cool.” nice. super cool.

“cool.”

you sit back down, “so..” you smile, looking down at your can of coke.

“soo….” he mimicks.

“i wanted to let you know, about me calling my mom, it isn’t because i don’t trust you, i swear. she just likes knowing where i am, she worries.” you look at him.

“it’s all good. don’t worry ‘bout it.” though he does look as though he feels more comfortable now, “you get used to it.”

“you shouldn’t have to.”

he shrugs, changing the subject, “nice that your mom’s protective of you though.”

you laugh, “not as much as my dad though.”

“really? what’s he like?” he tilts his head at you, asking in genuine curiosity.

“well.. i’m the only girl. so you could imagine how protective he can be. he’s not like, controlling, but he’s just a bit strict. curfews and stuff like that.”

“hmm. you have siblings, then? brothers?”

“yeah,” you smile, “three actually. 2 older brothers and one younger. my older brothers moved out already though, but they visit frequently.. do you have any?”

“me? nah, no, i don’t. only son.”

you nod your head.

“live here with my uncle wayne, actually.” he moves his gaze back down to the table, “he works at the factory most days, ‘s why he’s not here right now.”

“oh cool, my dad used to work there too.”

“what’s he work in now?”

“construction. he’s out of the city on the weekdays, comes home on weekends. though sometimes he doesn’t come for a few weeks if the job is too far away.”

this is the most you’ve told someone about yourself, other than robin, in just a day.

you’re really going crazy.

“that’s cool-” he tries to find a way to lighten the mood after seeing your expression, but accidentally lets out a loud burp.

you laugh and he smiles.

“‘scuse me.” he laughs, covering his mouth.

“i lived with my brothers, trust me, you’re all good.” still laughing.

“what’s your uncle like?”

he goes on to talk about his uncle wayne, the conversation goes smoothly. you feel at ease with eddie’s jokes and banter, it’s an automatic click. a rare thing for you to come by, you hope this is the first of many hangouts. you realize that your closest friends are the complete opposite of you—robin, who can somehow make a conversation not boring, always including you with her other friends and makes you be apart of the conversation. it’s the same with eddie, how do they do it? it must be a superpower, or something.

you finish laughing after a story he had been telling you involving his friends from hellfire when you speak up, “could you tell me the time?”

he looks down at his watch, “uhh, it’s about to be 7 o’clock,” looking at you through his bangs, “tryna ditch me, sweetheart?”

dramatically grabbing at his chest, he says “i’m wounded.” and nearly falls out his chair.

“definitely. yeah, i can’t wait to get outta here.” you reply sarcastically, “i do have to go though.” you sigh.

“i had a lot of fun.”

he crosses his arms and smiles. “as did i.”

you get up from the chair, eddie does too and walks to the couch, grabbing your bag and handing it to you once you reach him. “thanks.”

he opens the door for you and walks you to your car, “we should uh, do this again sometime. hangout..” he scratches his neck, looking around before looking at you once again.

“i’d love to!” you twirl your keys in your hand.

“cool! can’t wait.” he clears his throat. “see you tomorrow? at school?”

“see you, eddie.” you smile over at him when you open your car door, getting in and closing it.

you can’t stop smiling on your drive home, you just hung out with your crush. you’re friends with your crush now.

right as you get home and talk to your mom, you immediately call robin spending another few hours talking to her.

you go to sleep that night feeling happy, and you can’t wait for the next day to come.

[sashi-ya]

HIS MONT BLANK hoshina soshiro x f! reader. bite kink

⋆ requested by: @omeowie - hello, I love your Hoshina x Reader fanfics a lot 💙 I love your writing style, how you build reader’s characteristics and situations so can I request a Hoshina Soshiro x Reader fic for the mini event. NSFW please 🥹 With bite kink and dirty talk if you’re comfortable with it. I would love to see a possessive or yandere Hoshina. But honestly, I would enjoy any Hoshina x Reader work from you. I wish you all the best and I will waiting for every of your fic. Thank you so much. 💕💕 ⋆tw: mdni. explicit smut. bite kink. some dirty talking here and there. nipple play and raw vag sex in a tent. Kafka x Mina mentioned, sorry not sorry, I just want those two to fuck already. ⋆wc: 2.1K // event masterlist // tagging some of you cause I know you want this man: @aries-m0rningstar @shaderynshidou @stargirlstabber @loyard176

You are probably wondering why squad 3 ended up on a camping trip to the Shiraiwa Falls, a scenic nature location one hour from the Tachikawa base. I have no idea, but what I do know is what happened that not very warm summer night...

Everybody seems to be in good spirit; Kaiju aren’t at all a problem during this night. The JAKDF vans rest at the very end of the road next to the Ooba Camp Village, and the tents have been properly set up. A very taken care of a bonfire also have been set, yet everybody is happy Ichikawa have brought with him many blankets for extra warmth. The humid nature of the place, and the “Tsuyu” or rain season made the nights of Hinode a little colder than the rest of the day.

Some of the guys, who -as always- have exceeded themselves during the day by climbing and acting like little animals playing here and there in the nature, are already showing signs of being tired. And even others are already dragging their bodies to the tents.

“You look cold” Hoshina fukutaicho says, as he comes closer to you. “A little bit…” you answer back, a little nervous. For some reason you can’t conceive the idea of a laid-back interaction with him when the rest of the squad’s around. “Come a little closer, I won’t bite you…” he whispers, smiling sweetly.

-oh, Soshiro Hoshina, you shouldn’t lie-

He covers you with the same blanket he is wearing, a proximity that some may or may not see a little bit too much for comrades. A proximity even to you seems too much.

However, nobody is really paying much attention; what everybody seems to be watching at is Kafka and Mina having a very private chat a few meters from the rest. Everybody knows, by any means, that such interaction should not be interrupted. Especially, when you discover Ashiro Taichou is capable of laughing being so close to Kafka.

“mhhh…” Soshiro hums, with a naughty smile. “don’t- bother them” Kikoru immediately intervenes. “Indeed, Shinomiya-chan ~” he sings; and with his usual two fingers up in the air he commands that it is time for everybody to go to sleep.

You beam, sweetly. Everybody knows, and at the same time they don’t. It doesn’t matter where that conversation will lead them, but everybody wants Mina and Kafka to laugh and enjoy their night.

“Which tent are you sleeping in?” Soshiro asks, once you stand up to follow everybody else to the tents.

“I was paired with Captain Mina, so that one” you answer, confused as why he is actually asking that.

“Good, then you are sleeping in mine. I paired myself with Kafka but given the fact that they might want a free tent -and if they don’t I will make them use one- this must be done” Soshiro decrees.

You might wanted to differ, but can you say no to him?

Soon, and after the rest couldn’t notice, you are finally inside the vice-captain tent. You find yourself sitting right on what it could have been Kafka’s sleeping bag, covered still with the blanket Soshiro shared with you. The scent of his manly perfume invades your nose, brain and mind. And your eyes, get full of the image of him taking his jacket off.

Soshiro wearing shorts is a whole new look you aren’t used to; but the compression shirt always stays on. He knows how good it looks on him, and he will explode such tempting imagery to his own benefit.

“Looking something  delicious, (Name)-san?” he asks, playful and naughty. “You ~” you murmur, covering your mouth with the blanket.

Soshiro crawls towards you; the tent isn’t big, so there isn’t room for much. His skilful hands pull from your blanket; he wants to see your body, too.

“You might have to excuse me, but you are the delicious one here my sweet little whore” he whispers, kneeled just in front of you ready to attack your lips.

Before you could say something, he turns off the little lamp. Soshiro is well aware of how shadows can casts on a tent specially if its dark enough on the outside.

A subtle light that comes from the silver moon, filters through the fabric of the Izumo tecs tent. It’s enough; you don’t really need the light to see each other’s bodies. Hands all over can travel through the mounts and valleys of your anatomies; lips all over too. Teeth can carve flesh, and tongue taste the taste of lust and needs.

“You smell so sweet, (Name). Did you use this perfume to make me fuck you, my dolce little whore? You want me to bite all over your tits?” he murmurs, inhaling the scent from the small of your neck. Those words hit you hard, your core gets more wet than before.

As if you were a honeyed Mont Blanc, Soshiro’s mouth begins to water. His hand land on your mandible, grabbing your chin with his palm, letting his thumb dive into your mouth and using enough force to move your head to the side.

With your neck exposed, now, he is able to take of bite of your dessert skin. The prominence of his fangs have always been a problem, or maybe just a blessing. Sharp, honed. Enough pressure can tear, rend the flesh. Just as his blades, so precise and deadly…

“Did I say I wouldn’t bite you? I will, actually” he smirks. You can’t see, but you can feel his lips curling up like a devil ready to be as mischievous as he pleases.

Because you allow it. Because you want it to. Because he says so, too.

The first bite came soft, the second one a little harder. The thumb inside your mouth, dampened in saliva, travels from the commissure of your lips towards your neck and chest.

There, where the zipper of your sports shirt is, his fingers reach. Soshiro lowers it, allowing your breasts to pop just like he likes it. Pointy nose buries just in the valley of your collarbones, going down, inhaling more and more of your sweet perfume.

“Ugh… I can’t stop myself. I just want to leave bruises all over this beautiful needy skin of yours” he grunts, getting his fangs ready to bite yet again. This time, with your hips already straddled on his lap. His hardness pushing strong against your core, so much that even the sport shorts feel tight on him.

Every bite makes you flinch; you react with little spasms. He never bites in order, if there is even an order to devour someone. Almost like a cannibal, he keeps bruising your delicate skin, with a painful and yet so delicious sensation. Soshiro could spend the rest of the night just like this, and you will be thankful even if he dared to drew blood out of you.

Down, down to your nipples he goes. Soshiro immediately covers your mouth with his palm, because he knows those little sweet whimpers must only be heard by him, and him only.

Nibbling on your right one, you shudder. Harder, Hoshina fukutaicho.

The tip of his left fang seems to pierce your extra sensitive tissue, enough to trigger a desperate need for your core to graze against his erection.

“My needy little Mont Blanc, come on move on top of my dick, pleasure yourself go ahead” he scoffs. Soshiro encourages you to move on top of him, to hump on him, with his palm squeezing your ass cheeks and pushing you towards him.

Your hands land on his shoulders; oh, the strong, well-trained shoulders of a blade specialist. Your nails, that imitate his teeth, carve marks into the very beginning of his shoulder blades as the biting on your breasts turn more and more violent.

And Soshiro wants more. You definitely want it too. Thus, slowly, but surely your back finally hits the not so comfy surface of the sleeping bag.

His hands land on each side of your head, pinned in missionary position by your hungry superior and lover. A trail of saliva on the commissure of his mouth shines with the weak moonlight passing through the zipper of the tent. The same goes for your upper body; you are trembling, feeling as the wet spots where his teeth have been get colder with a soft breeze.

Your shaky hands reach for the lower hem of his shirt; as much as you may love that compression piece of clothing, you love his pale skin the most.

“Take it off…” you murmur, perhaps pleading for mercy because you are sure this is just the start of this man’s sharp torture.

He smiles, devilishly; the fangs that sometimes are too cute to handle, now show how dangerous they could really be.

Soshiro takes off his shirt, then, looking like the star of a men strip club. Or maybe it is just that his tiny waist seems to be deadly dancing every time he moves.

You swallow, snaking your legs around his hips, pulling him closer to you. He gasps, Soshiro is very used to lead the way, not the other way around. However, he is absolutely lost in need to think much further.

Your eyes interlock; fixed into each other, hungry, desperate. Maybe in another time there will be more time for more foreplay, but not tonight.

You didn’t even notice when it happened, but your pants were off as fast as he can subjugate a Kaiju. His, pulled down by your toe hooked into the hem of his shorts, tangle around his strong hips.

“It’s gonna be raw, babe” he lets you know, half panting, half serious. “I know” you confess, you don’t want it any other way despite the risks.

Soshiro takes a big gasp of air, you are being the death of him. First, your sweet perfume, then your sweet taste and now your desperation for his sex. He then proceeds to lift your left leg up to his waist; he wants to go deeper the mere moment he is inside of you.

“Spread it like this” he murmurs, biting your knee from the side. Soshi positions himself a little to the side, in a delicious way to enter, pumping his throbbing shaft just a little to coat it entirely with the sprouting precum oozing from his tip.

You, on the other side, swear that the poor sleeping bag is already wet from your honeys. And you are not wrong, but things are about to get even more damp.

Slowly, because he can be fast and deadly, but also painfully unrushed, the tip barely lets your folds to engulf it. Your toes curl, it feels like rapture, like total ecstasy. Warmth against warmth, sliding so easily inside, stretching walls just perfectly slow.

The broad shoulders of Soshiro seem to become larger, his frame bigger. You can only imagine the look from his back, with every muscle moving, every defined line leading to the small of his back.

His abs aren’t the exception, either. The way his perfectly sculped stomach moves to the rhythm of his still superficial short thrusts might be enough to make you come. What a beautiful blade warrior he is.

“More…” “More? Aren’t you a little desperate bitch of mine?”

Soshiro goes deeper. Deeper than before. His hand lands on your mouth again, your moan stopped, your heart about to jump from your chest.

The rhythm increases. His hips go in and out faster with every impaling motion, and his teeth grip from the bridge of your foot. Even there, he is willing to leave his marks. Even from there, he wanna taste.

And yet, even on the verge of climax, it is not enough for him. Not deep enough… Your shin ends up on his shoulder, a position you weren’t exactly sure your body was capable to be put on.

He lets his body weight fall on top of you, and you can feel how his hardness might be drilling a hole into your insides. This time it is his mouth the one to mutter your orgasmic whines, inhaling the way you barely pronounce a <fuck> mixed with his name.

And now, he goes full throttle. Ah, Soshiro Hoshina, Vice-captain, fast and precise, deadly and wild… Slaps that some might have chosen to ignore during the night, were created with feverish skin against skin. Moans and grunts were engulfed by needy drooling mouths. Climaxes were reached, on and on and on…

Next morning, camping’s women’s bathroom house.

“(Name) what are those marks on your skin?” “Uh… mosquito bites…” “Oh, Captain Ashiro also has them all over her skin! You two forgot to use bug spray last night?!” “How about we stop asking so many questions…”

….

Next morning, camping’s men’s bathroom house.

“Seems mosquitoes were pretty annoying last night… right, Hoshina fukutaichou? Hibino Kafka?” “bwahahaha, they call you bug Hibino Kafka!” 😂 “They are laughing at you too, fukutaicho!!”  -.-

[screeching-bunny]

Yandere! Supernatural Harem

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’

A/N: This idea was inspired by a Reddit prompt.

Ever since you were little, you’ve always attracted unwanted attention from supernatural creatures. You were like a magnet, a special enigma that only certain entities were aware of. Werewolves would try to take you to their dens, sirens would always try to lull you towards the sea with their voices, fairies would try to guide you to their forbidden forests. The list could go on and on.

Mythological creatures thought to be made up scary bedtime stories would always line up outside your door. It didn’t matter how old you were. Childhood memories consisted of these monsters trying to kidnap and force an adoption upon you. Teenage/adult years consisted of marriage proposals and courtship. No matter where you were, there was always a stalker up your trail following you.

Having friends was basically impossible. Every interaction you’ve had with another person has always ended up badly for them. Whether they be mutilated beyond recognition or become a seeping liquid you knew better then to go out and make friends. Thankfully, you’re family was never harmed by this ordeal and you moved as far away from them as possible to keep them safe.

Currently, you have a dilemma on your hands and right now it’s because of a certain Naga.

“Do you like my skin?” He asked in a tense voice. As he stands before you with his long serpent tail wagging through the air like a dog.

“It’s very pretty” You knew better than this. You felt like an absolute fool for picking up his shedded skin. Honestly, you should have just ignore it and went on with your day as if nothing was there.

“I’m so happy you think that way. If you like it that much let’s get married and I can give you as much as your pretty little heart desires. I’m so happy I decided to approach you. It took me months of prepping and working my skin to make sure that it shined brightly when it came off”

“It’s happening again,” you thought. Interactions like this happen on a daily basis. It would be strange not to see one marriage proposal a day from these guys. No matter what you did or how much you changed your appearance, these guys would always come back with eyes filled with love. Everyone of those supernatural creatures had their own unique version of courting and expressing their love.

“I’m sorry, I just don’t think I’m ready for marriage”

“You don’t have to be, as long as you come back with me I’ll make sure to treat you right and absolutely worship you. Being in your presence and being the only thing to brace your eyes is enough for me.

“I need some time to think about this, my emotions are still unclear”

“I understand this concern of yours and shall agree to give some time to ponder about this. However, I shall be coming back within a month's time and if you are still unsure I will take you back with me whether you like it or not” The naga states as slithers out of your yard and back into the forest.

The day just started and you were already exhausted. It honestly did not matter if he came back or not because, as said before, at least one supernatural creature was at your side. When he comes back, there would most likely be a bloodthirsty fight between two entities and you were sure as hell not going to get in the way by stopping the fight.

Well, there’s no use in moping around might as well just go back inside to make dinner for yourself. Walking towards your kitchen you go to pick up some food but before you could everything in your house was being knocked over.

“Seriously, again?!” You were honestly getting so sick of this. Your ghost admirer seemed to have barged into your home and was making a mess of it.

“If you’re going to stay here you might as well help me cook dinner” Honestly, the audacity of this man has you appalled. Out of all your obsessive admirers, the ghosts were definitely the most annoying. Every single day they always barge into your home and there’s nothing you can do about it because they can quite literally go through your walls.

“I’ll do it but only if you call me husband” he says lovingly as he starts to make his form appear visible to your eyes.

“Please, husband” And just like that, ingredients start to fly through the air. Hey, I mean who are you to deny free labor. If they're always going to make an appearance in your life might as well just make them useful.

After dinner, you decided to take a long needed bubble bath. Sometimes you wonder what life would be like if you were just a normal and average person. It didn’t really even matter anyways, it’s not like those wishes would ever become a reality.

Moving your way out of the bathroom you start to make your way to bed. As you lay there your eyes begin to droop and sleep begin to succumb to you.

It would have been a peaceful scene had it not been for the vampire staring at you through your window…

Pt.2