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sooniebby · 2 months ago

Text

ఌ 𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑

W.C › 12k

Warnings › bottom male reader. Reader is a bit immature. If you wanted an example of the bands music: Love Countdown vs Black Rose. Translations at the end. Some homophobia with a slur but very light. Unhinged OC, he’s crazy

Plot › This post I had but expanded.

Kinks › size difference, pain, possessive, lite spanking, toxic, dacryphilia, dubcon

Words to know › maknae (막내) — youngest. Hyung (형) — a term a younger male with call an older male. Jagiya/Jagi (자기야) — “sweetie/baby.” Seonbae (선배) — title of respect for someone in a higher position of you, usually work/school. Dongsaeng (동생) — little brother/sister, doesn’t have to be a biological sibling/can be a friend.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

안녕하세요, 러브카운다운입니다!

박도현

Leader, 1997, Bassist, main vocalist

신원식

1998, Guitarist, lead vocalist

유키

1999, Drummer

양준호

2000, keyboardist, lead vocalist

이영재

2002, guitarist, sub vocalist

초 (Name)

Maknae, (B.Year), guitarist, violinist, main vocalist

Festival performance this Friday at Yellow Wood University, 8 PM KST

A giddy grin spread on your lips as you looked at the social media post your company posted not even an hour ago. There were mainly positive comments, everyone excited to see you all live after listening to the debut album.

You debuted into Love Countdown just five months and your band was already getting love most bands would kill for.

Your music was certainly good but it did help most of your band mates were practically model material. Any type of fans were fine with you, even if all they cared about was one of your band mates abs.

The sound of the front door opening caught your attention as you exited out of Twitter and looked up. As with most groups, you lived in an apartment with your band mates. Lucky for you, your company wasn’t inhumane and forced six men to group in one small apartment.

You roomed with Junho and Young-Jae. While Dohyun, Yuki, and Won-Shik roomed together right next door.

“Hey, Hyung. You bought any dinner?” You asked, watching as Young-Jae only had to walk two steps to get into the kitchen. Hey, your company wasn’t that rich.

“Just pizza because I’m not buying your picky ass anything else ever again.” He said, placing it on the kitchen countertop. “Can’t believe you didn’t even attempt to eat the expensive Italian food I bought last time.”

“No one told you to buy me Italian food.” You rebutted, walking over to grab a slice.

“Ungrateful brat.”

“Love you too, Hyung.”

You grabbed two pizzas slices as Young-Jae put away the groceries he bought.

“Hey, is your violin tuned? Dohyun Hyung was on my ass because of what happened last time.”

Last time meaning you pulled out your violin to play a song from your album and it sounded like absolute shit. You were lucky the crowd found it cute and were just laughing as you hurriedly tried to tune the violin. The perks of being the cute maknae!

“Of course, I wouldn’t want Dohyun Hyung to spank you again.”

“He did not spank me, stop being weird.” Young-Jae rolled his eyes, reaching over to deliver a smack to the back your head. You cried out in pain as you glared at him.

“Do you know who else is playing at the festival? I didn’t pay attention when Manager Nayoung was talking.”

“Of course you didn’t. Mostly solo artists. I think a rock band is playing there… can’t remember their name. Starts… like uh…” Young-Jae sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Le..? No… Uh. Damn. It was something edgy.”

“Edgy?”

“Yeah. Their music is all rock and emo. The made the OST to that crime kdrama you watched. Seriously… their name isn’t long, why can’t I remember?”

“You’re getting old.”

Young-Jae looked up at you, his eyes narrowing. “Say that again?”

“What?”

“(Name)….”

“Hyung…”

You both stared at each other as a slight smirk pulled on your lips.

“You fucking……!”

“I’m home.”

The door opened just before Young-Jae could attack you. You shrieked and immediately ran to your savior, clinging to Junho. Junho was unfazed as he wrapped his free arm around your waist and tugged you close, closing the door with his foot.

“Pizza for dinner? Thanks.” Junho said, placing his bags down on the kitchen counter.

“Stop protecting that little shit, Hyung. I need to give him a spanking.” Young-Jae glared at you with a murderous intent in his eyes.

You giggled. “Oh~ so kinky Hyungie~! Should I pull my pants down?”

“You…!!!”

Junho maneuvered you away just as Young-Jae made an attempt to grab you. You wrapped your arm around Junho’s neck and grinned, sticking your tongue out at Young-Jae as a sign of victory.

“Hm, Junnie Hyung, do you know that emo band that’s playing at the festival this Friday?” You asked, looking up at Junho.

“Hm. Black Rose?”

Black Rose? Hm… Why did that sound familiar?

You were about to think more until your stomach growled.

Forget it. It’s probably nothing important anyway.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“Looking good boys. Your first ever festival performance. Let’s do great okay?! Fighting!” Manager Nayoung said as she patted you on the back.

You gave her a smile as you glanced at yourself in the mirror. There were hearts drawn over your nose, almost like freckles. Being the maknae meant you usually got the more cutesy makeup compared to the others.

Dohyun was always… more naked compared to everyone else. You glanced over at your leader and couldn’t help but stare at his ass. He was wearing a crop top with no sleeves, a waist chain and sinfully tight leather pants. You were almost jealous of his abs but also wanted to touch them again.

Your eyes flickered over to Young-Jae and you almost laughed to see him unabashedly staring right at Dohyun’s ass. You sauntered over to him and smacked his head.

“Hey, are you trying to burn a hole through his pants?” You whispered, snickering as Young-Jae’s face practically turned red.

“Shut it!” He weakly retorted, turning his attention to the mirror to fix his dyed red hair. “I was just looking at his outfit. The stylists love putting him tight clothing. What if he’s uncomfortable?”

You hummed. “Dohyun Hyung!”

“Hey—!”

“Yes,” Dohyun looked up from the book he was reading, smiling over at you. He had red lipstick with dark eyeliner that brought out the blue colored contacts he wore. He’s lucky he’s handsome, blue contacts just freak you out.

“Are you uncomfortable in your pants?”

“Hm, no? I won’t be moving much anyway.” He answered. “Why?”

“Just asking!”

You turned back around to see a furious Young-Jae staring at you. You only giggled. “See? He’s fine. You’re just enjoying his ass.”

“I hate you.”

“Love you too, Hyungie~!”

A tap on your shoulder caught your attention as you turned back to see Yuki behind you. He was wearing a more tamed version of Dohyun’s outfit with lighter makeup. “Some snacks I stole from the staff table.” He handed you a chocolate bar, a bag of chips, and a soda.

“What about me?” Young-Jae asked.

“What about you? Love you, (Name).” Yuki patted you on the head before walking away to join Junho on the couch. Favoritism. You loved being the maknae.

You smirked. “Maybe try being cuter. Then your hyungs will want to take care of you.”

“I’m going to smother you in your sleep.”

“Kinky~!”

Young-Jae rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the mirror, fixing his collar. “I’m not even sure why we’re dressed like this. Our concept isn’t this dark.”

“It’s just for the event. Manager Nayoung was telling me that the event organizers wanted a darker theme.”

“Our songs are literally all about being in love and being happy. We have no emo or rock songs.”

“Stop complaining. At least they still wanted us. We’re first for a reason. We just need to get everyone upbeat.”

You glanced over at Young-Jae, taking in his outfit. It was similar to yours. A white lace shirt with black detailing. Basic black slacks with combat boots. Except he had a choker while you had a necklace. The hearts across your nose were red, brightening your face in comparison to the dark eyeliner.

Won-Shik and Junho had similar outfits as well, an inverse of yours and Young-Jae. You preferred the more colorful clothing you wore during your regular performances but it is what it is. As you flicked at a lint on your cheek, the door to the dressing room opened.

“You’re going to preform in twenty minutes, boys. Get going!”

As your band mates got ready to set up their instruments, you saw the next band come in to get dressed. And to your horror, a familiar face walked right in.

Kim Ye-Jun.

You felt your heart drop to your ass as you stared at him. He didn’t seem to notice you at first, busy directing his band mates to get dressed. It wasn’t until he turned around that he froze at the sight of you.

“Let’s go, (Name)-Ah.” Young-Jae said, grabbing your arm as he began to pull you out of the room. Your gaze was still locked on Ye-Jun before you quickly turned away, the memories of him flooding your brain.

That fucking dick. He’s in that band?!

Shit. You wanted to delete their OST off your playlist stat. Why were they even playing at such a small event, they weren’t mainstream by any means but they were big in the band scene.

“Violin tuned?” Dohyun suddenly asked as you assumed your position, fixing the mic to your height.

“Yea. It’s tuned…”

“You okay? You look like you saw a ghost.”

You wished he was a ghost.

“I’ll be fine. Just a little nervous.”

Dohyun took your word for it and simply patted you on the back, turning his attention back to his own mic. It only took a few minutes before the MC was announcing the band and the yells from the crowd increased.

You stood tall, clutching the guitar to your chest just as the lights shined on you all. Dohyun began his usual speech while you couldn’t help but smile at attention. A few girls were screaming your name!

Yuki tapped his drumsticks together before starting off the beat. You were only going to be performing five songs so you weren’t worried in the slightest. Of course you forgot you were the one that started this song off.

Despite the slight hiccup and Dohyun’s swift glare at you, you continued on, earning a few giggles from the crowd. As you played, you didn’t notice the pair of eyes watching you from the side of the stage.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“You were great, boys! I think you gained some new fans,” Nayoung said, handing each of you a bottle water. “Go get changed and enjoy the rest of the festival! Do anything to get fans.”

Won-Shik smirked as he wrapped his arm around your neck, “anything?” You grinned, rolling your eyes.

“Absolute not! Get your mind out of the gutter!” Nayoung yelled, glaring at Won-Shik. “Yuki, watch him! I don’t want a scandal before you’re even a year old yet! Matter of fact, stick with one other person.”

Young-Jae groaned. “Guess I’m stuck with you,” he said, glaring at you.

You smirked before glancing over at Dohyun as he began wiping off his makeup. “Well… Dohyun Hyung!”

“What do you—!”

“—Can you pair with Jae Hyung? I wanna hang out with Junnie Hyung!”

“You little—!!!”

“—Sure. You okay with spending time with me Jae-Ah? I don’t think I’ll be much fun.” Dohyun laughed, turning over to face you and Young-Jae. His makeup was smudge now—lipstick off completely. His eyes resembling deer eyes by how round they were. Boba eyes, that’s what Won-Shik called them once.

Because of how perverted you were, you couldn’t help but imagine if that’s how he would look after having sex.

A quick glance at Young-Jae told you he was thinking the same thing.

“C..Course, Hyung!! You’re great, amazing even! I mean… you’re great to hang out with… Yeah… I’ll go change.” Young-Jae grabbed his duffle bag and quickly sprinted to the bathroom.

“What’s with him?”

You shrugged, “Dunno. Maybe he has diarrhea.”

“Oh no… I’ll get him some tea.” Dohyun said, taking you seriously. Before you could even tell him it was a joke he already left the dressing room. You sighed and rubbed the bridge of your nose. He was so weirdly naive sometimes.

A tap on your shoulder caught your attention as you looked over to see Junho smiling at you. “You gonna change or go out like that?” He was already changed—dressed in a black t-shirt with washed out jeans. His styled hair purposely brushed out, now just a brown mop on his head.

“No, I’ll change. Wait for me, Hyungie!” You blew him a kiss that he quickly caught, laughing.

You and Junho seamlessly blended into the crowd of college students as a the next band began to play. Black Rose had already played while you were getting undressed so you ended up missing it.

You tried to ignore the odd feeling in your stomach at the disappointment you weren’t fast enough. But you didn’t care! You didn’t…

Certainly not.

“Shots?” Junho suddenly asked, leaning down to rest his chin on your shoulder. You hummed in agreement. He left and was quick to come back with two shots. About an hour passed on you just listening to each act perform before the DJ came out and everyone started dancing.

The cool October breeze made you shiver as you felt Junho wrap his arms around you. You grinned and turned around to press your chest against him. Junho was not only taller than you but muscular in comparison—having worked out religiously with Dohyun and Won-Shik.

He was warm so you eagerly pressed as close as possible against him, burying your face in his chest. Junho simply swayed to the upbeat noise music. If the music wasn’t there, people would’ve assumed you both were slow dancing to a ballad.

“Feed me a shot?” You suddenly asked, tilting your head back.

“What are you, a baby?”

“Yup, your baby.”

Junho simply hummed as he used his free hand to grab your face, keeping it still as he slowly tipped the plastic cup’s rim against your lips. You squeezed at his shirt as the cool liquid rushed down your throat, causing you the cough once you swallowed.

“Wow… again!” You laughed, ignoring the judgmental look Junho gave you.

“You’re so weird, (Name)-Ah. I’ll be back, stay right here.” His hand trailed down your waist before he pulled away, poking you on the cheek as he walked away. You hummed and swayed slightly, feeling a bit buzzed from the amount of shots you took by now.

You subconsciously began to whisper the lyrics to one of your songs when a hand wrapped itself around your wrist. The words couldn’t even leave your mouth before you’re tugged away from the crowd. You whined and was about to scream when one of the street lamps illuminated your attacker.

Kim Ye-Jun.

A groan left your lips, no longer feeling the need to put up a fight. At least it’s not a saesang.

Ye-Jun dragged you all the way back go where the dressing room was. You assumed he was going to drag you in there but he suddenly took a sharp left turn and pulled open the storage closet, shoving you inside. A gasp left your lips as you bumped into the wall, groaning in pain.

Your eyes felt heavy, especially with the bright ceiling light shining down on you. “Seriously..? I was about to get another shot!”

He didn’t say anything, his eyes narrowing at you.

You bristled, standing up straight. “What?! I’m of legal age, dick. Anyway, I need to go back before my friends start worrying about me.” You moved to push past him but he grabbed your shoulder and slammed you right back against the wall.

The force knocked you sober as you stared at Ye-Jun in shock. “What.. What the fuck is your problem?!”

“I thought you wanted to be an Idol.” Ye-Jun suddenly said.

You tilted your head. “Wha..? The company thought I fit the band aesthetic better. Besides, I can’t dance well anyway. Why do you even care? You could’ve asked me this in front of everyone else..”

Ye-Jun stared at you for a moment, as if he was thinking about what to say. You took the moment to really take him in. He was taller than you, his buzz cut had grown out from university, though still short and spiky. A worn out leather jacket with a wife beater. Leather pants that hugged his thighs. Wow, he was working out.

You shook your head. Nope, you weren’t about to fall back into his arms. “Well, if you’re just gonna stare at me, you can follow our band’s instagram. I post on there. It’s TheRealLoveCountdown.”

A bitter laugh left Ye-Jun just as you were about to push him. You wanted to ask what’s his problem was when he surged forward and slammed his lips against yours. A strangled gasp left you and your hands quickly moved to push him away. But he was stronger, grabbing your wrists as he slammed them against the wall.

He kissed you hungrily, pressing his crotch against yours. You couldn’t help the soft moans that left your throat as he bit your lip. The pain sent a shockwave through your spine. His hands released your wrists and shoved themselves into your jeans.

“Kim Ye-Jun!” You managed to stutter out as you pulled away from the kiss. He paid you no mind, grabbing a fist full of your ass. An embarrassing whine left your lips as finger teased your hole.

“Why are you speaking respectfully?”

“Aren’t you my seonbae now? You debuted first.”

Ye-Jun looked down at you, his grip tightening on your ass. “Seonbae? I told you to call me Hyung.”

“You lost that privilege, Seonbae. We aren’t friends.”

“Mhm,” Ye-Jun hummed. “Yeah, you weren’t ever a friend. You’re mine.”

You shivered and felt your hips buck against his, your bulge rubbing against his own. Ye-Jun smirked as he pulled you, hands gripping your waist, as he turned you around. A grunt left you as you’re pushed against the wall.

The feeling of cool air touches your lower half before you can even complain. He pulled your fucking pants down. You gasped as he pried your ass open and you felt a puff of air tease your hole.

“You… Yah, what the hell do you think you’re doing, bastard?!”

The air stilled in the closet as your lips pressed into a tight thin line. Oh god. You really said that.

“Sae…kki…ya?” Ye-Jun whispered, his grip loosening on your skin. You were grateful that your back was facing him so you couldn’t see the face he must be making.

Young-Jae was right. You really needed to work on having a filter.

“I’m a son of a bitch? I’ll fucking show you a son of a bitch, Cho (Name).”

It was silent for a moment—you almost believed Ye-Jun was getting ready to leave when you felt two fingers shove themselves inside your hole. The fingers were slick so it wasn’t in there dry but the intrusions felt like it was the worst thing you could ever experience.

Ye-Jun waited for a moment before slowing flexing his index and pointer finger inside. You grunted and gripped at the wall for some type of purpose. What the hell was he looking for?

A guttural scream left your throat as his fingers rub against your prostate. You whimpered, rubbing your thighs together as you looked behind to try and get a look at Ye-Jun.

His head was down so you could only see his hair. He patted your ass before leaning forward and pressing his lips against your right ass cheek. It felt oddly sweet—it almost made you short circuit.

Until you felt teeth sinking into your skin.

“Fuck!” You cried out, pressing your head against the wall as his fingers began to repeatedly press against your prostate. His teeth felt sharp on your skin as if he was biting to break skin.

Ye-Jun didn’t allow you to breathe or take in the pleasure, pumping his fingers to attack and abuse your prostate. He moved to your left ass cheek and left a matching bite mark—you were sure that one broke skin.

You weren’t even sure how long it had been. Your legs were shaky as you had to use your hands to keep yourself help. The leaking from your dejectedly cock made you whimper at being unable to bring yourself to true pleasure.

There were bite marks not just on your ass but on your thighs. You had weakly tried to keep him off but he easily stopped you with a painfully slow rub against your prostate that sent you into a frenzy.

It was building—the tell tale sign of you reaching your peak. Your toes curled as you hiccuped. You didn’t even notice you were crying.

Just as you felt the orgasm coming to its peak… Ye-Jun pulled away.

You whined, looking back at him in shock as he wiped his fingers on your t-shirt. He looked unbothered as he fixed his clothes. His eyes flickered over to you when you made another pathetic whine to get his attention. It almost hurt to talk. He only smirked.

“You can take care of the rest, right?” He asked, his lips moving into a slight snarl as his eyes narrowed. “Or maybe call that band mate of yours. You were practically on his dick earlier.”

Your eyes widen as you watched him leave, slamming the door shut behind him. You slid down the wall and could only just sit there in pure shock.

The dryness of your throat was beginning to affect you as you reached down to pull your boxers up.

You just wanted to go home.

❝ 목이 메어 ❞

It had been two weeks since the “incident” and you had made a clear effort to never listen to Black Rose. You blocked them everywhere—going as far as to block them on your other members phones as well.

Yuki and Won-Shik didn’t seem to care that much.

Young-Jae called you insane.

While Junho and Dohyun were the only two that seemed worried about your behavior.

Which led to now. You were curled up on Dohyun’s bed as he sat at his desk, working on some lyrics for your comeback that was four months away. He always liked getting ahead in work. The band wouldn’t start recording until December. It was only November 3rd.

The lyrics were technically done and approved by the company but Dohyun was always a perfectionist so everyone had let him be at this point.

Junho was beside you on the bed, occasionally giving Dohyun some of his opinions on the lyrics.

This album was going to be more ballad heavy. Focusing solely on heartbreak and toxic relationships. You almost scoffed to yourself.

You had so many lyrics you wanted to put but knew they would end up being too personal so you kept them in your journal for safe keeping.

“Oh, we’re trending on Twitter…” Junho suddenly said, earning both yours and Dohyun’s attention.

“What? What did we do?” Dohyun questioned, quickly moving to sit on the bed. You sat up and curled close to Junho, worried that someone on a random forum made an insane rumor that the Korean netizens would eat up in a heartbeat.

“Oh, it’s mainly (Name)-Ah and that guy from Black Rose.”

Your heart dropped to your ass. “W..Why?!”

Junho glanced down at you curiously before showing you a Twitter post that had almost 20k likes. He soon clicked on the link of the forum posts that was talking about it.

@_Dohyungotafatty (↑4599 ↓235)

↳ guys, have yall seen who’s been liking (Name)’s posts on Instagram??

Below the text was a collage of your Instagram posts on the band’s account. You and Yuki were the only ones that really posted selfies religiously. But it wasn’t the pictures that caught people’s attention.

No it was the fact that the account that seemed to like every single one of your selfies was no other than fucking Kim Ye-Jun.

You balked. You didn’t think he had a public Instagram account that didn’t belong to the company. Fuck, you should’ve checked!!! Of course an older group had more freedom than your own.

You couldn’t even try to assume it was someone else. The next reply to the post was someone clicking on the account and lo and behold, Ye-Jun’s face showed up in the accounts posts.

They even showed that the official band account was following him—as well as his other band members.

Yeah… that was him.

@BRkim_yejun — 589k followers, 6 following

The video checked his following and he was even following the band’s account. You groaned, rubbing the bridge of your nose in annoyance.

“He likes Yuki’s posts too right..? It’s not just me!” You muttered, scrolling to see the other accounts.

@junhoswhore (↑239 ↓26)

↳ if (Name) was a girl, netizens would’ve started a dating rumor ㅋㅋㅋㅋ

@jaesflatass (↑102 ↓34)

↳ he doesn’t even likes Yuki’s posts. He wants him so bad ㅋㅋㅋㅋ

@yukiwukii (↑20 ↓2)

↳ aren’t they alumnis from the same university??

@lovewonshiik (↑1020 ↓125)

↳ girl they’re college dropouts ㅋㅋㅋ

@_loveandfear (↑409 ↓89)

↳ Ye-Jun doesn’t even like his own members posts. He must really like Cho (Name). I wanna see them interact!!

@freakfundashi (↑2987 ↓3082)

↳ I wanna see them fuck on stage

“Okay that’s enough.” Dohyun suddenly said, grabbing Junho phone as he exited out of the forum. “You shouldn’t pay attention to them. They’re just weirdos. What does ‘Dohyun got a fatty’ even mean?”

Junho glanced over at you. You both tried to hold in your laughter.

“I’m not sure, Hyung. I can ask around.”

Dohyun shook his head. “I don’t think I even want to know. Anyway, do you know Kim Ye-Jun, (Name)-Ah? He seems to know you.”

“Yeah, why would you block the Black Rose account if you know him? You aren’t friends?”

You blushed slightly as you tried to come up with an excuse. “We.. we did go to the same college but I dropped out to pursue music. I lost contact with him after that! I wouldn’t even say we were friends.. we were just both music majors!”

Junho and Dohyun didn’t seem too convinced but they got the message that this was all you were going to tell them at the moment.

“If you do feel uncomfortable around him, I can block him, y’know? I want my maknae to be comfortable.” Junho said, leaning over to caress your cheek. You leaned into his touch and hummed in appreciation.

Ye-Jun’s words suddenly got to you. The hyung he was talking about had to be Junho. But you don’t remember ever being on his “dick.” You didn’t like Junho romantically. Besides, you were pretty sure him and Yuki had something going on despite their attempts of being discrete.

Won-Shik seemed to be the resident straight man of the band.

“Manager Nayoung can always speak to Black Rose’s manager and make them get Ye-Jun to back off as well. Just tell us, alright?” Dohyun said, rubbing your head.

You gave him a grin that wasn’t forced and cuddled closer to Junho’s touch. Ye-Jun would probably back off sooner or later. It wasn’t like you would have to see him again any time soon.

Oh how wrong you were.

❝ 매달려 봤는데 상처 발더러고 ❞

The memory is hazy by now, but you still remember the exact date, time, and weather when you first met Kim Ye-Jun.

November 3rd, 20XX. 5:30 pm. Heavy rain and scattered thunderstorms.

You had just came from school, wanting to just plop down on bed and cry. Your future uncertain with your parents refusal to allow you to try out at a company to pursue your dreams on being a musician.

Your umbrella was big, a bit hard to hold upright because of how old it was. There was a hole in it that allowed small drops of rain to drip on your shoulder. You couldn’t even afford to pay for a new one. The wind suddenly picked up just as you were getting to cross the street.

“Shit…!” Your grip loosened as the wind folded your umbrella upwards. It slipped from your grip and twirled across the crosswalk. You made the step to run after it until a hand grabbed your wrist and pulled you right back onto the curb.

A car breezed past you, splashing water over you and your savior. You coughed as the savior pressed you against their chest. They were saying something but it wasn’t hard to hear anything in the heavy rain.

You looked up, pushing away the wet hair that clung to your face. There he was: Kim Ye-Jun. A shaved head while dressed in a Korean military uniform. He looked young but you knew lots of boys your age that were going to do their Korean service before college to get it over with.

The first meeting hardly meant anything to Kim Ye-Jun while it meant everything to you. He released his grip on your waist and bent down to grab your backpack, handing it over to you.

Before you could even say anything else, he handed over his umbrella. You tried to refuse but he forced your hand open and wrapped it around the handle. You watched with wide eyes as he reached up and wiped something off your face before pulling away.

You were so happy that the rain hid the fact you were crying just a few minutes earlier. But judging by the soft smile he gave you, your red eyes must’ve given it away.

Your eyes flickered to his name tag just as he was leaving, sprinting away to what you assumed was the nearby convenience store.

❝ 김예준 ❞

You would see him again at your college welcoming party. He was also a freshman just like you despite being twenty years old. A few freshman teased him about it while he just laughed it off, saying they’re gonna wish they got their service over with.

You didn’t originally want to seek him out, worried he wouldn’t even remember you. But he ended up speaking to you first. Those first nine months you spent with him almost felt like a dream.

He wasn’t your first kiss but he was your first boyfriend, your first time, the first boy you believed you could spend a lifetime with.

But it seemed you were the only one who thought that.

“Cho (Name)? Is he your boyfriend or something? He’s so clingy with you.”

“I don’t know how you do it! He acts so childish, it’s gross. Just because you’re gay doesn’t mean you need to act like a fag. I’m gay and I act fucking normal.”

“Does he even know about the band you got accepted in? Whenever I see you guys interact, it’s literally all about him! He hardly lets you speak.”

You expected Ye-Jun to say something in your defense.

“Yeah… He’s clingy. I didn’t expect him to be when we started hanging out.”

“—Hanging out? You’re not even dating him? You’re fuck buddies?”

“Well it’s only been nine months. We’ve only been fucking. He just whines a lot about his parents before I can even talk. The only way he stops is when we fuck.”

“Really? Why do you even keep him around?”

“Nine months is a long time, haha. It has to be sex, right??”

“He makes me feel good about myself. Plus he is cute despite how annoying he can be—”

“—How is he in bed? Whiny? Bet he’s a slut—”

You couldn’t take it anymore, walking away from the wall as you rubbed at your face. Fuck buddies. You were Kim Ye-Jun’s fuck buddy.

A bitter laugh left you as you pulled your phone, opening website you were on earlier. It was auditions for a new company. If Ye-Jun thought all you did was complain, you would show him you have drive.

You blocked his number and signed up for the audition, dropping out of school the next week. Your parents disowned you but you pushed through, staying at your aunt’s before you got the acceptance call.

It’s just a shame you had to see him again after four years.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

‘ COMEBACK ’ 러브카운다운 - Love’s Fool

After an intense music video recording, it was released three hours ago. It was your groups first comeback so to say you were nervous was an understatement. The music video was different from the debut’s sunshine and happy vibes from the single debut album.

This 1st mini album, named after the title track, was darker and certainly more depressing. Though it seemed the fans were eating it up. A few even saying they cried to the song.

You straightened your back as the hair stylist pulled at your hair. It was the first performance at a music show. Online so many fans were staying they were going to get the band its first music show win so you couldn’t help but feel giddy at the thought.

Switching the phone onto the camera, you held it up and smiled, taking a few pictures. You immediately posted them onto Instagram, choosing the ones where you looked the cutest. It was only a second before the first like came in.

@BRkim_yejun liked your post

You almost threw your phone. But that wasn’t the worst. He actually commented. In the past three months that’s he’s been religiously liking your posts, and only yours, he’s never commented on it.

@BRkim_yejun commented : 귀여워, 자기야… 셀키 더 찍어 주세요… 뽀뽀하고 싶어요 ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

Kiss?? You almost passed out as you reread his comment over and over again. You couldn’t believe he was asking for more selfies! You’re just happy he didn’t use “키스” as that would’ve been too romantic. But the nerve to call you jagiya was pissing you off. You haven’t been his baby in few years now!

@TheRealLoveCountdown responded : 꺼져

Sure, it’s petty to tell him to go away but you weren’t feeling generous to be nice right now. You turned off your phone and placed it on the table in front of you. The hair stylist had finally finished your hair as she walked away. Dohyun came up to you, smiling slightly.

“(Name)-Ah, you okay? That’s the first time he commented on your post right?”

“Yeah… But it’s fine, I told him to go away. Maybe he’ll listen.”

Dohyun only chuckled in response. He leaned down and wrapped his arms around you as he rubbed his cheek against yours. You giggled and basked in his warmth, sighing in relief.

But you couldn’t stop your mind from wandering about how Ye-Jun used to hug you just like this. Especially when you were slaving away on your assignments and he wanted you to take a break.

He’d press kisses on your neck before your cheek, inching close to your lips before pressing a wet slobbery kiss on your lips. Because that would always disgust you and make you chase after him to deliver another wet slobbery dog kiss on his cheeks.

Then he’d always hug you close on the couch and force you to watch tv. He’d always get you. And you’d always fall asleep in his arms.

“Are you method acting again? No one’s expecting us to cry on stage, dumbass.”

You flinched as a napkin taps at the edge of your eyes. You glanced over to see Young-Jae gently dapping the tears away before they have the chance to fall and ruin your makeup. Dohyun just tightens his hug and comfortingly rubbed your shoulders before pulling away.

“Thanks, Hyungie~!” You grinned, moving to pull Young-Jae into a hug that he swiftly dodged.

“You’re not messing up my outfit! Stay back!”

“Hyung… I want to hug you!!! Come here!!”

“Stay back, Cho (Name)!!!”

The performance was great if you had to toot your own horn. This was one of the first songs that you played the violin for entirely—the other time it was sort of a gimmick. You even had a violin solo with Junho’s keyboard.

Now it was wining down time. You took another selfie, even one with Won-Shik and Young-Jae. Young-Jae practically never posted so you usually forced him to join your selfies for his starving fans.

You tried to ignore the weird feeling in your heart when Ye-Jun didn’t immediately like your post. You didn’t care! Nope… You did not.

But you didn’t stop yourself as you typed in the Black Rose Instagram to check the account. You had unblocked a month ago at the request of Nayoung since it looked weird on your part when there’s no history between you and the band.

There wasn’t much pictures beside promotional material. Photos for their comeback. It was only five members, Ye-Jun as the leader but he wasn’t the oldest. You wondered if this was the band he was talking about back then.

@TheBlackRose

(블랙로즈) 4.9M Followers 6 Following

Six following? You clicked on it and sat up straight on the couch to see that the account was following Love Countdown! Though the fact they were so close to five million followers shocked you. They really were popular. Love Countdown only reached 320k followers just recently.

Did Ye-Jun make the account follow you? You tried to push away the giddy feeling in your chest. Deciding you had nothing to lose, you checked the band members account.

@BRpark_shion

(박시온) 518k Followers 5 following

@BRim_roha

(임로하) 538k followers 6 following

@BRseo_minji

(서민지) 515k followers 5 following

@BRhwang_hanbin

(황한빈) 529k followers 5 following

“Roha..?” You muttered, confused on why he was following the account as well.

“Who’s Roha?”

You jumped, looking up to see Yuki sitting down beside you. “Yuki Hyung! Ah.. I was just..”

“Snooping?” He chuckled, leaning over. “Im Roha? Oh, he’s cute.”

“Who’s cute?!” Junho suddenly asked, turning his head abruptly from his phone. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re cuter, Junnie.” Yuki placated, snickering. “Very Kawaii.”

“Oh! Yuki, can you still teach me Japanese? I want to be confident in my pronunciation for our Japanese debut!” You asked, subtly trying to change the conversation.

“Yea.” He said, pushing back his overgrown bangs. “But I still want to know what you’re doing. I thought you hated Black Rose.”

“I do! I really hate them…”

“Or do you hate Kim Ye-Jun? Did he do something to you?”

You frowned. The word hate next to Ye-Jun’s name made you upset. Despite everything, you couldn’t hate him. Fuck, you were pathetic.

“He just… We just ended things badly. But it’s mostly my own fault. I thought we were something special—he didn’t think the same.”

Yuki blinked for a moment as if he was taking in your words. “Oh. You dated him?”

“Wha?! How’d you?!”

“What else could you have meant?” Yuki chuckled. “Do you wanna stay at Hyung’s tonight? We can have a movie marathon.”

You grinned, nodding your head. “Mhm. I would like that.”

The door to the dressing room opened as the next group to preform came in. Dohyun and the others had already gotten ready to leave so they moved to the side so the group could get ready. Much to your shock, it was the Black Rose.

Your eyes stopped on Roha. He was tall, slim, with dyed purple hair. Your body flinched when his eyes fell on yours and a grin pulled on his lips as he waved to you.

Roha looked so familiar but you just couldn’t put your finger on it. Was he from your university? It’s been five years at this point. You shook your head, deciding it wasn’t important.

You grabbed your bag and stood up, looking over at Junho. The others were already leaving.

“Junnie Hyung—”

“—Yes?”

“—Yeah?”

Your body froze as a voice was heard behind you. Junho looked up confused at who else would answer to your call. You didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was. Before Junho, you had called someone else “Junnie Hyung.”

Yeah, Kim Ye-Jun.

“You call him my name?” Ye-Jun suddenly said, walking right up in front of you. Your eyes quickly looked down. Embarrassment swirled in your stomach as you felt Junho’s and Ye-Jun’s eyes on you as they waited for you to speak.

You took a deep breath and managed to look up at him. “Yeah… he’s my hyung.. and his name is Junho. So, Junnie Hyung. You’re not the only man named Jun.”

Ye-Jun laughed, a smirk playing on his lips. “I don’t remember allowing you to do that. His name is Junho, yeah? So call him Junho Hyung.”

“Uhm,” Junho muttered, a look of confusion on his face. His brows furrowed as his lips pulled into a frown. “I don’t like how you’re speaking to my dongsaeng.”

“Dongsaeng?” Ye-Jun tilted his head before turning his attention back over to you. “Cute. That’s real cute. (Name)-Ah, my number hasn’t changed. I’ll be waiting, Jagiya.”

He gave a slight nod at Junho before walking away to join his members to get his hair and makeup down. Junho looked more confused than angry as he glanced over at you.

“Jagiya?”

You blushed. “He’s just.. teasing me! Yeah.. he didn’t mean it.”

A tap on your shoulder caught your attention. You looked over to see Roha grinning at you.

“(Name), my number is the same as well, okay? Talk to you later.” Roha lovingly patted your head before walking away.

Junho blinked. “Wow. I thought you didn’t know anyone in Black Rose.”

“Me neither…”

You were so fucking screwed.

Why was your heart beating so fast?

❝ 진지하진 않잖아 가벼운 간보기잖아 ❞

You unblocked him. Mainly because you had no back bone. You laid on Yuki’s bed, wondering if you should text first. Yuki had some Jpop song playing as he folded up his laundry. He had dumped it on his bed a few days ago but didn’t really do it until you were now gonna stay the night.

“Is it normal to still have feelings for your ex..? Oh well, ex fuck buddy.”

“Yeah. If you really loved him.” Yuki said, muttering something to himself in Japanese before putting away the last of his clothes. He turned off his music and sat down on the bed.

You frowned and sat up. “I’m so confused. He hurt me. He.. He said I complained too much. I was clingy… I didn’t let him speak in our relationship. Said I only shut up when he fucked me…”

“Maybe he was right. Maybe you weren’t the best boyfriend.”

“What?”

Yuki gave you a small smile. “Even if you weren’t, he should’ve talked to you. He should’ve told you instead of bad mouth you to your friends. And.. maybe you should’ve spoken to him about how you were feeling instead of just ghosting him.”

“I… Well he embarrassed me in front of his friends.”

“He was wrong for that. But how can a relationship work if you let one problem ruin it?”

You frowned. Yuki was making sense and you didn’t necessarily want that right now.

“You don’t have to get back with him. He did hurt you. Not everyone can forgive something like that. But how old were you when you dated him?”

“Eighteen…”

“First ever relationship?”

“Mhm…”

“Well, I hope in those five years you know that you can’t just go silent during a relationship problem. You had the right to cuss him out but to also see if you could fix the problem he was feeling.”

“Man… I was hoping you would’ve just let me complain. I didn’t want this philosophical shit.”

Yuki grinned. “You should’ve went to Won-Shik Hyung if you wanted to complain. Do you want to text him?”

You glanced over at your phone, sighing. “Maybe.. But he was acting really weird before we left. He got mad at Junho Hyung because I called him Junnie Hyung.”

Yuki smirked. “He’s just jealous. Then he really does still like you. Wah, you have yourself a possessive boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” You whined, biting your lip.

“He probably doesn’t think that way. I’ll pick the movie while you text your honey.”

You glared at Yuki but still grabbed your phone, staring at the contact of Kim Ye-Jun. It still had a heart on the name. The name proudly written in as “주니형.” You exited out of his contact and went to look at the other blocked numbers you had. It was mostly spam until a familiar named showed up.

Im Suyoung.

Im…

A gasp left your lips. Suyoung was Ye-Jin’s friend, they were practically brothers. You had gotten close to Suyoung by association but soon felt as if he was the big brother you never had. There was a distant memory you had when he said he wanted to change his name to something cooler.

Roha.

Ah. You unblocked his number and saw the loads of messages that didn’t end up going through to you. It had stopped four years ago. But before, it was loads of them asking where you were, if you’re okay, if something had happened to you.

The last message made you laugh at how stupid it was.

↳ Ye-Jun’s worried. He’s going crazy over a nine month relationship, what did you do to him? ㅎㅎ He’s gonna find you one day, (Name)-Ah, be ready.

Find you? Be ready? What the hell was Ye-Jun gonna do to you? You were mainly shocked that he was even going crazy over you being gone. Why would he care when he himself said you were “hanging out?”

You sighed, sending a quick message to Roha to tell him he’s unblocked. Your fingers moved on their own and you found yourself on Ye-Jun’s contact. The profile picture was of him and you, faces pressed together as you grinned at the camera while Ye-Jun looked as if he was mid grimace, eyes squeezed shut from the flash.

You scrolled up to five years ago, to the day you had blocked him. It was tamed for a moment until Ye-Jun seemed to notice his texts weren’t going through.

It was panic after that. Multiple texts with spams if you’re dead, if you’re okay, that he’s freaking out. You couldn’t help but laugh. It felt surreal to see this side of him. After a few months, he only kept sending hello, as if checking everyday to see when you’d unblock him.

A few times he’d type a message. Asking if you ate, if you’re doing okay wherever you are. The next year, he started sending pictures. It was of him and the band. He was talking about how nervous he was being the leader.

Ye-Jun never took selfies, he hated pictures which was why most pictures of him he had a grimace or frown.

But the ones he was sending you, he smiled. Well, as best as he could. It looked forced but you still felt giddy that he was trying.

You scrolled through the messages until finding one on the day of the festival at the university.

↳ you didn’t move on, right? You wouldn’t move on, Jagiya… put cream on the bite marks, I don’t want you to scar. Don’t get so close to that bean pole with the fried hair again, okay? It made me upset ㅠㅠ

↳ you know how to piss me off, Jagi. I wanna keep you locked up so you won’t ever run away from me again. Hah, Love Countdown is a cute name. I wish I went to your debut performance. I think I’m insane at this point, Jagi. Nine month relationship and I’m acting like this ㅋㅋㅋㅋ

↳ it’s weird, I liked seeing you cry. Back then, when that bastard called you a slut I almost killed him ㅋㅋ … I like putting you in your place. If it’s just an act, it’s okay right?

“Back then… Did he… Did he defend me after I left?” You whispered, shame suddenly rose in your heart.

“Hm?” Yuki asked, looking back over at you.

“Nothing… Nothing. Did you find the movie?”

“Not yet.”

You scrolled down, the rest of the messages going back to being little tidbits on his day to date life. It wasn’t until you made it to today that you tried to read what he sent.

↳ Junnie Hyung to another man? Jagi, are you trying to piss me off??? I’ve been staying calm these past for months when all I’ve wanted to do was drag you home and punish you for abandoning me for five years

↳ don’t do that again… you are always mine, no man should be touching you again like he did. I don’t know what made you leave me, but I hope you know I’m never letting you out of my sight ever again

↳ …Those pants you wore on stage were nice. can you buy your own pair, Jagiya? I wanna tear them off you.

↳ you unblocked me?

A gasp left your lips. What the fuck? How did he already know that? You watched as he began typing, the three dots causing unnecessary panic in your heart.

↳ Did you eat?

Huh? You waited to see if he’d send anything else but he didn’t. It took a moment but you soon replied with a sort yes. The anxiety was building within you and you wanted to just block him again. But your heart wanted him back. Even if the messages he was sending you were insane to the normal person.

It was radio silence before he sent a picture.

It was of him in what you could assume was his bedroom. He was lying on his bed and an LED light illuminated his face. His hair messy while a slight smile pulled on his lips. You couldn’t help but smile.

You wanted to ask about that day. If maybe after you left, he realized he wanted you. That maybe he just didn’t know how to word his feelings properly.

But you felt as if it would be better in person. So, you did what you thought was the best response. You sent a selfie to him, making sure to smile.

It didn’t even take a minute before he started sending hearts. He usually never reacted like this before whenever you sent selfies. Did he change when you were gone?

Roha was right. He did go insane when you left him.

“Found the movie. You better leave before you even think about sexting him.” Yuki suddenly said, laying down on the bed.

You blushed. “What?! I wasn’t going to sext him!!”

Though you were feeling giddy at the thought of being close to him again. You couldn’t help but feel a bit worried about how… odd Ye-Jun was acting.

He really did change. And you weren’t sure if it was for the better.

❝ 이러면 안 되는데 머리론 아는데 ❞

It had only been a week and you had kept a small conversation going with Ye-Jun—he texted you every morning and night. He was more confident as well. Leading to the incident that happened a few days ago.

Black Rose had won on the fan voting for the music show win. Everyone on stage was clapping as Black Rose came to the center to grab the reward. You and your band mates were close so you were right in arms reach when Ye-Jun came over to you.

“Thanks to all of our fans for voting. I’m happy I get to make my dongsaeng proud with our twentieth music show win on our four year anniversary.” Ye-Jun said, wrapping his arms around your waist as he pulled you close.

He kept his attention on the camera recording him. “Please send some love to my dongsaeng’s group, Love Countdown!” He squeezed you tightly before pressing a quick peck on your cheek, earning yells from the crowd.

Your band mates, and Black Rose themselves, looked absolutely shocked to say the least.

Including Korean forums not even a day later.

@_Dohyungotafatty (↑645 ↓320)

↳ dongsaeng my ass.. they fucking ㅋㅋㅋㅋ

@jaesflatass (↑236 ↓67)

↳ he wanted to call him Jagiya so bad…

@junhoswhore (↑127 ↓378)

↳ I know skinship is normal but I’ve never wanted to kiss my homies

@_loveandfear (↑564 ↓24)

↳ you not a real homie then. I love kissing my boys good night. Tongue action too

@yukiwukii (↑764 ↓203)

↳ he’s so gay, i wanna call him the f slur ㅠㅠ

@lovewonshiik (↑389 ↓27)

↳ college drop out and gay, pick a struggle ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

@freakfundashi (↑386 ↓867)

↳ everyday I get closer to seeing Cho (Name) get creampied on stage

@_Dohyungotafatty (↑433 ↓189)

↳ you’re insane ㅎㅎ but Cho (Name) is definitely the bottom

@jaesflatass (↑330 ↓219)

↳ Kim Ye-Jun makes Cho (Name) bounce on his cock… wonder if it’s big ㅎㅎㅎ

@freakyfundashi (↑3980 ↓340)

↳ I have fanfics of them on AO3. Here’s my username ******

“Is Kim Ye-Jun your boyfriend or something? He keeps commenting on your posts.” Young-Jae asked, sitting down beside you on the couch. You glanced up from your phone and shook your head, blushing slightly.

“What are you even talking about? Kim Ye-Jun is just my seonbae. Don’t be so rude, Hyung.”

“Rude? Look at this.” Young-Jae pulled up on your more recent selfies, one you literally took not even an hour ago. It was of you in the fitting room, getting dressed in a fluffy white sweater and white trousers.

Today the band was doing a photoshoot for your upcoming Japanese debut.

@BRkim_yejun commented : 나는 너를 먹고 싶어…!! 왜 그렇개 귀여워? ㄷㄷ

“Dude, he likes you. He literally called you cute,” Young-Jae said, shaking his head. “If you were a girl, knets would’ve exploded with dating rumors already.”

@BRim_roha replied : 죽을래, 새끼야!!! GET OFF YOUR PHONE AND PICK UP THE PEN!!!

@BRpark_shion replied : 떨 떨?? I’ll give you something to tremble about

@BRseo_minji replied : IM GETTING MY ASS BEAT BECAUSE YOU WANNA GET YOUR DICK WET?!?

@BRhwang_hanbin replied : don’t you guys think you’re as weird as him for spamming the Instagram account? Everyone can see this, you stupid fucks.

Young-Jae looked over at you. “His band mates are as equally as insane. They deserve each other.” He turned off his phone and placed it on the coffee table in front of you both.

You only forced a tight grin. “They’re just eccentric people. Though Roha Hyung wasn’t like this back in university.”

“Hyung? You call Im Roha Hyung but not Kim Ye-Jun? Special treatment.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“I heard that.”

You and Young-Jae sat up straight as Dohyun walked over to you both. He shook his head in disapproval before pulling out his phone. Your gaze flickered over to Young-Jae to see him ogling Dohyun. It wasn’t shocking. Dohyun was in a cropped t shirt once again with tight jeans.

Someone on the stylist team wanted to fuck Dohyun so bad at this point.

“Anyway,” Dohyun muttered, frowning at a text message he read before turning his attention over to you and Young-Jae. “The company is holding a birthday party after this for Manager Nayoung. Make sure to come.”

You gave him a quick thumbs up, “course, Hyungie~!”

“Yeah I’ll be there.” Young-Jae muttered.

“To stare at your ass.” You coughed out, earning a swift glare from Young-Jae.

Dohyun raised an eyebrow. “Stare at my slacks? When did you start using the work slacks, Jae-Ah? I can give you the website I buy them from.” He said, smiling.

Young-Jae sighed. “Sure…”

You gave a comforting pat on Young-Jae’s shoulder. Poor guy.

Party. You couldn’t help but briefly wonder if he’d be there…

❝ 거기 멈춰 줄래 빠지기 싫어 싫어 싫어 ❞

The party, of course, was nothing big. Manager Nayoung had asked for something small and chill. So the DJ was playing more 90s and 2000s Kpop. You were glued to Young-Jae for the most part until he got too drunk, somehow, and had to be taken home by Dohyun.

Won-Shik was being weirdly flirty with the older female staff who were enjoying his attention.

Yuki was somewhere, you remembered him saying he wanted to speak to someone.

That just left you and Junho together. You leaned closer to him and sighed, glancing up at him. Junho was staring straight ahead, watching the older people dance as much as their bones could handle before his eyes flickered down to you.

A soft smile spread on his lips. “Enjoying the party?”

“It’s cool.” You giggled. “I know how old people party now.”

“Hey, don’t judge. This is gonna be you in a couple of years. Just you wait.”

You snuggled closer and hummed, reaching up to wipe something off Junho’s cheek. Junho leaned in closer so you didn’t have to stand up on your toes to reach him. It was only a second, just a split second to where it almost looked like you kissed him when an hand grabbed your arm.

A shocked wince left your throat as you looked over to see who your aggressor was.

“Kim Ye-Jun? You were invited?” Junho asked, his eyebrows furrowing at the sight of him.

Ye-Jun’s upper lip was pulled into a snarl as he glared at Junho but turned his attention over to you. “What did I tell you, Cho (Name)? Did you forget?”

“What..? I’m just talking to Junnie Hyung…?” You whispered, glad that you were all in the corner of the party so no eyes could see this altercation.

“Excuse me?” Ye-Jun tilted his head, his eyes narrowing as he leaned close to you. His hand tightened its grip on your arm. You felt an odd sense of dread as you shut your mouth, staring up at him with wide eyes.

Junho reached over and grabbed your free arm, tugging you back over. “Yah, I don’t know who you think you are, but I’m not going to allow you to manhandle my dongsaeng. Speak to him nicely.”

“Who I think I am?” Ye-Jun turned his attention over to Junho, standing up tall to look straight in the eye. Junho was only two inches taller than Ye-Jun but was carrying more muscle mass in comparison.

It wasn’t even that Ye-Jun didn’t have muscle. Junho was just a bit too buff for his own good.

You knew deep down in your heart Junho would certainly win the fight but judging by how unhinged Ye-Jun has been… you wouldn’t put it past him to act dirty.

“Junho Hyung…” You whispered, catching his attention. “It’s okay… I’ll talk to him in private.”

“I don’t think it’s smart to be alone with him.”

Ye-Jun scoffed. “Why? And you’re safer?”

“Yeah, I am. You haven’t been in his life for five years and only had him for nine months. What claim do you really have over him, Kim Ye-Jun? Do you really know him? Do you know Cho (Name)?”

You balked, wondering how Junho knew that but realized Yuki must’ve mentioned it in passing. It makes sense, Yuki told Junho everything. You should’ve been a bit angry at that but couldn’t help but be happy that Junho was indirectly speaking what you felt deep down inside.

Why was Ye-Jun so set on keeping you as if you’d known him for years?

Ye-Jun’s jaw clinched. “I know how it feels to be without him.” You looked over at him as he tightened his grip on your arm. “And I’m not going through that again.”

“You’re being pretty selfish, Kim Ye-Jun. Did you not even make him your boyfriend? You only realized how much you came to love him when he left?” Junho released your arm, frowning slightly.

“I am selfish. I never said I wasn’t. I want him for myself. It just took for him daring to leave me to truly realize that I can’t be without him.”

“Uhm.” You squeaked out, causing the two men to look down at you. Gosh, it felt so awkward being shorter than them that you only reached their chests. “I’ll be okay… Just let me talk to him so we can resolve our issue.”

Junho sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Okay. You’re an adult. Call me if he does anything.”

You glanced over at Ye-Jun, seeing a slight smirk tugging on his lips. Can’t have him think you’re crawling back so easily.

“Thanks, Junnie Hyung!” You grinned, enjoying the sight of Ye-Jun’s smirk dropping in a millisecond. “I’ll have you on speed dial!”

Once you got the okay from Junho, Ye-Jun practically dragged you out of the building. You waved goodbye to Junho before trying to make Ye-Jun slow down.

Maybe Junho is right.

Kim Ye-Jun doesn’t seem safe in the slightest

❝ 단지 너의 외로움을 단래긴 싫거든 ❞

“A hotel? What? Am I not worthy enough to enter your home?” You laughed, allowing Ye-Jun to push you inside the hotel room. The room was fancier than anything you were used to. Black Rose must be making money.

Ye-Jun slammed the door shut behind him. He tugged off his jacket and tossed it on the ground, his feet heavy as he walked over to you.

“I didn’t take you home because I didn’t want to bother Roha with your screaming.” He said, grabbing your waist.

You blushed, staring up at him with wide eyes. “Screaming? You’re overly confident… Who’s to say I was going to sleep with you?”

Ye-Jun didn’t answer, leaning down as he began pressing kisses against your neck. You whimpered. Your hands gripping at his shirt as he nipped and bit at your skin.

“I don’t need to be confident. I know your body. I know I’m the only one who gets it.” His hands reached down and tugged at your shirt. You stared at him before raising your arms, letting him take off your shirt.

You tried to ignore the hungry look he gave you as he practically clawed at your jeans. Your voice was barely above a whisper, as if you were a bit too nervous to say it. “You act like you’re the only man that’s fucked me.”

His body froze, his eyes narrowing in on your face. You couldn’t help the cockiness that began to build within you at the look on his face.

“What? It was five years. Did you really think I was going to turn celibate because my first ever boyfriend… no, first ever fuck buddy allowed his friends to call me a slut? When asked what you liked about me, all you said was that I made you feel good about yourself.”

Ye-Jun’s eyebrows furrowed as he pulled away, tilting his head as if he was thinking about what you were saying. You sighed, rolling your eyes.

“You forgot? Forgot that you wouldn’t even call me your boyfriend? That I was annoying?!” You couldn’t help yourself, the past anger beginning to bubble up, ready to spill out. “Did those nine months mean anything to you? Or was I… was I just romanticizing our relationship?”

You sighed, rubbing your head. Your throat burned. Shit, were you really about to cry?

A laugh caught your attention as you looked up at Ye-Jun. “You’re laughing…?” You whispered, eyes widening. “You’re laughing after I just poured my heart out?!”

Ye-Jun hummed nonchalantly, tugging off his own shirt. “Yeah. You left me for that? For five years I thought I did something wrong but it was just you getting emotional.”

“Getting emotional?! Yah, Kim Ye-Jun—!”

“—Cho (Name).” His voice sharp. “That day, November 3rd, when I first saw you—I thought you were cute but stupid. Who would run head first into a busy intersection for a stupid umbrella? It was my luck that when I finished my service and you were at my university.”

The calm atmosphere around Ye-Jun made you feel uneasy as you watched him pull off his bracelet. He looked over at you and grinned.

“That first day I got to truly know you, I thought you were the most selfish annoying little shit ever. Me, Me, Me. That’s all you talked about—didn’t ask me any questions about myself.”

You frowned, throat tightening as you tried to fight back the tears welling in your eyes.

“But you know what made me come back? Guess, Jagi.”

“Sex…?”

“Jagiya… Don’t sell yourself so short.” Ye-Jun laughed, shaking his head. His hand reached over and grabbed the belt hoops of your jeans, pulling you flushed against his chest. You let out a shocked gasp. “I saw you. Outside at the college park, crying your eyes out. You looked so cute.”

You shuddered, glancing down as you felt his hand move to your button, pulling it loose.

“You saw me and then immediately ran over to me. Jumped into my arms without even asking me and just cried, begging for comfort.” Ye-Jun chuckled as if he was remembering the moment. “I almost pushed you off but you were cute… So cute. I liked seeing your face ruined with tears.”

“I don’t understand.” You whispered, unable to stop him as he slowly pulled down your zipper.

“I wanted you after seeing you cry and cling onto me. I’ll be honest, I was going to stop seeing you after we first fucked. But then you suddenly said I was your first time… that you didn’t want any other man to touch you.” He laughed. “But you didn’t seem to keep that promise, did you?”

Ye-Jun pushed you onto the bed, grabbing your jeans as he pulled them off. You whimpered, unable to move as you watch him stand tall over you. A small smirk pulled on his lips.

“Everyday, you practically threw yourself at me. So cute and innocent. Whiny in bed as you begged me to fuck you. Slowly you ruined me, Jagiya. I liked how overly dependent you were on me.”

A strangled gasp left your lips as the sound of fabric tearing filled the room. You looked down to see Ye-Jun’s hands tearing open your boxers, creating a hole right at your ass. It was practically ruined.

“I didn’t think at first to make us ‘official.’ My mistake, huh? I didn’t think you’d run off so quickly without speaking to me just because of other people.” His hand gripped at your thighs. “When you didn’t immediately text me back I knew something was wrong. But I tried to think that it’d be good to not have you up under me.”

He laughed, looking down at you. “It was lonely. The first night without you made me never want to be alone again. But you left me alone for five years. Jagiya, did you not think about how I’d feel?”

“But… You didn’t…”

“Didn’t what? Defend you? Is that what you want from me? To be your knight? I’ll be him. Anything to make you stay.”

You gasped, clutching the bedsheets as you’re suddenly flipped onto your stomach, back arched. It was silent for a moment before you felt something cool coat your ass. Your body flinched, a pained whimper leaving your throat.

“Who was it?”

“H..Huh..? Ngh!” You cried out, feeling two fingers sink inside your hole. There was no build up or even a second for you to get used to it. Ye-Jun began to pump his finger in and out, using his free hand to deliver a smack to your ass.

“Who was it? Yang Junho? Did he get to touch you?”

“N..No! No, never..!” You whined, crying at the repeated thrusting against your prostate. The fact he was able to find it so easily scared you. Why could he remember stuff about you after five years?

“Then who, Jagi?”

“Ngh…! It… Mmh!! Ah… Hah.. Y..Young-Jae Hyung…”

“Lee Young-Jae..?” Ye-Jun whispered, his thrusting suddenly slowing down. “You had sex with him?”

“Mhm…” You whined, missing the feeling despite the tears threatening to fall. “We.. We were bored during our trainee years and we couldn’t date so we just became fuck buddies for about a year or so.. Ngh.. We stopped when we met Dohyun Hyung because Jae Hyung caught feelings for him…”

“Only him?”

“…Uhm…”

“Jagi.”

“No… I… I slept with someone after that. But then I couldn’t do it anymore because I got so busy with our debut.”

“Who?”

“You wouldn’t know him. Why do you even care? You probably slept with people during these five years!”

Ye-Jun chuckled. “Mhm. I didn’t. Well, I tried at least.” His finger slipped out of your ass, both hands now spreading you open. “But no one could compare to the pretty face you make whenever you cum on my cock.”

You gasped as you were forced back onto your back and dragged so your lower half of your body hung off the bed. Ye-Jun tilted his head as he drank you on, a slow smile creeping on his lips.

“I missed see you like this. Scared and complainant to my touch. You didn’t fight me at all, Cho (Name). You still want me, don’t you?”

Your hands gripped at the bedsheets as you turned your head to the side, clamping your eyes shut. He only laughed.

“Keep pretending you hate me. I heard sex feels good with hate.” The sound of the zipper and his belt buckle made you flinch, legs instinctively clamping together. You were scared but made no real attempt to move away.

A strangled gasp left your throat as he began to slowly thrust inside of you. It had been up to a year at this point—you almost forgot how much it hurts the first time. Forgot about how big he was.

Ye-Jun groaned, his hands reached up to grab your wrists as he brought them together over your stomach. “Mhm. You still feel so good, Jagiya. How can I live without this?”

You whimpered, eyes shut tight as you feel tears threatening to fall. It was silent for a moment. Your hole repeatedly clenching around his cock as you tried to get used to the feeling. Just as you were about to feel just a smidge of calmness, Ye-Jun slammed into you.

The sound of skin slapping filled the room in tandem with your hiccuped gasps. Tears were freely flowing as your lips parted, trying to say something. You couldn’t even remember what you were going to say.

Your toes curled as the repeated thrusting got you to finally open your eyes and glance down.

Ye-Jun looked downright sinful. His gaze never left your face as his hips slammed into your ass. Hands tightening around your wrists. A smirk pulled on his lips when he noticed you were finally paying attention to him.

“You really are so cute.” He muttered, a crazed look in his eyes as he took you in. “You’re crazy for trying to deprive me of you, Cho (Name). I shouldn’t have let you leave so easily.”

“Ngh… Wh..! Mhm, you act… hah.. act like you could’ve stopped me..!” You managed to finally speak, though it was short lived when his cock finally grazed against your prostate. Ye-Jun moved his hands so only one held both your wrists while the other held your right leg up.

“Oh, you’re still able to talk.” He said, completely ignoring your comment. “Can’t have that.”

He pulled out, much to your dismay, and released his grip on your body. You looked at him with wide eyes, tears staining your face as you wondered what he was going to do. Ye-Jun hummed as he maneuvered you to rest on your stomach once more.

You grunted at the force. “Stop…! Manhandling me!” You whined.

Ye-Jun ignored you again, forcing you to bend your knees on the bed so he could force your ass up high. His hand slipped underneath your boxers and gripped the band. You wondered if he was going to finally just take them off when he thrusted his cock inside your slick hole.

A stuttered high pitched gasp left your throat as he began to repeatedly slam his hips against your ass. He tugged at the hand of boxers, forcing your body to move back on his cock whenever you attempted to pull away just for a second of clarity.

It was repeated attacks on your prostate. The squelching from the lube and the sounds of skin slapping together with the sound of your high pitched moans filled the hotel room. Shit, you were so sure you would be getting a complaint tomorrow.

“I have so many things I want to do to you, Jagiya. To make up for lost time. Because you aren’t ever leaving me again. But I’ll be nice tonight… You have a Japanese debut to prepare for.”

You only whimpered, trying to form some type of words but could only rest your head against the bed.

“But after, I’m going to make you feel the pain you made me feel when you left me for those five years. What happened at the festival was only a taste.”

Ye-Jun delivered a harsh smack to your ass as you let out a shocked gasp. You couldn’t think clearly anymore—just babbling nonsense as your cock rubbed against the bedsheets dejectedly.

You were so close… You hoped Ye-Jun would be kind enough to let you cum tonight.

It seems your prayers were answered as a hand suddenly wrapped itself around your cock. A appreciative mewl escaped you as he began to pump your cock in sync with his thrusting.

The pleasure became too much as a long cry left you as your body began to slump. Your cock squirted against the covers, messing up your stomach in the process. But Ye-Jun didn’t stop, he continued fucking you despite your whines of overstimulation.

His grunting got louder as his hand gripped your ass. You gasped when he slammed deep inside one last time, hips flushed against your ass you began to feel something hot coat your inner walls.

He didn’t wear a condom… You hadn’t even noticed. This was the first time you ever had sex without a condom. Your first ever creampie.

Of course, Kim Ye-Jun was the one to do it.

Your body slumped against the bed, falling onto your side as he pulled out. You couldn’t even complain, too tired to do anything beside sleep.

Ye-Jun leaned over your body and leaned down, pressing a kiss on your cheek. “Don’t sleep yet. You can’t sleep on the sheets.” He wrapped his arms around your legs and upper body, easily lifting you up.

You were in and out as he got a bath ready. Your eyes fluttering close just as he lowered you into the water. He flicked your forehead, jolting you awake as you whined.

“Wha…tsthatfor?” You whispered.

“You can’t fall asleep. I don’t want you to drown in the bath.”

You must’ve ended up falling asleep anyway because you awoke on the bed, dressed in a fluffy white bathrobe. It was dark in the room, only a little light shining through the cracks of the shades from the street lamps.

A hand tightened its grip on your waist as you looked over, seeing Ye-Jun’s face buried in your neck as he clung to your body. You managed to free one hand and reached over to check your messages on your phone.

Roha Hyung

↳ make sure that homosexual is back by 10 am, we have practice in the morning

Jun Jun Hyung

↳ Are you safe? Please make sure you’re safe. Text me in the morning.

Ki Ki Hyung

↳ when did you leave? Are you okay? You better be in your room by 8 am when I visit

Dohyunie Hyung

↳ please don’t come home until after 10 am!!!!! Stay in my room tonight!! PleSjheja!!!

Wonnie Hyung

↳ was I the only one that didn’t know Yuki and Junho are fucking?!? wtf??? Am I only the one who likes girls in this damn band?!??

Jae Hyung

↳ !!!! DOHYUN HYUNG IS SUCKING MY DICK!!!!

↳ IM SO FUCKING HIS ASS TONIGHT!!!!

↳ anyway don’t come home, we’re gonna fuck all night ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

You shut your phone off and gently placed it back on the nightstand. You’d deal with that mess in the morning.

Your body shifted as you glanced down at Ye-Jun.

Surely you didn’t think he was serious. He couldn’t be this obsessed with you after nine months.

Right?

Poor, naive Cho (Name).

❝ 시작해 버린 순간 못 헤어나올 걸 아니까 ❞

He thought he was seeing things that day.

Love Countdown’s Cho (Name). You stood right there in front of him. He almost ran over to you and hugged you so tight, hoping it wasn’t just a dream. You looked so cute with those heart freckles.

He didn’t think you’d debut in a band. He didn’t remember anything about you being able to play any instrument.

Roha would tell him of course he didn’t. He only knew you for nine months. That wasn’t enough time to get to know someone that well. Especially someone like you who seemed unable to talk about anything besides your family drama or love for Ye-Jun.

Ye-Jun almost thought you just looked oddly similar to his (Name). Until Lee Young-Jae called your name. Until he saw how you looked at him with fear but also some type of love? Like you also wanted to just run into his arms.

No matter.

He was used to having total control of the relationship. He should’ve never allowed you to just take control so suddenly. You broke the relationship without even talking to him.

He’d get you back. No matter what. Because you were his.

Even if you didn’t know that.

@BRkim_yejun started following @TheRealLoveCountdown

❝ 점점 멈추기 힘들어 갈 수록 중독돼 ❞

…. Don’t make fun of me, this wasn’t supposed to be so long lmfao. Anyway don’t even ask, I’ll be using Ye-Jun again and make a part two in future. He’s too toxic to pass up on

Tag list: @the-ultimate-librarian @chill-guy-but-cooler @kiiyoooo @star-3214 @tehyunnie @flurrina @ofclyde @iwishtobeacrow @love-kha1 @mooncarvers-world @smellwell @tomoeroi @remdayz @cherry-blossoms-187 @rhetorical-conscience @mello-life25

Translations:

ㅎㅎㅎ (하하하) — hahaha

ㅋㅋㅋㅋ (크크크크) — LOL

ㄷ ㄷ (떨딸) — trembling

❝ 목이 메어 ❞ — my throat is tight

❝ 매달려 봤는데 상처 발더러고 ❞ — I clung onto that person, and I ended up getting hurt

귀여워, 자기야… 셀키 더 찍어 주세요… 뽀뽀하고 싶어요 ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ — cute, baby. Please take more selfies!! I wanna kiss you, lolol

❝ 진지하진 않잖아 가벼운 간보기잖아 ❞ — you’re not being serious, it’s just a test, isn’t it?

❝ 이러면 안 되는데 머리론 아는데 ❞ — I shouldn’t be like this, I know in my mind

나는 너를 먹고 싶어…!! 왜 그렇개 귀여워? ㄷㄷ — I wanna eat you. Why are you so cute? *shaking*

죽을래, 새끼야!!! — do you wanna die, son of a bitch (this is where sae kki ya came from)

❝ 거기 멈춰 줄래 빠지기 싫어 싫어 싫어 ❞ — please stop right there, I don’t don’t don’t want to fall for you

❝ 단지 너의 외로움을 단래긴 싫거든 ❞ — I don’t only want to soothe your loneliness

❝ 시작해 버린 순간 못 헤어나올 걸 아니까 ❞ — because from the moment it starts, I know I can’t break free

❝ 점점 멈추기 힘들어 갈 수록 중독돼 ❞ — it’s getting harder to stop, I’m getting more addicted to you

Songs used — 121u by Day6 and sOng Of ice and fire by OnlyOneOf

#bottom male reader #x male reader #sub male reader #uke male reader #male reader #oc x reader #mlm ns/fw #smut drabble #male bottom reader #original character

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elllisaaa · 3 months ago

Note

how about emo hot skater boy Jake with a massive dick energy and idk maybe like a kinda cocky reader who doesn't believe skater boy Jake is huge and he has to show the reader (who might be acting like a brat) what they're missing could be interesting

EMO SKATER!JAKE who's honestly kind of a loser when you really think about it. he's got his friend group and even if he's quite famous for his unconventional style, none of these people are really friends with him. he spends all his days either listening to music and trying to learn guitar, or skating and perfecting his tricks.

what is maddening is how hot he is despite all of that. you cannot help but stare at him every time you find yourself practicing at the skatepark at the same time as him. however, you don't want to let him know that you're kind of attracted to him. so instead, you always tease him about his style - even if it suits him perfectly - or the fact that he's probably still a virgin with a cocky smirk on your face.

jake usually puts up with your bratty attitude because he knows that what you say is not true, and because he's pretty sure you don't think a word of it. he might look like a loser but he's not an idiot - he can feel the way you're often staring at him. however the jokes about him being inexperienced are getting quite old.

"i'm probably the first girl you talked to in real life though, so i'm not surprised you're still a virgin." jake sighs as you grinned at him with a glint of mischief in your eyes, but he has had enough of your temperament. "actually, that's not what they all said when they saw how big i was baby." the pet name he always gives you and that made your skin hitch at the beginning is slowly growing on you, now making a shiver run down your spine. but you try to stay focused, even if the way jake is looking at you and licking his lips makes it hard to concentrate on forming coherent sentences. "pff ! you ? a big cock ? that's pretty hilarious at least, i have to give you that."

jake rolls his eyes at you, and you try not to move as he gets closer, but you still fall from your board. but the boy in front of you is quick to wrap an arm around your waist and save you from an unwanted meet up with the ground. jake takes this as an opportunity to let his lips brush against your cheek, his long, soft brown hair tickling your face he whispers in your ear : "maybe i should show you how huge i am if you still don't believe me. maybe you'll finally shut up once i got your tight pussy stretched open on my dick."

the air around you seems to thicken, and you cannot breathe properly anymore as jake starts to suck and lick your neck. heat rises to your face, both from his dirty proposal and his kisses that make arousal pool into your underwear. "so what now baby ? cat got your tongue ?" his condescending tone as he bites down on the flesh just under your jaw finally shakes you out of your slumber - even if you had to hold back a whimper the moment his teeth grazed your skin. "i bet you couldn't even make me cum, you're such a loser jake." - "bet darling."

that's how you found yourself in the backseat of his car, ass up in the air and face down buried into one of his sweater, his scent maybe driving even more insane than his actually very big cock thrusting into you at a rapid pace. "not so cocky now, uh ? all you needed was an inch of my dick to shut up." and you want to answer, you want to deny, but at this point, you're only able to moan and bite the inside of your cheeks to not let any more sounds slip past your lips. "fuck… you're such a whore y/n."

you feel jake leaning forward, one of his hands still gripping your hips tightly and the other clenching at the door of the car for some more leverage. his firm abs are pressed against the small of your back, and his hot stammered breath is crashing right against your ear - you feel overstimulated in the best way possible. "admit it now baby." - "n-no !" - "come on, you can feel how deep i am right ? you can feel how much i'm stretching out your tight little cunt, don't lie." but you still shake your head, choking on your words as you try to disagree again, instead cut by a loud moan when jake hits your sweet spot. you clench even tighter around him, and he cannot hold back the low, throaty groan slipping past his lips.

"you're so tight baby, must feel good to be this full." yes, it really does, but you don't want to admit it - as if the tears rolling down your cheeks and the way your lips are bleeding from biting them too much are not enough proof. "n-no, don't like it…" - "you're such a bad liar, y/n, it's pathetic." and then he resumes his rhythmic thrusts, hitting your sweet spot precisely each and every time, and it becomes way harder to hold back your noises. your fists close around the material of his hoodie, burying your face into his intoxicating scent in an attempt to drown out your whines. "j-jake… s-stop, i'm…" you have to mentally stop yourself from saying the words, but you can almost feel the way jake smirks against the skin of your neck that he's been biting and licking at. "what was that baby ? are you close ?" you shake your head no again, and jake's smirk is growing as he stops moving completely, cock sitting deep inside of you. "then i'll stop if you don't want to cum."

your reaction is immediate : you whine loudly when you feel him start to pull out, even more tears gathering in your eyes. "no, no, no, no ! jake, wait !" - "what is it now ?" your voice is quiet when you answer, but jake still hears it clearly : "wanna cum… please." the beg falling past your lips entices him into thrusting back into you full force and this time you don't even make an attempt at keeping your voice down, screaming out his name so loud that everyone in the parking lot must have heard you. "admit it, baby. say that i'm big and then i'll let you cum." you don't want to, but the way he's rutting his hips into you and driving you closer and closer to your orgasm is getting to your head, your mind fogged up by lust. "s-so big jake, so fucking big, feels so good… please, please…" - "now that's a good girl. cum."

the simple command is enough for you to let go, his name slipping past your lips again as you grip his cock even tighter, making it almost impossible for jake to move. but the way you become putty in his hands feels even better. what he loves the most though is the way you're too weak to push him away when he thrusts inside of you again, seeing your body visibly tremble as he starts to fuck you again. "i'm gonna give you my cum, make you even more full of me. maybe that'll keep your mouth shut a little longer baby." you hardly comprehend the meaning of his words, but you don't really care when jake is moaning about how good you're squeezing him, you don't really care when he quickly brings you to the brink of another orgasm. you don't really care because you know that you'll be teasing him again the next morning, hoping that he'll fuck you in the backseat of his car all over again.

#i went overboard with this one but the thought made me dizzy #thank you for your service anonie #eli answering your questions #eli's anonie #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enha x reader #enha smut #enha hard hours #enha hard thoughts #jake x reader #sim jaeyun #jake smut #jake hard hours #jake hard thoughts

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wndaswife · 10 months ago

Text

trying your hardest | wanda maximoff & gn!reader

After moving to America to join the Avengers, Wanda wants to finally make a friend to ease her loneliness. She hopes to become friends with you, and frankly, Wanda idolizes you, but her social skills are... subpar at best.

Word count: 5020

Tags: fluff, humour, some angst, emo wanda being a baby, a little thing, a small very tiny little thing, wanda has a very big crush on you :3 (she doesn't know it yet tho cuz she baby)

A/N: for plot purposes, imagine the avengers didn’t have a catfight after aou

gif credit to (i tried really hard and i CANNOT find who made this gif im sorry)

Wanda Maximoff never really had an education as a child. What education was available in Sokovia was expensive, and despite her father’s late working hours, the twins’ parents could only ever afford their apartment’s rent. The twins were homeschooled as well as their parents could teach them, but after the bombing, they were on their own.

Government-funded schooling helped them for only so long. The schools they were sent to were decaying, and always under dwindling government watch from ongoing airstrikes. The ground shook with explosive tremors as they commuted to school on foot. Wanda and Pietro stayed at an orphanage with hundreds of other children whose parents had passed due to the war — and the Avengers.

Even the government’s debt caught up with what was left of Sokovia. Billions of foreign debt not paid, volume of imports that had increased exponentially since Sokovia worked on rebuilding their country weren’t making enough revenue to pay exporters back. Hundreds of children were booted from government care and onto the streets. The twins attempted to learn on their own, to become informed educated people if they were to ever make a difference in the world, but in Sokovia, even resilience could only get one so far.

Then, Doctor Strucker came along, promising them the extermination of the Avengers, the Western terrorists who had made the already politically-unstable and war-torn country their battleground.

In hopes to cure the world from their terrorist reign, both Wanda and Pietro agreed to Strucker’s experiments, but the education they were given intended for them to become weapons. They knew little of real geography and world history — only HYDRA’s propaganda meant to poison their minds with blind hatred and little else.

When it seemed like you couldn’t be any more different from Wanda as it was, you were also the team’s brain. Stark and Banner specialised in physics and mechanics, but you were the team’s hub for everything else. From computer science to philosophy, you knew everything. No one exceeded you in developing team strategy, setting the stages for mission locations, profiling adversaries, and a dozen of other things Wanda couldn’t have even fathomed when she first met the Avengers in person.

It took Wanda only several moments to realise you weren’t a frontline fighter from your muffled voice in the Avengers’ earpieces to their callouts of your name as frequent, and perhaps even moreso, than their teammates that fought alongside them on the field despite your physical absence.

Y/N — that was your name.

When she had fought the Avengers in Novi Grad, creeping behind the Western superpowers like a heavy looming shadow, Wanda had looked for you. Strategically, it was a rational move. You were the centre of their battle, the heart of their teamwork.

And yet, you were nowhere to be found.

It was only until she had crept up behind Clint Barton when your voice grew clearer than ever before. From the tiny earpiece, you were controlling the field. Perhaps you were just outside, or maybe you were in another country. No matter the distance, Wanda supposed your hold on the battle would be no less effective.

It was the distraction of thinking about you, perhaps — Y/N, the invisible hand — or Barton’s sole intuition, Wanda did not know, nor did she have very much time to think it over, that had made it possible for him to counter her magic.

Then there was pain — immeasurable pain that Wanda hadn’t felt since Strucker’s experiments. It shot through her forehead like a dozen bullets had permeated through her skull. Pietro grounded her, and soon after, the twins targeted Banner.

Despite the rumours about him, the insatiable angry force he was told to be, his mind was the easiest to corrupt. Mental instability and insecurity racked his mind, and he quickly shifted into the green beast the Maximoffs had heard so much about.

Carrying his younger sister, Pietro took the two of them back to Ultron’s base.

They had won that day.

You were all Wanda could think about even while she and Pietro were off missions. You weren’t the Avengers’ frontline defence like Steve Rogers, nor were you the brute strength of the team like Bruce Banner. You held your team in your hands rather than tugging them along by their leashes although you likely could if you wanted to.

Y/N.

Who were you?

On the television after the fight on Novi Grad, Iron Man and Hulk’s brawl in Johannesburg was on the news. The city was in shambles. Pietro said something about the deaths of innocents and the success of his sister’s magic in having the Avengers turn against themselves. But Wanda could only think of what you had thought when Stark and Banner came back to their compound, beaten and sore from none other than their own fists. Wanda assumed the Avengers’ compound — wherever that was — was where you were too.

Wanda wondered how you were dealing with the fight at Johannesburg. What were you saying about her and Pietro?

Later that day, Ultron approached the twins in their bedroom and turned on the television. Despite having been offered separate bedrooms, they insisted on sharing one. Sitting atop their respective beds on the opposite sides of the room, there was someone speaking on the television about Johannesburg across from the interviewer. Their expression was stern but their eyes were solemn. Eyebrows were furrowed together, masking concern and worry; if Wanda knew anything, it was how to read someone.

“Y/N,” the interviewer began, and Wanda’s eyes widened, her head lifting from being held up by her hands, elbows on her pillow as it laid flat atop her crossed legs. “As the Avengers’ strategist, as many put it, how are you planning on handling the devastation that came upon Johannesburg, and the inevitable contact that the Avengers will continue to have with innocent uninvolved civilians?”

The question was packed, and the news station quite clearly had their own sentiments about the Avengers; they were setting you up.

So that was how you looked. Wanda swallowed and felt her chest flutter.

With your upper lip stiff and your posture unbelievably straight, you answered without equivocation. “A common misinformed perspective of any conflict follows the belief that there is any one party entirely responsible for the consequences of violent confrontation, such as the one we witnessed in Johannesburg,” you were saying. With the way her wide eyes were pinned on the television screen, Wanda didn’t notice the way her brother eyed her obviously piqued interest.

“I don’t believe the Avengers are the world’s most honourable superheroes,” you continued. Ultron shifted and Wanda’s head tipped to the side, her interest in you ever growing. “I don’t think anyone is, no matter whose side you’ve taken since the conflict recently — and perhaps even after the invasion of New York’s in 2012.”

That was The Incident, Wanda recalled, when the Avengers terrorised New York. That’s what HYDRA had always told her and Pietro.

“Despite whose side you may be on, as differing as our collective opinions may be, one thing is undeniable — we are all trying to reach a goal of peace for the world, fighting for what we believe is just. There is nothing more powerful than that. Perhaps, it is idealism that serves to be the strength of humanity.”

Ultron laughed morosely. He ridiculed your words, but Wanda wasn’t listening. Whatever you were talking about wasn’t only about Johannesburg. What were you referencing? Who were your words meant for?

Suddenly, your head turned to the camera and Wanda met your eyes. Everything in her froze, her eyes undeviating from your face.

“Wanda and Pietro Maximoff,” you spoke. Pietro looked over at Wanda, shock written on every inch of his face, and Ultron’s eyes darted between the twins, almost accusationally as he undoubtedly suspected coercion. Wanda almost expected you to step through the television screen and into her bedroom. “I know what you want.”

The screen was shut off suddenly, the black mirror of the television reflecting Wanda’s astonished expression. She looked away, shutting her eyes as she felt the burning gaze of Ultron on her. But your words reverberated in Wanda’s mind until your every feature and movement of your lips was memorised. Like a promise, like an ode, your words were immortalised within her.

Pietro wasn’t there when you took Wanda in your arms and saved her from a falling Sokovia. He wasn’t there when you laid her down onto the Helicarrier, nor when you took her hand and told her she’d be taken care of. Wanda cried into your chest at the sight of her brother’s body.

What would he have said if he saw the way your arm refused to leave from around Wanda’s shoulders as the two of them trailed behind his body while he was carried into the compound?

Pietro liked you, and would’ve loved to meet you. He referenced your broadcasted interview several times during their fight in Sokovia. He was proud to work with the Avengers, and proud to finally work towards their goal to help people just like them. He wanted to meet you.

Your voice was different from what Wanda remembered from the broadcast, and not because her memory had failed her, but because you were just… different. You were real, and not a picture on a wall or an untouchable reality forever separated from her by a television screen. As she watched you talk and laugh with the other Avengers, you were real.

But if Wanda was honest, she was much too shy to even start a conversation with you. Perhaps it might’ve been easier to approach you if you were an admired character on one of her favourite television shows, but it was exactly what made her admire you so much that also made her feel so shy around you.

Granted, there was much to adjust to now that she lived in America and was now a part of the Avengers, and she did believe herself to be a generally introverted person, but she was especially nervous around you.

Wanda had gotten enough confidence to speak with some team members. Natasha was welcoming and kind. Thor was easy not to feel nervous around, but his energy was far too much for Wanda to handle just yet. Bruce was much more comfortable to chat with, and Wanda found that he was able to be rather nice once he forgave her for her associations with Ultron. Steve was always very kind to Wanda and she felt very safe around him, with Steve always trying to make her feel like part of the team, but she found that they didn’t have very much in common.

And there was Vision, who seemed to have taken a liking to her since even before the final battle against Ultron. He was nice company, but she found her mind preoccupied thinking of you while in his company, wishing that it was you who gave her as much attention as Vision did.

However, she’d been wanting to start a conversation with you since the day she arrived at the compound. Initially, she needed time to herself, and along with Steve, you also made the effort to check in on her and give her your support.

Once she was finally able to gain some footing in adjusting to things while shouldering the weight of her losses, Wanda started becoming more active within the team by joining training sessions. During them, she found herself unable to stop looking at you, watching what you were doing, seeing how you interacted with everyone.

Even as the Avengers’ primary strategist that was almost never in the field, you still made efforts to train and stay connected and involved with the team — and Wanda quickly learned that training was a major part of team building.

You were everything Wanda wished she could be more like; you were the kind of person she had never thought existed in a world she believed was only full of cruelty and injustice until recently.

There was an upcoming party at the Avengers Tower in celebration of the assigned team’s return from a successful mission tracking down a recently-located HYDRA base still hiding out. It was almost any ordinary mission, but it was the first step towards steadily eradicating all of HYDRA’s bases, even after Strucker’s primary base was taken down in Sokovia. Though Steve did also tell Wanda that he felt that Tony also primarily wanted to find any reason to celebrate since it’d been some time.

Wanda hadn’t been to any of the parties yet, and she thought that she’d be able to use this one as a chance to start a conversation with you.

Wasn’t that what people did at parties? Talk?

Truthfully, she didn’t quite know for sure — she’d only ever heard about them through the sitcoms she watched as a child. She knew only of dramatised American portrayals of teenage parties through television.

Whatever it was people actually did at parties, Wanda was certain she would be able to make some effort to talk to you. At least in a social setting, it wouldn’t be strange for her to start a conversation with you.

Wanda made herself look nice and presentable, but not too formal since she didn’t want to overdress or bring too much attention to herself. She wasn’t sure what might happen if her plan to talk with you didn’t end up working, and if she was somehow left with nothing to do, she wanted to be able to slip away without anyone noticing, as if she had never made any attempt to come at all.

While deliberating whether it was better to arrive on time or a bit later once the party had been going on for some time, Wanda realised that at some point too much time had passed and her only option now was to join the party a bit later.

It was only once she arrived at the penthouse floor where the party was being held that Wanda finally realised how terribly thought-out her plan was.

What would happen if she didn’t get to talk with you? What would happen if she did, and she only made a fool of herself? Would it be better, then, to stay as two people who’d never conversed so that she might retain what impression you had of her now? Even if that meant she would never get to talk with you the way she wanted?

It was far too late now to change her mind if she wanted to, as she soon found herself walking further from the elevators and into the party.

The party was rather filled; mostly, they were familiar faces, but it looked like many brought guests, and some guests had brought some of their own. It seemed that Steve was right — atop of celebrating the taking down of the HYDRA base, this was also a social get-together.

She was still relatively at the edges of the room, so she was still going unnoticed. As she walked over to the bar, fidgeting with her fingers as she did, she took the time to look around and try to spot you. She reached the bar, crossing her forearms on top of its counter, and tried to draw the least attention to herself while avoiding eye contact with anyone as her eyes raked through the crowd.

Eventually she caught sight of you also at the bar, but at the very edge with your own drink, your back facing the party. Wanda’s chest fluttered and she felt she nearly stumbled moving one foot in front of the other when she turned to walk towards you.

She worried what would happen if someone suddenly approached you from behind, which would force her to then stop wherever she was standing and pretend she hadn’t just failed at her attempt to come up to you.

The pressing concern aided her greatly, and she was well on her way to coming up to you without hesitation. But once she actually made her way to your side and once you raised your head from your glass and looked at her, Wanda damned herself for being so distracted, now without a plan or even a terribly-planned script to follow in making conversation with you. She didn’t even get to look at what you were wearing.

It would be too strange of her to look you up and down before greeting you, right?

“Hi,” she said, hoping that the small smile she felt on her face was actually there lest she look like an absolute fool.

You turned around in your seat in order to face her, and now having your complete, undivided attention made Wanda’s legs feel like mush. “Hi,” you replied with a friendly smile. “Are you enjoying yourself? I don’t think I’ve seen you at a party yet.”

Wanda swallowed and nervously drew shapes against the bar counter with her fingernails, also trying her best to maintain a steady, friendly smile. “No — this is the first I’ve gone to. I haven’t been here for very long. I decided only a moment ago to come.”

“I’m glad you chose to come,” you told her and suggested for her to take the barstool beside you. Wanda lifted herself onto the seat and sat, facing you.

While you were talking, Wanda took the chance to look at what you were wearing. You looked nice, and Wanda thought you always dressed in a way that put-together, respected people did. She saw you in some likeness to the well-dressed characters on the sitcoms she liked — but, of course, modern.

Maybe she had been taking too long to respond, for you spoke again: “How have you been doing? I know that the move must have been rather hard to go through.”

When she took a moment to respond and found that a response wasn’t immediately escaping her, Wanda felt panic settle in her chest. She knew she should have planned out what to say. She looked like an idiot in front of you. She didn’t know the first thing about socialising or making friends.

“It was hard,” she said finally. “It is hard. Not so bad now. I mean, I’m trying to adjust.”

You nodded in understanding and Wanda felt herself losing your interest; she was sure that your responses’ intentions were now only to remain polite, to keep conversing with her because you knew she didn’t make very much effort to go out.

Then you asked, “Did you want me to order you a drink?”

“Oh, I’m okay — I don’t drink,” Wanda answered, fidgeting with her fingers between her knees. Truthfully, she’s never tried alcohol before. Maybe she should have taken you up on your offer.

“How have you been getting along with the team?”

“I think well. I like everyone. They’ve been very kind to me,” Wanda said. She could hear herself as she spoke to you; she sounded robotic and uninteresting. She thought she might try her hand at being honest about what she was thinking then and there. “But Pietro was always the most social of us both. It is hard to get along with others without him leading the conversation.”

Wanda must have not noticed how solemn she became after she mentioned Pietro, for you reached out and brushed her shoulder with your hand supportively, your fingers squeezing gently around her and lingering for a moment before letting your arm drop.

“I understand,” you sympathised. “You don’t need to pressure yourself into anything — really. I think you fit in here well, and I think you’ve been doing a wonderful job.”

That was the first time anyone truly supported Wanda like that; she was supported by the team as she was grieving the loss of her brother, always being told that she had a shoulder to cry on or a helping hand if she ever wanted someone to talk to.

There was something frustrating about the way the team approached her grief. They had to have anticipated that she would feel a bit better at some point — or at least well enough to get back to team member material.

In the way she was spoken to, Pietro and her struggles with his death were always approached as something she would get over at some point or another — like Pietro was something she was going to get over. She didn’t expect anyone to understand how she felt nor to share in her grievances, but it seemed to her that what she was going through was seen only as a temporary distraction to the rest of the team.

They were kind in giving her their support, but her grief never seemed quite real enough to them.

Granted, she was rather new to the team, so she understood, to some degree, their inability to understand her pain. But it was frustrating, nevertheless.

But with you, it was different.

You didn’t talk about Pietro or her struggles and pain like it was something to get over. You valued her as she was now, and saw her efforts as they were now.

Wanda felt slightly pathetic for how worked up she was getting over your response, be it as brief as it was, but what you said meant quite a lot to her. She felt, for the first time, that she was being spoken to as a real person rather than a ball of temporary grief and pain.

“Thank you… I really appreciate–”

She was cut off when you were called to meet one of Tony’s friends, an expert in software development who had even helped program some of the software you used for communication with the team while they were working on the field. Naturally, they wanted the two of you to meet.

For a moment, Wanda forgot how popular you were amongst your colleagues. Why wouldn’t you be? It was only that you had a certain kindness and authenticity about you that seemed signature to you. But if Wanda admired that about you, and if she idolised you, why wouldn’t anyone else?

You looked at Tony calling you over then at Wanda, who was awkwardly staring at the floor in some pitiful stance of defeat. It made your chest tighten.

This was Wanda’s first time joining in at one of the parties, and you were the first she spoke to. Moreover, there was a kind of sensitivity to her that you knew lay beyond her typical timidity.

Through the conversation with her, you could vaguely see Wanda’s eyes flickering behind your shoulder occasionally, where the floor’s balcony was. From there, one would have a view of the spacious training fields and the expansive forests beyond that separated the base from the main roads.

Tonight, there were clear skies and a rather prominent moon.

Gently, you tapped the back of Wanda’s hand that was resting on the edge of the bar to get her attention, and she raised her head and met your eyes.

“Would you like to step out onto the balcony with me?” you asked. “I’m not quite in the mood to talk with them right now.”

Wanda seemed to perk up and she straightened in her seat. She nodded, and when you stepped off from your barstool, she followed and trailed behind you as you headed for the balcony.

She watched from behind as you led her forward. She played idly with the tips of her fingers as she watched your hair brush against your back, watching the back of your head attentively as if it could tell her anything about you.

Frankly, she felt a bit starstruck.

A certain panic settled within her as you opened the balcony door and ushered Wanda outside and into the warm evening air; she didn’t know what to say now.

She wasn’t certain if she was interesting enough at all to have such intimate conversation with.

What could she say that could possibly be of interest to you?

In spite of the disappointed chatter and lighthearted jabs from the rest of the team in response to your very-obvious aversion to socialising, you closed the balcony door behind you until it clicked shut softly until it was only you and Wanda outside.

“Is it okay that you’re out here with me?” Wanda asked, looking at you as she stepped beside you.

“Of course,” you answered and walked forward until you could stand against the rails of the balcony. “Why not?”

Wanda appreciated how easy it was to talk with you, and how your relationship with the team wasn’t all that you were. “I thought that maybe you might prefer being out there.”

“No — I want to be here.”

Wanda flushed and she looked away, using the excuse of looking out past the training fields as an excuse to hide her face from you.

Making a bold move, Wanda thought that she might be honest with you; she had the real opportunity to make a friend, granted she pulled it off. “Y/N, I really appreciate you being so kind to me.” She garnered some confidence and turned her body and looked at you.

“You don’t have to thank me for that,” you replied bashfully, and Wanda noticed that you also seemed a bit timid. She thought you were sensitive, and she liked that.

“But also,” Wanda added, taking in a small breath, “I really appreciate your effort in being sympathetic towards Pietro and I, even when we did not deserve it — especially after Johannesburg. Before your interview broadcast, I had never known of such kindness. It seemed you knew more about what Pietro and I wanted before even we did.”

Without a thought behind it, Wanda’s eyes left yours and she added, “I wish he was able to meet you. I am sure he would have felt equally as stunned by you.”

You asked, “I stun you now, do I?”

Surprised by the realisation of what she said aloud, Wanda looked at you and at the sight of your slight smile, also realised that you were teasing her. She flushed and rubbed her warm cheek with the back of her knuckle and distracted herself with two of the party guests walking through the field.

Wanda reminded herself that she came to make a friend — to be friends with you. So she spoke again. “To be honest, yes,” she replied. “I think you are admirable; everyone seems to like you very much, and the kind of bravery and kindness you have is of a kind I did not previously know could ever be sincere.”

She finally said it, and now, Wanda felt anxious about what you might say next.

You shifted and repositioned yourself as you pondered for a moment in consideration. “Well, I have to confess that most if not all of my bravery is rather insincere — I’m truly not as brave as you might think. In fact, I would argue that you’re more brave than I; you’ve experienced so much, undergone so much change, and yet you seem to have more drive than anyone to try your hardest at adjusting and getting back on your feet.”

You thought she was braver than you? Wanda could collapse. She felt her chest flutter.

“But… the kindness,” you said, “is very sincere. I’m glad you see it that way.”

Wanda found herself stepping closer to you, feeling more comfortable in your company and feeling that she wanted to be closer to you physically, to hear your words within a closer vicinity and to see your face free of the soft shadows that the moonlight casted along the curve of your nose and the angle of your cheekbone.

“I think you’re really special,” you told her. “I’m happy that you’re a part of the team. I’m glad you’re here.”

In all her life, there was only one place Wanda ever felt she belonged — with her family. Over some time, what this meant was redefined with the bombing of her home when she was ten and, recently, with the loss of her brother. There was a feeling of loss, an empty pit that burrowed itself within the deepest depths of Wanda’s identity where Pietro and her family and some sort of identity should have been.

It was not only others and her country that she lost, but a part of herself, when all the landmarks she had ever belonged to were stolen from her. But if she could learn anything from still being able to stand where she was and try her best and be brave — like you said — in spite of all her loss and grief, it was that she was not all that she identified herself with.

She still existed, and was still worth something, even without all that was lost.

It would be difficult to even begin finding who she was, exactly, without Pietro and Sokovia and her parents and the truths of herself and the world that HYDRA had always taught her. But she hoped that you might be at least the first step to her self-discovery — you were her first friend.

“Are you alright?” you asked, tipping your head down slightly to try getting a better look at Wanda’s face.

Wanda had lost herself in her thoughts and forgot to reply to you. She must have been silent for a bit of time. “Yes, I’m okay.” She subtly swiped at her cheeks when she realised she was crying — perhaps it was from thinking of her family or of Sokovia, though she couldn’t pinpoint exactly when the moment was that she started crying — as she looked over at the field for a distraction again.

Without another word, you stepped forward and wrapped an arm around Wanda’s shoulders, bringing her against your body in a soft hug. It was wordless and quiet and casual — support and comfort without any conditions.

Every time Wanda believed that she’d fully grasped the world’s capacity for kindness, believed that there couldn't possibly be something more gentle than what you have thus far shown her, you prove her wrong.

She hoped she would never be right.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #marvel #marvel fanfiction #elizabeth olsen

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leejenowrld · 22 days ago

Text

‘love me back?’ — part 2

pairing - mark lee x reader

word count - 19.4k words

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

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

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

[fic ml]

ONE — TWO — THREE — FOUR — FIVE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

───────────────────────────────

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

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

Karina’s voice, hushed yet teasing, pulled you from the daze of the game. “Oh my God, Mark looks so hot in blue. We should both fuck him.”

You choked on a laugh, whipping your head toward her. “We?”

“Yeah, at the same time. Threesome.” She shrugged like it was the most natural suggestion in the world.

“Please, shut up,” you hissed through a grin, unable to suppress the giggle bubbling at your throat. You shook your pom-poms in sync with the rest of the girls, trying to keep your focus on the game, but Karina’s persistent teasing kept your mind elsewhere.

“What? You need a little rebound action unless—” Her voice dropped, her gaze flicking toward the court where Jeno sprinted past. “Unless you’re still into Jeno.”

“I’m not,” you answered quickly, too quickly, as your eyes slid to where Jeno was dominating the court. His jersey, drenched with sweat, clung to his body, showcasing every muscle, every ripple of his toned arms and chest. His biceps flexed as he dribbled, every move calculated and strong, and there was no denying he looked good tonight. But that’s all it was—an attraction. Purely physical. The sexual chemistry between you two had been undeniable, but it was never enough to keep you together. The connection was shallow. You both knew it, and yet, the ache of desire was still there.

“Good,” Karina smirked, satisfied with your response. “Because you’re my best friend, and I love you. You get a courtesy hold on Mark for the weekend, but after that, he’s fair game.”

You laughed again, shaking your head. Karina had been there for you through everything, especially after the breakup. She knew how to make light of everything, how to push you to move on even when you didn’t want to.

As the game unfolded, you spotted Jeno and Mark’s best friend sitting in the bleachers, her posture shy and reserved. She had that doe-eyed, innocent look about her, with her small frame tucked into an oversized hoodie, eyes wide as she watched the boys play. She seemed out of place here, her innocence a stark contrast to the intensity of the game.

“What’s the story with that one anyway?” Karina asked, her eyes zeroed in on the girl.

You shrugged, not looking away from the court. “Jeno said she’s tutoring him.”

“And hanging out with Mark?” Karina’s eyebrow raised in suspicion.

“They’ve been best friends since they were kids, right?” you replied, though the bitterness in your voice was hard to miss. You had asked Mark once, point-blank, if there was anything more than friendship between them. He had laughed, like the idea was so ridiculous it didn’t even deserve a serious response. She’s like a sister, he’d said.

Karina leaned in, whispering like she was sharing the juiciest gossip. “Right. And we’re supposed to believe she’s just friends with both of them?”

“She doesn’t seem like a troublemaker,” you murmured, though even you weren’t convinced by your own words.

Karina’s gasp made your head snap toward her. “Did you just see that? Jeno gave her the nod.”

You frowned, feeling your stomach twist. “What nod?”

“The ‘let’s hook up after the game’ nod,” Karina explained, her eyes wide in disbelief.

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “Karina, you’re reading too much into things.”

Karina crossed her arms, smirking knowingly. “You wanna know what I think? I think Jeno likes tutor girl. I think tutor girl likes Mark. And I know I like Mark. And I don’t even know who the hell you like anymore.”

“Shut up,” you muttered, though the whole thing was spiraling into a mess you didn’t even know how to untangle.

Back on the court, Donghyuck’s voice crackled through the speaker system, narrating the game with his usual laid-back flair. “Ravens have a big lead early in the second quarter,” he announced, his eyes tracking every movement with a casual ease.

Jeno charged down the court, eyes locked on the basket, but his speed got the better of him. As he tried to weave past an opponent, he slammed into him with his shoulder, sending the opposing player sprawling onto the floor. The referee’s whistle pierced through the noise.

“That’s a foul on Jeno Lee,” Donghyuck’s voice rang through the speakers, cutting through the tension in the gym.

Mark, nearby, groaned in exasperation, shaking his head. “Seriously, man? You’re costing us the game,” he muttered, though loud enough for Jeno to hear.

Jeno spun around, eyes blazing with anger. “Mind your own business,”

Mark’s smirk only widened as he crossed his arms. “Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t realise we were here to watch you fuck up.” He raised a brow, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Maybe if you could actually control your temper, we’d be winning by more.”

Jeno stepped closer, his jaw clenched tight. “How about you shut your mouth before I make you.”

Mark shrugged, not backing down. “Why don’t I beat your ass right here and save us the trouble?”

The tension between them was palpable, their rivalry burning hotter by the second. Even though they were on the same team, they were playing like they were enemies, completely isolated in their own games. Jeno refused to pass the ball to Mark, and Mark ignored Jeno’s open plays, yet somehow, the team was still leading. It was a miracle they were winning at all.

Then came Mark’s turn for a foul. He was dribbling down the court, eyes locked on the basket, when he made an overly ambitious attempt at a crossover. His footwork got tangled, and in an awkward stumble, he ended up traveling—taking one too many steps before the ball left his hands.

The referee’s whistle blew sharply. “Traveling violation on Mark Lee!” Donghyuck announced, the crowd groaning in response.

Jeno, quick to pounce on any mistake, smirked. “Nice one, genius. You forget how to dribble?”

Mark shot him a venomous look, his frustration simmering. “Why don’t you try shutting the hell up?”

The game continued, but the tension between them was only escalating. You saw Jeno glance toward Mark’s best friend in the bleachers, her face bored as she gazed around, barely paying attention.

“Hey, she’s looking pretty fine tonight, right?” Jeno smirked, leaning toward Mark just enough for him to hear. “Can’t wait to get with that after the game.”

Mark’s face twisted with anger, the tension between him and Jeno reaching a boiling point. He shot a glance at you, his voice low but cutting, every word laced with venom. “Caught Jeno in the locker room earlier… guess I finally figured out why you left him.”

The implication hung heavy in the air, unspoken but obvious. The cheerleaders beside you snickered softly, exchanging knowing glances. You widen your eyes in disbelief, a flush creeping up your neck as you process his words. It wasn’t just a jab at Jeno—it was personal, and everyone around could feel it.

Jeno’s face contorted with pure rage, his eyes narrowing as the tension finally snapped. Without hesitation, he hurled the basketball straight at Mark’s head, the thud of impact echoing through the gym. In that split second, the air shifted, thick with hostility, and everything spiraled out of control.

The next thing you knew, they were on each other, fists flying as the audience gasped in shock. Mark shoved Jeno hard, sending him stumbling back. Jeno’s momentum carried him into Karina, who was caught off guard and stumbled back, screaming as she fell to the ground.

But Jeno wasn’t backing down. He regained his balance quickly, grabbed Mark by the collar, and yanked him forward, slamming his fist into Mark’s stomach.

The players on the court rushed in, trying to pull them apart, but they were relentless. Every punch, every shove, was filled with weeks, maybe months, of pent-up frustration. As they tussled, Karina, still on the floor, tried to recover, her face etched with pain and confusion.

Coach Suh stormed onto the court, his face red with anger as he bellowed orders. “What the hell is going on?!”

The referee blew his whistle, his voice barely cutting through the chaos. “That’s it, both of you are out!”

“You’re throwing them both out of the game?!” Coach Suh shouted, barely able to contain his rage.

“I have to, Coach,” the referee yelled back. “Punches were thrown.”

“They’re both on the same team!” Coach Suh screamed, his frustration palpable.

The whole gym was a mess—cheerleaders trying to calm the crowd, players separating the two brothers, Coach Suh losing his mind on the sidelines. You couldn’t believe how quickly things had spiraled out of control.

You rushed over to Karina, helping her up from where she lay on the gym floor. “Are you okay?” you asked, concerned.

She clutched her head, wincing in pain. “Ow, pain,” she muttered, rubbing her temple.

And as you looked back at Mark and Jeno, both of them being escorted off the court, you couldn’t help but wonder how this was all going to end.

───────────────────────────────

The bus rattles down the dark country road, headlights cutting through the shadows as the low hum of the engine mingles with the tired murmurs of the team. The cheerleaders sit scattered across seats, throwing occasional wary glances at Coach Suh, who stands at the front of the coach, face set like stone, eyes boring into the back of everyone’s heads. The tension is thick, even those uninvolved feel the simmering anger rolling off him, spreading like wildfire. But the main culprits sit slouched in the back, sullen and unrepentant.

“Mark Lee, Jeno Lee. On your feet.”

The entire bus goes silent. Jeno rolls his eyes, but he stands, fixing a casual scowl on his face. Mark follows suit, his jaw tight, as if bracing for a hit. Coach Suh steps closer, his gaze narrowing on the two of them, nostrils flaring.

“Congratulations, boys. In all my years coaching, this has got to be a low point.” His words land like blows, the weight of disappointment dripping from each syllable. “That little stunt you pulled almost cost us our undefeated record.”

He pauses, arms crossed, eyes flicking between the two. “I don’t give a damn about your issues with your daddy, your girlfriends, or whatever garbage you’re both dragging out here. As far as I’m concerned, you can hate each other until hell freezes over, but if you’re gonna play on my team, you’re gonna learn how to work together.”

Jeno scoffs, crossing his arms. “I can’t see that happening, Suh.”

Coach Suh’s face hardens, a dangerous glint in his eye. “Yeah? Well, you’ve got thirty miles to figure it out.” Without another word, he jerks his thumb toward the door. “Get off my bus.”

The two barely have a moment to process before Coach is barking orders to the driver. They’re pushed off the bus, stumbling onto the gravel shoulder as the bus door slams shut. Exhaust fumes fill the air as the coach pulls away, taillights fading in the distance, leaving them stranded under a starlit sky.

“They can’t just leave us here,” Jeno mutters, a mixture of disbelief and anger flashing in his eyes.

Mark sighs, shoving his hands into his pockets as he glances down the dark, empty road stretching ahead. “Nice work, idiot.”

Jeno’s gaze snaps toward him, eyes narrowing. “Calm down.”

“You calm down. My phone’s on that bus.”

Mark shakes his head, glancing back at the road as if it might magically bring the bus back. “My wallet’s on that bus, too.”

“Mine too,” Jeno mutters.

The silence stretches between them, punctuated only by the distant rustling of trees in the wind and the steady chirp of crickets. They both realize the absurdity of it — left with nothing but each other on an empty road, thirty miles from any sign of life.

Jeno breaks the silence with a frustrated groan. “What the hell do we do now?”

Mark glances down the road, kicking at the gravel under his feet. “We start walking.”

The night air is chilly, and the silence between them grows colder. They walk side by side, their footsteps crunching on the gravel, neither willing to break the silence until the irritation bubbles over, each resentful glance in the other’s direction building until it finally snaps.

“This wouldn’t have happened if you never joined the team,” Jeno hisses, his voice carrying through the empty night like a challenge.

Mark’s fists clench at his sides, but he keeps his voice low, controlled. “No, we wouldn’t be out here if you weren’t such a jackass about me joining the team.”

Jeno scoffs, turning to face him. “Why do you want my life so bad, anyway?”

Mark stops, looking at him dead-on. “This again? Dude, don’t flatter yourself. You’re the last person I’d wanna trade places with.”

“Oh, yeah?” Jeno’s voice is harsh, his words fueled by a bitterness that runs deep. “All I know is that you came out of nowhere and started grabbing everything you could from me. My game, my girl.” His voice cracks, a flash of vulnerability slipping through before he regains his composure. “Sounds like a broken record, right?”

Mark’s lips curl into a smirk, his eyes glinting in the low light as he shoots back, “Your girl? Last I checked, she dumped your stupid ass.”

Jeno’s jaw tightens, but he scoffs, brushing it off with a roll of his eyes. “I actually dumped her, but—”

Before he can finish, Mark steps closer, his expression darkening, his voice deadly calm. “Watch it.”

They stand there, silence stretching between them, eyes locked in an unspoken challenge. Mark’s mind flashes with memories he’d buried, moments that flood his thoughts with a guilty thrill. He wonders if Jeno has any idea what happened after Jeno walked away from you, the way you gravitated toward Mark, the way you sought him out with a lingering gaze, lips parted, words barely needing to be said.

And Mark wonders what Jeno would do if he knew how you clung to him that night, how your fingers traced his skin, how your breath hitched every time he touched you. If he knew the things you whispered in the dark, the way you looked at him with need, the way you wanted him — wanted to fuck him so badly, a fire in your eyes that had nothing to do with anger and everything to do with desire.

The thought stirs something in Mark, a dangerous satisfaction.

Mark’s gaze softens, but there’s an edge to it, as if he’s finally had enough. “Well, what about you?” he shoots back, voice laced with bitterness. “I bet your grades sucked before you met me.”

Jeno’s face contorts, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Who said all me and her got is about grades?”

Mark studies Jeno’s face for a moment, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. He hesitates, choosing his words carefully, knowing exactly how to hit where it matters without overstepping.

“You ever think about why people put up with you?” Mark says, his tone softer, almost casual, but there’s an edge. “Like my best friend… I don’t know what’s going on between you two but she’s been in your corner even when you don’t make it easy. And you don’t even seem to notice.”

Jeno’s face hardens, his defensiveness flaring up. “Last time I checked, it’s none of your fucking business,” he snaps.

Mark chuckles dryly, shaking his head. “Friends don’t have to keep sticking around, Jeno. She doesn’t have to. You act like people are just gonna stay no matter what, like she’ll always be there for you.” He lets the silence settle, watching Jeno’s reaction. “But even she’s gonna reach her limit eventually.”

Jeno’s jaw tenses, brushing it off. “She won’t..”

Mark just sighs, his gaze shifting down the road. “Just don’t be surprised if one day she’s not waiting around for you to get your act together. She’s got her own life, her own choices.” He glances at Jeno, a hint of something in his eyes Jeno doesn’t quite catch. “And maybe she’s already realizing that.”

───────────────────────────────

The sterile chill of the doctor’s office settles over you as you sit beside Karina, who winces each time she moves her ankle. The rest of the team is back at the motel, locked down under a strict curfew after Coach Suh’s fury over Mark and Jeno’s latest stunt. Somehow, though, he made an exception for you to accompany Karina here, her ankle too swollen and painful to ignore.

Karina shifts on the examination table, sucking in a sharp breath as the doctor carefully assesses the injury, then begins wrapping her ankle in a firm bandage. She bites her lip, eyelids fluttering as she watches him intently, a coy smile playing on her lips. You frown, noticing her glancing up at him with a softness in her eyes that feels oddly out of place. He isn’t even that attractive, you think, confused by her sudden flirtation.

“Don’t worry, doctor,” she says with a playful tilt of her head, voice honeyed. “I’m in good hands, aren’t I?”

You’re about to say something, feeling the strangeness of it all, when the doctor reaches into his drawer, pulling out a small bottle of painkillers. “Here, take one of these now,” he says, handing her a pill, “and just half of one every twelve hours. Don’t take too many at once—”

Karina pops three of them into her mouth, swallowing them with a quick, mischievous grin. “Oops,” she giggles, leaning back with a sigh as if this is all part of the plan.

And in a flash, it clicks — the batting eyelashes, the sugary smile, the subtle brush of her fingers against his hand. She’s not flirting with him for his attention. She’s trying to score extra meds. You watch in astonishment as she tilts her head, feigning another innocent look. “Doctor, do you think I could maybe… have a few more? You know, just in case the pain gets really bad later?”

The doctor hesitates, clearly charmed, and reluctantly hands over a few extra pills. Karina’s eyes glint with satisfaction, tucking the extra pills into her bag as she gives him one last, grateful smile.

As you help Karina hobble out, she’s clutching your arm, her eyes glassy and far too animated. She’s practically bouncing as you guide her down the hallway.

Outside, as you’re about to help her into the car, you notice a familiar face near the entrance. Mark’s best friend stands there, looking caught off guard, her eyes widening as if she’s been caught red-handed.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, a mixture of surprise and suspicion in your voice.

“Oh, I was just… exploring the area,” she says, her voice wavering slightly as she tries to sound casual.

You laugh, shaking your head. “We’re at a doctor’s office.”

She bites her lip, looking away with a sheepish smile. “Yeah, well… I wanted to see it, okay?”

You roll your eyes. “Right. Totally makes sense.”

Karina, meanwhile, is swaying on her feet, her arm still looped through yours, a dazed smile on her face. “We should totally hang out more often, what’s your name?”

The girl says her name, but Karina waves her hand dismissively. “I’m gonna call you ‘Rina’. I don’t like your name.”

The girl looks between the two of you, unsure if she should laugh or be offended. “Thanks… I guess.”

You chuckle, exasperated but amused, as Karina starts humming a random tune under her breath. “C’mon, Karina, let’s get you to the car.”

As you help Karina toward the car, she pauses, glancing back at Mark’s best friend with wide, pleading eyes. “Wait! Y/N, can she come with us?”

You raise an eyebrow, giving her a questioning look. She hesitates, clearing her throat. “I already got a ride back to the motel.”

You sigh, a small, amused smile playing at your lips. “What, the bus? The last one just left a few minutes ago. And you wanna go by public transport at this time of night? In an unknown and dark area?”

She falters, glancing down the empty road, clearly rethinking her plan. Meanwhile, Karina lights up, a grin stretching across her face as if it’s all settled. “Perfect!, you’re coming with us!” she declares, already pulling her toward the back seat.

You can’t help but roll your eyes as they both settle in, Karina giggling and leaning close to her. As soon as you start the car, Karina’s hand darts forward, reaching for the radio.

“Don’t touch the radio, or we’ll have a problem,” you warn, catching her eye in the rearview mirror.

But she’s already twisting the dial, landing on a random station and singing along, loud and out of tune. Mark’s best friend glances at you with a half-smile, half-grimace, clearly unsure of what she’s gotten herself into.

“Don’t worry,” you reassure her with a quick look back. “She’ll be fine once she sleeps it off.”

Karina, oblivious to the cautious energy in the car, leans over, grabbing her friend’s hand with wide, adoring eyes. “You’re my favorite, Rina. We’re gonna be best friends forever,” she slurs with a giggle, still believing her name was ‘Rina.’

You stifle a laugh as you pull out onto the road, realising it’s going to be a long, strange ride back to the motel.

───────────────────────────────

The quiet hum of the car blends with Karina’s off-key singing, her hand fiddling with the radio as you drive along the deserted road. The night stretches on outside the car windows, fields bathed in moonlight, the road a dark ribbon cutting through the countryside. Mark’s best friend sits beside Karina, offering an amused glance every now and then, though you can tell she’s half-wishing she’d chosen a different ride back to the motel. You stifle a smile at the absurdity of it all.

The journey’s been quiet for a while now, with Karina’s singing slowing to a soft hum as she leans against the window, eyelids heavy, barely holding onto her high. You’re halfway back, another hour to go, when a movement on the roadside catches your attention. Two figures, barely illuminated by your headlights, are trudging along the shoulder, looking like they’ve been through hell. Squinting, you realise it’s Jeno and Mark, walking side by side, both looking rough and dishevelled. Seriously, did they spend the whole time hitting each other?

You slow down and pull over, giving a quick beep to catch their attention. The boys look up, relief flashing across their faces as they recognize you. But as you look closer, confusion knots in your stomach; they don’t seem like they’re fighting, but they’re covered in marks and bruises, a testament to some kind of ordeal. They approach the car, Jeno with tired eyes and Mark with a weary, yet satisfied look.

You arch an eyebrow, eyeing the two of them, your voice laced with incredulity. “Do I even wanna know what happened?”

Jeno and Mark exchange glances, and without a word of protest, they begin to explain. It starts with them walking back, still stewing in anger from being thrown off the bus. Then, a group of players from the opposing team spotted them and pulled over, offering Jeno a ride. Despite the uneasy feeling in the air, Jeno’s pride wouldn’t let him turn it down, even when Mark, sensing trouble, warned him against it. But Jeno got in anyway, throwing Mark a smug look that all but dared him to follow. Mark, unwilling to leave his brother alone, reluctantly climbed in.

The ride took a turn, just as Mark had feared. The opposing players started messing with them, egging them on with taunts and jeers until they forced Jeno and Mark to strip down to their boxers. Humiliation simmered in Jeno’s eyes, his fists clenched tight, but Mark kept his cool, his mind spinning for a way out. It was then that the players offered a sick deal: they’d leave them alone if the brothers fought each other.

With no other option, Jeno and Mark put on a show, faking punches and grappling. But as they moved, Mark managed to swipe the car keys from one of the guys’ pockets. It was the first time they’d worked together as a team, their silent coordination kicking in out of pure desperation. When the brawl seemed convincing enough, they seized their chance, racing to the car, only to find it stuck in the mud. Swearing under their breath, they abandoned it and took off on foot, laughing despite the absurdity of it all, still bickering, but now with a hint of shared respect.

Listening to their tale, you can’t help but shake your head, a small smile playing on your lips. There’s tension still simmering between them, unspoken words and unresolved resentment hanging heavy in the air. But this, this was a start. It was far too early to think all their issues could be resolved in one night, but maybe — just for tonight — you could all ignore the conflict, let it slip away, and pretend things were fine.

“Coach Suh and his tactics really work,” you muse, half in astonishment, as you look between them when the traffic lights flash red. You catch a rare moment of calm in their expressions, Mark’s gaze softened, Jeno’s cocky mask quietq just slightly as he leans back, arms crossed.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Mark’s best friend with a small smirk, the corner of her lips quirking upward. Huh. What was that about? She’s usually quiet, but there’s something in her look that suggests she knows more than she’s letting on. It’s always the quiet ones, you think, a sense of curiosity stirring.

As you pull away from the stop, a thought crosses your mind — could she have had something to do with this? With Jeno’s sudden willingness to give Mark even a sliver of slack? The ride back stretches on, filled with a strange mixture of silence and soft laughter, the beginnings of an unexpected truce lingering in the air.

──────────────────────────────

The motel looms in the dim glow of your car’s headlights as you pull into the cracked, uneven parking lot. A few lights flicker weakly along the exterior, casting pale, yellow circles on the worn asphalt, barely enough to pierce through the night. The building itself is modest, cloaked in an air of neglect, with faded paint peeling from the wood and shadows thickening in the crevices around the doors and windows. The faint hum of buzzing neon letters above the entrance spells out “Vacancy,” the ‘V’ occasionally blinking, as if it’s uncertain about its own existence.

Jeno’s voice breaks the silence as he turns to you, hands casually stuffed in his pockets. “Hey, me and the guys are gonna go partying. You wanna come?” He raises an eyebrow, his gaze flickering to Mark for a split second before landing back on you, a hint of mischief in his smile.

You shake your head, laughing softly. “I’m really tired. I think I’ll call it a night. You enjoy yourself, though. I don’t know how you have so much energy after all that happened today.”

Jeno just shrugs, his smile widening. “Suit yourself.”

“I wanna come!” Karina chimes in, bouncing over to Jeno and slinging an arm around his shoulders with such force that he nearly stumbles, catching her with a chuckle. He slips an arm around her back, steadying her, and they both look over at Mark’s best friend, asking if she wants to tag along

She laughs, shaking her head in amusement. “Fuck it, fine, I’ll go too. Why not?”

Jeno’s gaze drifts back to you, a final question in his eyes. “You sure you don’t want to come, Y/N?”

You smile, shaking your head once more. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

With a shrug, he gives you a warm smile. “Alright, then. Good night.” He gives Mark a small nod, and then the three of them disappear into the shadows of the parking lot, their laughter echoing softly as they head toward the distant thrum of the party.

The night settles around you, the silence deepening. You turn to Mark, who lingers by your side, his presence grounding you in the quiet. He’s watching you, his gaze thoughtful, steady, as if waiting.

The doors to the motel swing open, revealing a dimly lit hallway that stretches out in both directions, lined with faded floral wallpaper and scuffed wooden trim. The smell is a mix of old wood, dust, and something faintly sweet, like the lingering remnants of perfume, as if echoes of past guests have left traces of themselves here, woven into the fabric of the place.

You walk in silence, each footstep softened by the thin, worn carpet, every sound amplified in the otherwise quiet space. The tension between you hums, tangible and charged, filling the stillness with an unspoken understanding that neither of you seems willing to break.

You reach the start of the long hallway, the shadows deepening around you. There, you both come to a natural stop, instinctively turning to face each other. The faint glow from the flickering bulbs above casts soft light across his face, highlighting the curve of his jaw, the warmth in his eyes as he looks down at you. For a moment, neither of you speaks, standing there, so close yet so unsure, the silence thickening as you both search for something to say.

Your mouth parts slightly, words hovering on the edge, but they refuse to come. His gaze holds yours, unwavering, his lips parting just a fraction, mirroring your own silent question, as if he’s also lost in the space between you, not knowing where to begin. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes, a softness that catches you off guard, and you feel the weight of it, heavy and warm, settling in your chest.

Finally, he clears his throat, his voice low, barely above a whisper. “I’ll walk you to your room, this place is so creepy.” He says, the words quiet but steady.

You nod, your breath catching, feeling the warmth of his offer seep into your skin, grounding you. “Yeah… I’d like that, it’s such a dark hallway, it’s so scary.” You murmur, your voice soft, barely breaking the silence, and together, you begin to walk down the dim hallway, your footsteps falling into a quiet rhythm, side by side, close enough to feel each other’s presence, every step heightening the anticipation that hangs between you.

“Let’s go,” he says softly, his voice steady yet gentle, and it pulls you out of the moment, grounding you.

As you walk, Mark stays close by your side, his presence warm and solid in the dimness. You’re embarrassed by the way your hand brushes against his arm, how you instinctively lean just a little closer than necessary, as if his nearness alone can fend off the eerie stillness of the hallway. Your heart pounds louder than you’d like, each beat reminding you how aware you are of him, of every detail — the quiet confidence in his stride, the way his eyes scan the corridor, protective but at ease.

The hallway stretches ahead, narrowing into shadows at the far end, every creak of the floorboards beneath your feet making the silence feel heavier. The motel feels frozen in time, suspended in an atmosphere thick with the ghosts of other people’s stories. Faint, peeling paintings line the walls, barely visible in the dim light, their subjects obscured by layers of dust and age. Mark’s gaze moves from one faded frame to the next, a quiet curiosity in his eyes, as if he’s absorbing every detail, noticing things even you missed.

When you finally reach your room, you fumble with the key, your hands inexplicably shaky, and feel a rush of relief as the door swings open. The room is small, modest, barely illuminated by the single bedside lamp casting a soft, amber glow over the space. The beds are narrow, pushed against opposite walls, their sheets clean but worn, edges frayed, as if they’ve seen countless nights. The carpet is thin, faded in patches, and the heavy drapes by the window barely keep out the dim streetlight filtering in from outside.

You turn to Mark, who stands in the doorway, his gaze moving over the room before landing back on you. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes, something that makes your heart pound a little faster, a warmth that lingers between you in the quiet.

“You can stay… if you want. Karina won’t be back anytime soon, so we could just… hang out,” you murmur, your voice soft, barely above a whisper, feeling the weight of the invitation hanging in the air.

Mark stands there, just inside the doorway, his gaze steady on you, and for a moment, he doesn’t respond. Instead, a small, gentle smile tugs at his lips, and he raises an eyebrow slightly, letting the words hang between you. “‘Hang out?’” he repeats softly, as though he’s testing the phrase.

You feel your cheeks heat up, the way he says it makes the words feel bolder, more vulnerable than you intended. You swallow, nodding, and barely manage to whisper, “Yes.”

He steps further inside, closing the door gently behind him, the quiet click of the lock making your heart pound a little harder. “I’d like that,” he says, his voice warm, carrying a softness that makes the air around you feel charged, close, as though even the walls of the room are holding their breath.

You gesture toward the room with a nervous laugh, trying to ease the tension settling between you. “Oh, by the way… there’s two beds,” you say, your voice soft, almost playful, as if pointing it out might somehow make the moment feel less charged, less intimate.

His eyes follow where you’re pointing, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he glances from one bed to the other, then back to you. The look in his eyes is knowing, almost amused, but he doesn’t say anything, letting the words linger, a silent acknowledgment of the thin veil of casualness you’re both holding onto.

You settle onto the edge of your bed, pulling out your sketchbook, pencils, camera, and laptop, thinking you might take this quiet moment to finish some assignments. Mark moves toward the other bed, but his eyes remain on you, an intensity in his gaze that you can feel even as you focus on your work, earbuds in, trying to ground yourself in the familiar tasks.

You’re so lost in your own world that you don’t notice him move until he gently tugs one earbud out, his fingers brushing your ear softly. You glance up, startled, and find him close, his face inches from yours, a soft amusement in his gaze.

“You’re working? Now?” he whispers, his voice low, carrying a warmth that pulls at something deep inside you.

“Mm-hm,” you manage, feeling suddenly self-conscious under his steady gaze. “It… it needs to get done.”

He watches you for a moment, a quiet curiosity in his eyes, then offers, “Can I help? I’m not really tired.”

You smile, nodding as you pat the empty space beside you. “You can just… sit here. Keep me company.” Your heart races as he settles beside you, the mattress dipping under his weight, pulling you both closer together.

The proximity is overwhelming, his warmth seeping through the space between you, grounding and intoxicating at the same time. You can feel the subtle brush of his arm against yours. The scent of him, soft peaches, lingers in the air, and each detail heightens your awareness of him, making it difficult to focus on anything else.

The silence between you stretches, his eyes holding yours as his hand reaches out, fingers brushing softly against your wrist. He slides the hair tie from your hand, his touch deliberate, steady, igniting a tingling warmth that spreads through you.

Without a word, he gathers your hair gently, his fingers working it into a loose, careful hold, his movements precise yet tender. The way he pulls the tie over your hair feels intimate, his fingers grazing your neck, sending a shiver down your spine as he finishes, his hand lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.

“Thank—thank you,” you manage, voice barely above a whisper, feeling an inexplicable rush of warmth at the simple, quiet closeness of the moment.

He smiles, his gaze tracing over you, lingering on the way your hair falls loosely around your shoulders. “You look… different with your hair up,” he murmurs, his eyes dipping to your neck. “You should wear it like that more often.”

You try to respond, but your words stumble over each other, caught in the quiet storm of his attention. “I… I usually… thank you,” you manage, feeling the heat bloom across your cheeks, acutely aware of how vulnerable you feel under his gaze.

It’s strange, feeling so affected by him. You’ve always been the one in control, the one who never falters, but here, in this quiet, dimly lit room, it’s as if he has stripped away every layer, leaving you open, raw, trembling with a mixture of anticipation and curiosity.

“So,” he says, his voice breaking the silence, smooth and warm, “what do you need help with?”

He looks down at your camera, piecing together your intentions with a quiet, knowing smile, and you find yourself blurting out, “Can I… take some photos of you? For one of my projects?”

He holds your gaze, nodding slowly. “Yes,” he answers, his voice steady, unhesitating, as if he’s saying yes to more than just the photos.

You stand, adjusting the lighting, switching off the main lights and leaving only the soft glow of the bedside lamp, casting warm shadows across the room. The light caresses his features, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw, the soft curve of his lips, the quiet strength in his posture. It feels like he belongs here, in this softened light, like he’s made for this moment, this intimacy.

You lift the camera, heart pounding as you look through the lens, capturing the way his eyes follow you, calm and steady, a hint of curiosity flickering in their depths. He’s not just a subject; he’s something real, something grounding, something that makes your breath catch with every click of the shutter.

Zooming in closer, you focus on the details — the way his lashes cast shadows on his cheek, the hint of stubble along his jaw, the relaxed curve of his lips. You feel your pulse quicken, each shot a quiet revelation, a piece of him you’re allowed to see, a vulnerability he’s offering willingly.

“Come closer,” he murmurs, his voice a gentle command, pulling you deeper into the moment. You step closer, the distance between you disappearing, and he leans back, spreading his arms casually along the headboard, letting his head fall back slightly, exposing the soft line of his neck. It’s an invitation, a silent offering, and you capture it, feeling your heart stutter with every shot.

At one point, he reaches out, fingers brushing the lens, then your hand, his touch light but grounding, making your hands tremble. His eyes meet yours, his voice soft, almost reverent. “Can I see what you’ve taken?”

You flip the camera around, showing him, and he studies each shot, his gaze intense, thoughtful, a quiet pride flickering in his eyes. “These are… they’re really good,” he says, his voice laced with something deeper, something that feels like admiration

Your cheeks flush, and you look away, stammering, “It’s… it’s nothing. Just… I mean, it’s easy to get good shots when—” You stop, feeling the words catch in your throat, the compliment feeling almost too much to say aloud.

Mark’s gaze softens as he watches you, a quiet, understanding smile spreading across his face. “When?” he prompts, leaning in slightly, his voice coaxing but gentle, waiting patiently for you to finish.

You hesitate, feeling your heart race, before managing, “When the person in front of the camera… makes it easy.” The words are quiet, barely more than a whisper, but he hears them, his eyes darkening just a bit, a flicker of something deeper passing over his face.

He doesn’t look away. Instead, he reaches out again, fingertips brushing lightly along the side of the camera, his touch grazing yours. “You know, you should give yourself more credit for how gifted you are. You have a real eye for photography and capturing the scene, I just wish you’d realise that,” he murmurs, a note of awe in his voice. “It’s like you capture more than just what’s in front of you.” His hand finds yours, fingers wrapping around yours gently, grounding and intimate.

The silence that settles around you is thick with unspoken understanding, a closeness that feels as though it’s been building since the moment you stepped into the room. He lowers his hand but keeps his gaze on you, his eyes soft, searching. The air between you grows still, and you’re aware of every breath, every slight shift in the mattress beneath you, the scent of him lingering around you, warm and inviting.

It feels like he’s going to kiss you, but instead, he breaks the moment with a small grin, tilting his head as he looks at you. He reaches for the camera in your hands, fingers brushing yours as he takes it.

“Your turn,” he says, his voice warm, coaxing. “Let me take a few of you.”

You hesitate, glancing at the camera and then back at him, unsure, feeling the flush deepen in your cheeks. But he just smiles, steady and reassuring. “I want to see you… as you are,” he murmurs, his tone genuine, his gaze holding an invitation you can’t quite resist.

He shifts closer, his hand gently guiding your shoulders back, adjusting your posture with a care that’s both comforting and intimate. “Here… just relax,” he says softly, his fingers lingering briefly on your shoulder before moving to rest gently on your waist, positioning you as he wants. You feel a warmth radiate from his touch, a grounding sensation that makes it hard to breathe steadily.

“Relax,” he says again, his voice low, soothing, his gaze focused on you as if you’re the only thing in the room. “Just be yourself. That’s all I’m asking.” His fingers adjust the angle of your arm, his thumb brushing along your wrist as he guides you into a natural, comfortable pose. The intensity in his gaze makes you feel like he’s peeling back every layer, seeing something raw and true beneath your surface.

He lifts the camera, snapping a few shots, his focus unwavering. “That’s perfect,” he murmurs, his eyes flicking from the viewfinder to you, his smile soft, encouraging. “Just like that.” There’s a quiet reverence in his tone, as if he’s in awe, like he’s seeing you in a way no one else ever has.

You shift, self-conscious, and he moves even closer, reaching out to gently tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering at your temple. “You don’t have to hold back,” he says, voice low and close. “Just let go, Y/N. It’s only me.” His words sink in, their honesty disarming, making you feel safe, and you can’t help but let a small smile break through, the tension in your shoulders easing.

Mark smiles, his voice soft as he captures another shot. “See? You’re beautiful, exactly as you are,” he says, the words genuine, quiet, like he’s saying them more to himself than to you. His hand finds your shoulder again, his thumb brushing in a light, comforting circle as he adjusts the angle, his touch steadying you.

His gaze never wavers, and in the silence, he murmurs, “You make this look easy, you know that?” His fingers trail gently along your collarbone, adjusting your posture, his hand lingering just a moment longer than necessary, a warmth seeping through his touch.

“Mark…” you whisper, unsure of what to say, your voice barely audible.

Mark’s gaze holds steady, an unwavering confidence in his eyes as he lifts the camera and gives a slight nod. “Take off your sweater,” he says, voice low, almost a soft command. There’s no hesitation, no room for second-guessing in his tone, just a quiet assurance that makes your heart race.

“Mark?” you murmur, uncertain, searching his expression, feeling a flicker of nerves.

He smirks, the corner of his mouth tugging up in that playful, knowing way of his. “It’s for the sake of art,” he insists, a teasing edge to his voice. “You can’t argue with me on that.”

You feel a rush of heat spread through your cheeks, his words emboldening you. His gaze is steady, encouraging, his confidence somehow reassuring, and you find yourself trusting him, letting go of your hesitation.

The sweater slips from your fingers and pools on the floor, leaving you in nothing but a lace bra, delicate and sheer, hugging your curves and revealing just enough to make the air between you feel electric. The lace clings to your skin, delicate patterns stretching across your chest, faintly exposing the shape of your breasts, the soft rise and fall with each breath, and the subtle peak of your nipples through the fabric. You can feel the cool air prickling your skin, heightening every sensation, every nerve ending alive under his gaze.

Mark’s eyes travel over you, lingering at the curves, the shadows, his gaze tracing every inch like he’s committing it to memory. His breath catches, almost imperceptibly, as his eyes roam over the lace, lingering at the exposed skin along your collarbone, dipping lower to take in the lines of your waist, the softness of your stomach. There’s a sharpness in his gaze, an intensity, but it’s the way his jaw tightens, the way his throat bobs with a quiet swallow that reveals the effect you’re having on him.

The camera hangs loosely in his hands, momentarily forgotten as he studies you, his gaze darkening with each second. You feel the weight of his attention, the way his eyes roam over the gentle curve of your hips, the delicate arch of your ribcage, as if he’s savoring every detail, reluctant to let any part of you go unnoticed.

He raises the camera again, and the click of the shutter feels heavier this time, intimate. With each shot, you feel more exposed, more seen. His silence speaks louder than any words, each subtle shift in his posture, each lingering look, making you feel like you’re the only thing that matters in the room.

Mark’s voice is a low, commanding whisper. “Take everything else off.”

You feel a surge of heat rush through you, your fingers lingering at the hem of your bra as you meet his gaze, challenging, steady. “You want me to strip for you?” Your voice carries a daring edge, matching the intensity of his.

You don’t wait for him to respond or to take all of the control. Instead, you lean in, grabbing the back of his neck, pulling him down with a force that matches the heat between you, crashing your lips into his. The kiss is raw, hungry, unrestrained, a fierce claim that leaves no space for hesitation. Your hands grip onto his shoulders, your nails dragging across his skin, feeling the hard muscle tense beneath as your touch ignites a fire between you both. His jaw clenches under your grip, and you let your lips roam, biting and sucking along the line of his neck, relishing the way his breath hitches, the way his body reacts to every bold touch, every demanding kiss.

He lets out a low growl, meeting your fervour, his hands gripping your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies are pressed tight, his breath hot against your mouth. The kiss is messy, fierce, a clash of teeth and tongues, meeting each other’s roughness head-on. His hand finds your hair, tugging just enough to make you gasp, and he takes advantage of the moment, pressing deeper, his tongue tracing over yours, tasting you with a hunger that’s as consuming as it is electric. Every movement is rough, every touch searing.

You push him back, guiding him down onto the bed as you climb over him, pressing him firmly against the mattress. Your hands trace over his chest, feeling every line and curve of muscle, savouring the way his body responds to your touch. His hands grip your hips with a rough urgency, holding you close as you begin to grind against him, the friction between you intense and undeniable. The movement sends waves of heat through you, a building pressure that makes you both gasp, your bodies finding a rhythm together, every shift and grind drawing you closer.

You press down onto him, moving your hips in a steady rhythm, feeling the hardness beneath you, his body responding to each shift, each movement. There’s a delicious pressure that builds with every grind, his hands pressing firmly into your hips, guiding you, encouraging you to press even closer. The rough fabric of his jeans adds to the sensation, intensifying the friction, making each rock of your hips a mix of pressure and heat. You can feel his breath hitch, his body tensing beneath yours, every low groan that escapes him spurring you on, the sounds blending with your own gasps as you both lose yourselves in the feeling, the closeness, the raw connection building between you.

Your mouth finds his neck, leaving a trail of kisses as you rock against him, feeling the rise and fall of his breath, the low, raw sounds escaping from both of you. His hands press into your skin, pulling you against him with each grind, the friction building, your moans filling the air as you lose yourselves in the rhythm, a desperate, unrestrained connection as you both give in completely.

Without breaking away, you slide your hands down, gripping the hem of his shirt, fingers curling into the fabric as you start to lift it. There’s a sense of urgency in your movements, a building anticipation that makes your pulse race, but just as you begin to pull his shirt up, his hands catch your wrists, stopping you with a firm but gentle grip.

“Not yet,” he whispers, his breath warm against your lips as he leans in to press a soft, lingering kiss there. He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze intense, searching. “I want to know more about you… everything you’re willing to tell me.” His words are quiet but hold a weight, a sincerity that sinks deep, leaving you feeling bare in a way that has nothing to do with clothes.

His steady gaze holds yours, and you feel your confident act slipping away, replaced by something softer, more vulnerable. There’s a warmth in his eyes, a sense of safety that makes you want to open up, to let him in, even though sharing yourself hasn’t always come easily.

You hum softly, nodding, and he continues, his voice low and inviting. “Let’s play a game, hm? Tell me something about yourself that you’ve never told anyone, and for each secret, you get to take off one piece of my clothes.”

A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth, and you nod, feeling oddly comfortable, the way he looks at you making you feel secure, protected. Normally, you’d hesitate to let anyone in this close, but with him, it feels right, natural, as if he’s creating a space for you to share, to be yourself without judgment.

You take a breath, gathering your thoughts. “Alright… here’s one,” you begin, your voice barely above a whisper. “When I was a kid, I used to sneak out at night, just to take photos of the sky and all of the constellations. I’d sit outside for hours. That's how my love for photography started. It was when I felt safest and most at peace.”

He smiles, the warmth in his eyes deepening, and without a word, he leans in, brushing his lips softly against yours, a tender kiss that holds a quiet reverence. You take the moment, slipping your hands under his shirt, pulling it up and over his head, letting it fall to the floor. He looks at you, bare-chested, his skin warm, his chest rising and falling with each steady breath.

You take him in, the lean lines of his torso revealed in the dim light. His skin is smooth and inviting, the muscles of his chest subtly defined, rising and falling with each steady breath. Your eyes trace the lines of his collarbone, down to the toned plane of his chest, where each contour hints at both strength and vulnerability.

You smile, feeling the intimacy between you grow, and decide to lighten the moment with your next fact. “Alright, here’s a weird one… I’m terrified of carrots,” you admit with a shy laugh, “and I have no idea why. It’s irrational.”

He chuckles, his laugh low and soft, his eyes crinkling with amusement. You giggle too, your laughter spilling over as you kiss him again, the lightheartedness making the moment feel even more genuine, more real. You climb off him for a second, struggling playfully as you work on unzipping his jeans, and he lifts his hips, sliding them off and tossing them to the floor with a grin.

In one quick motion, he pulls you back on top of him, his hands finding your thighs as he guides you down, holding you close. You start to grind against him again, you’re unable to resist. Your breaths mingle, a delicious friction building as you press down onto him, the heat between you intensifying. His hard length presses through the thin material of his boxers, and you let out a soft, high-pitched moan, feeling your own body respond, your hips moving of their own accord.

“You still have one more fact to tell me,” he murmurs, his voice teasing, his lips brushing your ear as he smirks, clearly enjoying how distracted you’re becoming.

You bite your lip, your hands splayed against his chest as you try to focus, the warmth of his body beneath you making it hard to think. He leans in close, his voice a low murmur. “You know, you haven’t even been fucked by my cock and you’re already this needy…”

As you reach the last barrier of his clothing, a sigh of relief escapes you. Your hands tremble slightly with anticipation as they move towards the zip on his jeans. But before you can pull it down, his hands clamp over yours, stopping you. His grip is firm, his expression stern yet amused by your obvious eagerness.

You pout deeply, frustration and desire mingling on your face. “I’ve told you enough, please take off your pants.”

He chuckles, clearly enjoying your desperation. “I don’t know, I think I’m going to need a little more detail, baby. What about being dominated do you like so much?”

Caught off guard by his insistence on understanding your desires, you falter for a moment before admitting, “I like being pinned down,” your eyes flicking to his arms, imagining them restraining you, the thought alone sending a thrill through you.

“And what else?” he presses, leaning in closer.

“I like being slapped, spit on, choked, being fucked dumb. I just like feeling like I’ve completely lost control and the guy on top takes it,” you confess, your voice a whisper of raw honesty.

He smirks, his voice dropping to a seductive growl. “Oh, is that what you want from me? You want me to hold you down and fuck you so hard you forget your own name? You want me to use you, throw you around?”

You nod vigorously, “Mhm, now can I have your cock, pleaseee?” your whisper laden with need.

“I don’t know, it feels like there’s something you’re holding back,” he teases, his hands loosening their hold on yours, his own patience wearing thin as his desire builds.

Your cheeks burn with a blush as you quietly mumble, “I have a daddy kink…” His eyebrows raise slightly, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement but he doesn’t comment, simply shakes his head in feigned disbelief and finally unzips his jeans.

You don’t waste any time, you pull down his boxers and his cock springs free, thick and hard, its sheer size both thrilling and nearly overwhelming. Your breath catches in your throat, eyes widening as you take in every inch, every pulse seeming to echo the growing need inside you. Vulnerability and desire mix within you, and you can’t tear your gaze away, the sight stirring something deep and all-consuming. A quiet gasp slips past your lips, your cheeks flushing as the thought of him inside you settles heavily, making you ache.

The moment stretches, your anticipation growing unbearable, and before you can stop yourself, a loud, needy moan escapes, filling the room with the raw, unfiltered sound of your desire. It shocks you, how loudly you moaned, as if your body was acting on its own, unable to contain just how badly you need him. The sound reverberates in the quiet space, and even as you try to stifle it, the moans keep slipping out. Your eyes drink in every detail of his cock, your body throbbing with hunger and anticipation that knots in your stomach, urging you closer.

Your mouth waters as you stare, the craving growing stronger with every second. You trace the length of him with wide eyes, the thickness and veins seeming almost unreal, the girth larger than anything you’d imagined. The head is flushed, every throb pulsing with a heat that leaves you dizzy. “Fuck—fuck,” you whimper, voice trembling as disbelief and raw hunger mix in the words. You can barely believe the size, the thickness that promises to fill every part of you, your body reacting instinctively, the longing drawing you closer to him.

Mark chuckles, his eyes glinting with amusement as he catches your reaction. A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Not what you expected?” he asks, voice low and teasing, full of a quiet confidence that makes your cheeks burn even more.

You shake your head, feeling a shy smile forming as you bite back a small “no,” your voice barely above a whisper. “Respectfully,” you add, voice trembling, “nice guys don’t have big cocks.” The words spill out, almost involuntarily, your gaze still locked on him, unable to look away, entranced.

He chuckles again, shaking his head, his smirk deepening as he watches you. “Who said I’m a nice guy?” he murmurs, the words carrying a promise that sends a thrill through you. You don’t realise it now, but you’re going to regret saying that.

“Come here,” he whispers, his voice rough but soft, drawing you closer with a gentle pull. His hands slide up your back, finding the clasp of your bra, and in one smooth movement, he unhooks it. His gaze is dark and intense as the fabric slips away, his eyes fixated on the way your breasts fall free, the soft curve of your skin catching the low light. His lips part slightly, and you catch the way his breathing hitches, almost like he’s savoring the sight.

He doesn’t rush, doesn’t speak. Instead, his hands come up, fingers tracing along the swell of your chest before letting his palms cup and lift, making you gasp at the warmth and firmness of his touch. Each bounce, each subtle movement seems to captivate him, his gaze drinking in every detail as though he’s committing it to memory.

He doesn’t hold back, guiding your hips firmly as he slides your jeans and lace thong down in one fluid motion, leaving you both fully naked. You’re seated on his lap now, feeling every inch of his body pressed against yours, the heat between you almost unbearable. His cock rests beneath you, thick and solid, pressing up against your warmth, and you feel a pang of anticipation, desire twisting in your stomach. He watches you with a patient hunger, his hands resting at your hips, giving you the space to take him at your own pace.

Slowly, you begin to lower yourself, feeling the tip of his cock pressing against your entrance, stretching you in a way that feels almost impossible. As you sink down, the sheer size of him has you gasping, his girth filling every inch, forcing your body to accommodate his length. You feel yourself stretch around him, the pressure building as you inch lower, and a strangled moan escapes your lips.

The fullness is overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and an ache that borders on pain, and your hands grip his shoulders as if you’re afraid to let go. “God,” you whisper, barely able to speak. You stare at him in disbelief, feeling the sheer depth and thickness of him, every inch stretching you in ways you’ve never experienced. You’ve had a lot of sex, but you’ve never felt anything this big, this deep inside of you. Your voice trembles as you struggle to find words, the overwhelming sensation making it hard to breathe.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you adjust to him, your body reacting to the way he fills you so completely. “You’re… so big,” you murmur, voice cracking as your breathing quickens. Each inch you take seems to stretch you further, filling you more than you thought possible. He’s thick, almost too much to handle, and yet you can’t stop yourself from wanting every bit of him.

Mark’s gaze softens, a flicker of pride in his eyes as he watches the way you shake on top of him. His hands slide up to cradle your face, thumbs gently brushing away the tears that slip down your cheeks. He leans forward, his lips brushing your ear, and whispers softly, “It’s okay, I’ve got you.” His voice is gentle, almost soothing, and his breath is warm against your skin. “Take your time, baby… let me feel you.”

Before you can fully adjust, he shifts his grip on your hips, and in one fluid motion, he flips the two of you, rolling you onto your back beneath him. The world spins for a brief second, your heart racing as you feel his weight press down, grounding you. His hands find your hips again, holding you steady, his eyes dark with intent as he leans over you, a soft smirk playing on his lips. You’re breathless, the depth of him now more intense as he angles himself above you, his gaze locked on yours as he slowly presses deeper

As he presses into you, the stretch is intense, nearly overwhelming. You feel the fullness, but it’s too much, and the ache borders on pain. Your hands fly up to cover your face as it twists in discomfort, trying to absorb the pressure and failing. “Mark, I—‘too big.’” You breathe out, barely able to get the words out as they’re forced through shallow gasps.

Mark looks down at you with the utmost care, his gaze soft and full of patience. He slides his cock out slowly, each inch easing the pressure, and it doesn’t take long—he’s barely inside of you. “That’s okay,” he whispers, voice low and comforting, brushing a few stray hairs from your face as you breathe deeply, trying to steady yourself. “We’ll just try again.” His words are so gentle, filled with such affection that it makes you dizzy, and you can’t help the small, shaky whimper that escapes you as you nod.

You look up at him, eyes searching his face, and he leans in close, pressing a soft, grounding kiss to your lips, his hands finding yours and gripping them firmly. “You think if I eat you out, it’ll make it easier for me to fuck you?” he murmurs, voice teasing, lips brushing yours.

You pout, feeling the need still thrumming inside you, and sigh, “Just want your cock.”

He chuckles softly, shaking his head as he kisses you again, trailing down your body. “And it’s all yours… just be patient with me, okay?” he whispers, his voice laced with warmth and care. He moves down, positioning his head in between your thighs, his eyes flicking up to meet yours one last time as his grip on your hand remains, grounding you. His other hand slides up your thigh, fingers pressing firmly as he pushes your legs wider, his touch sending a thrill through you.

Without another word, his mouth descends on you, his tongue flicking over your clit with a deliberate, rough pressure that makes you gasp, every nerve ending igniting under his touch. His mouth moves with an intensity that’s both passionate and unyielding, his tongue tracing slow, sensual circles before pressing firmly, flicking against you with a skill that sends jolts of pleasure straight through your core. He doesn’t let up, lips sealing around your clit, sucking softly, then harder, dragging you deeper into bliss with every motion. Your hips buck against his face, desperate for more, and he growls softly in response, the vibration sending shivers up your spine as he anchors you in place, his grip firm and possessive.

You tug harder on his hair, pulling him even closer, feeling his warm breath against your skin as he sinks his tongue inside you, thrusting and curling with a rhythm that leaves you gasping. He moves rougher, his tongue pressing deeper, tasting you with a hunger that’s almost primal, his hands sliding up to keep your thighs spread wide as he devours you, lost in the moment. Your legs tighten around his shoulders, locking him in place, and he responds with even more intensity, mouth working you harder, deeper, his lips brushing against your slick skin as his tongue finds your clit again, circling it with maddening precision.

With one final, perfectly timed flick of his tongue, the tension snaps, and you’re sent spiraling over the edge. Your body arches, shuddering as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you, each pulse more intense than the last. Mark stays exactly where he is, his mouth locked on you, drawing out every last tremor, coaxing every ounce of pleasure from your body. His hands grip your thighs, possessive and steady, keeping you firmly in place as he savors every second of your release.

Even as your body goes limp beneath him, trembling and breathless, his tongue continues its slow, gentle strokes, easing you down from the high, until you’re left blissfully spent in his hands, every nerve tingling in the aftermath.

Mark’s gaze darkens as he presses a wet, lingering kiss right against your core. The way his tongue flicks over you sends an involuntary shiver up your spine, his mouth exploring you with slow, deliberate attention. His lips leave you breathless, a mix of pleasure and anticipation curling through your body as he pulls back, a faint smirk tugging at his mouth.

He straightens up, positioning himself at your entrance, his hand gripping your thigh firmly. “Ready for me again, baby?” he murmurs, voice a husky promise as he holds your gaze. With a slow, steady push, he slides inside, inch by inch, letting you feel the stretch, the delicious pressure as he fills you. His eyes flicker with intensity, every movement calculated, controlled. A low, satisfied groan escapes him as he presses further, savoring every moment as he sinks deeper, letting you feel every inch.

His lips meet yours in a soft kiss, the warmth of his mouth contrasting with the steady pressure below. “You feel so good,” he whispers against your lips, his words a low, soothing hum. His thrusts remain slow and unhurried, each one pushing deeper, brushing every sensitive spot, his cock moving with deliberate precision, heightening every sensation. His hand trails up, cradling the back of your neck as he kisses you again, letting the intensity build in the rhythm he sets, every movement designed to keep you on the edge, drawing out your pleasure with each slow, consuming thrust.

You close your eyes, letting his words wash over you, the combination of his gentle encouragement and the feeling of him stretching you making you feel vulnerable and cherished all at once. He watches you intently, his gaze darkening as he feels you around him. “God, you’re so tight for me,” he murmurs, his voice a low, rough whisper that sends a shiver through you. His hands grip your waist, holding you firmly as he moves slowly, letting you feel the full stretch, every inch of him pressing deeper, unhurried and deliberate.

“You’re filling me so perfectly,” you murmur, barely able to keep your voice steady, each slow, deliberate thrust making you shiver. “Please, don’t stop… I want all of you.” The words spill from your lips in a quiet plea, your body arching into him, craving the closeness, the depth.

He presses a tender kiss to your jaw, trailing soft kisses down your neck as you adjust to him, each movement sending a wave of pleasure through you. His hands rest at your waist, guiding you with a patience that contrasts the intensity of the moment. “Look at you,” he murmurs softly, a hint of awe in his voice. “Taking me so well like you were made for me.”

He hovers above you, his hands pressing firmly against your hips to keep you in place as he rolls his hips forward, each subtle movement drawing a soft cry from you. His touch is steady, grounding, his gaze fixed on yours with a smirk tugging at his lips. Leaning down, his mouth brushes against your ear, his breath warm and thick with satisfaction. “Just like that,” he whispers, voice low and controlled, laced with pride. “I knew you could take me… you’re doing so well.” His lips hover near your ear, his words fanning over your skin, deep and reassuring. He inches in further, each slow thrust emphasising the stretch, pushing you to feel every bit of him.

He groans softly, his lips capturing yours in a brief, hungry kiss, his mouth warm and possessive before he pulls back. With painstaking slowness, he sinks into you again, inch by inch, the stretch intense as your body instinctively tightens around him. Every shift of his hips sends a spark of pleasure coursing through you, his cock pressing deeper, thick and pulsing, letting you feel the full weight of him as he takes his time.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, voice rough with desire, his grip firm on your hips as he holds you steady. The deliberate pace keeps you teetering on the edge, the friction building as he fills you completely with each slow, controlled thrust. Unable to hold back, you lift your hips to meet his movements, grinding up against him, seeking more. Your hands find his shoulders, nails digging in as you move with him, matching the rhythm he’s set, each roll of your hips bringing him deeper, sparking pleasure that leaves you gasping.

Your breath catches as you rock against him, the ache of desire driving you to push up, to take him further, your body arching in response to every deliberate thrust. “Please,” you whisper, the need undeniable as you move under him, craving the fullness, the heat of his skin against yours. Your breath catches, body arching instinctively, craving more, needing him to fill you fully. But he keeps his pace torturously steady, making you feel every inch as he fills you, pulling back just enough to leave you aching.

A low groan escapes him as he watches you, the ghost of a smirk tugging at his mouth. “You want me to go harder, don’t you?” His hands slide up your sides, thumbs brushing over your skin as he holds you steady, grounding you beneath him, each touch leaving a warmth that only makes you crave him more.

You nod, lips parted in a soft gasp, eyes pleading. “Yes.” You whisper, voice trembling, the word escaping you in a quiet, desperate plea. “I need more…”

He smirks as he leans close, his breath hot against your skin, his voice a low, intoxicating growl. "I know how much you need it," he murmurs, each word dripping with control, teasing you with every deliberate thrust. The way he fills you-inch by inch-stretches you in a way that has your body clenching desperately around him, pushing you closer to the edge with every slow, deep movement.

Your fingers dig into his shoulders, clutching onto him, your breaths ragged as you finally let the word spill from your lips, barely a whisper. "Please, daddy," you gasp, voice trembling with need, the desperation in your tone sparking a darker look in his eyes.

"That’s my good girl," he growls. The slow, torturous build finally shatters as he lets go, hips snapping forward with a force that has you gasping, every thrust deeper, harder. His grip on you is firm, fingers digging into your skin as he watches you tremble, a possessive edge in his gaze as he fills you again and again.

“God, look at you,” he growls, voice thick with satisfaction, eyes heavy with desire. “Taking every inch… like you’re made for me.” His voice is low, a murmur that’s somehow gentle despite the roughness of his thrusts. He keeps his eyes locked on yours, his pace relentless, the force of each thrust making you moan, your cries mixing with his own low groans.

He leans down, his lips brushing against your ear as he chuckles softly, taking in the desperate whimpers escaping you. “I know, baby,” he murmurs, the mockery gone, his voice softer, filled with something deeper. “I’ve got you… don’t worry.” He pushes into you deeper, grinding his hips in a way that has you arching, needing every inch.

“Please… don’t stop,” you gasp, voice breaking as he pounds into you, his movements leaving you breathless, your body clinging to his as he fills you again and again, rougher, harder, until the tension is unbearable.

He watches you, his gaze warm yet possessive, hand slipping down to press between your thighs, fingers teasing as he brings you closer to the edge. “Such a tight pussy,” he breathes, voice low and reverent as he watches you fall apart beneath him, his hands gripping your thighs to spread you open as he drives into you with raw, unrelenting force. “So beautiful… so perfect.”

His hips slam into you with an unrestrained rhythm, each thrust harder and faster than the last, sending shockwaves through your body. Your legs tighten around his waist, locking him in as he finds that perfect angle, hitting it relentlessly, making you see stars. The pleasure is overwhelming, building with every stroke, your body arching up to meet his as he drives deeper, every inch filling you completely, stretching you in ways that make you gasp. Your nails scrape down his back as you cling to him, losing all control, the sensation pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

Your breath catches, turning into desperate, breathless moans that rise in pitch as he keeps going, unrelenting. You feel yourself spiralling, every nerve on fire as the tension coils tight. Just when you can’t hold back anymore, his pace quickens, and you scream his name. “Oh god, yes! Right there.” The sounds that release from you were raw and uncontrolled, echoing around you as your body clenches around him, your release crashing over you in waves. He doesn’t stop, his thrusts hard and deep, riding out every pulse, keeping you suspended in that overwhelming high, both of you completely lost in each other.

“Look at me,” he coaxes, his thumb brushing over your hip as he pulls back slightly before sinking back in, his gaze locked onto yours, absorbing each gasp that escapes your lips. He presses his hand down on your lower stomach, a bulge forming beneath his palm as he fills you to the hilt. “You feel me here?” he murmurs, voice thick, watching your reaction as the pressure intensifies. “That’s all for you.” The sensation makes you tremble, every nerve coming alive under his touch, grounding you in the overwhelming intensity of each slow, deep movement.

“I could stay like this forever, buried inside you,” he says, each word reverberating through you as his hand stays firm against your stomach, feeling every thrust. His hands glide up your back, pulling you closer, his lips capturing yours in a gentle kiss that contrasts the raw intensity below. “I want you to feel every inch, baby,” he whispers, his gaze never leaving yours, rocking into you deeply, each stroke unhurried but consuming. “This is all for you.”

The pressure builds, overwhelming and all-consuming, and you feel yourself clenching tighter around him, unable to hold back. “I’m gonna cum,” you gasp, your voice breaking as the words tumble out, raw and desperate. The sensation is electric, each thrust pushing you closer, and he grips your hips, pulling you down to meet him with every powerful stroke.

“Do it,” he growls, his voice thick with need, his gaze locked onto yours as he watches you unravel. His movements quicken, his cock throbbing inside you, stretching you to the limit, and just as your release crashes over you, he lets go, spilling into you as he presses deep, holding you against him. The heat of his release fills you, his moans low and guttural as he pulses within you, every inch of him flooding you completely, and you tremble beneath him, gasping for air as the waves of pleasure leave you both breathless and spent.

“Good girl,” he whispers against your lips, his voice soft yet filled with a lingering possessiveness that leaves you flustered, speechless, and overwhelmed by the intensity of what just happened. The warmth of his touch, the weight of his gaze—it all feels so intimate, so unlike anything you’ve experienced before.

Before you know it, he’s lifting you into his arms, carrying you effortlessly to the shower. The warmth of the water surrounds you as he gently cleans you, his hands moving with a tender care that soothes every aching muscle. He massages your shoulders, trails body wash over your skin, and you feel completely cared for in his embrace. This is new, this level of affection and attention after something so intense. With Jeno, it was always straight to sleep, never this depth. But with Mark, you find yourself spending the night held close, his arms wrapped around you, feeling safe, satisfied, and genuinely cherished for the first time in a long while.

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The morning sun spilled gently through the curtains, casting a soft glow that illuminated the room with a warm, amber light. You were wrapped securely in Mark’s arms, the comforting presence of his body intertwined with yours under the soft sheets. For the first time in ages, you woke feeling completely at peace, savoring the best sleep you’d had in so long. The thought flickered through your mind that you could definitely get used to mornings like this.

However, tranquility shattered the instant you opened your eyes and saw Karina standing at the foot of the bed, her eyes wide and fixed on both of you. Panic surged through your veins, and a scream escaped your lips, sharp and loud. Karina, equally startled, screamed back, the sound echoing in the small room.

Mark, awoken by the commotion, sat up abruptly. His eyes darted to Karina, but he remained silent, assessing the situation with a calm that contrasted sharply with the chaos of the moment.

She stood frozen, her eyes darting between you and Mark, her expression a complex tapestry of shock, confusion, and something deeper—perhaps hurt. The air felt charged, heavy with words unspoken and questions unasked.

“Karina, I—” Your voice broke as you scrambled for words, the initial panic giving way to a deep-seated embarrassment. You clutched the sheet to your chest, acutely aware of your nakedness.

Mark’s hand found yours under the sheets, giving a reassuring squeeze. Unlike your visible distress, he remained unnervingly calm, his gaze steady on Karina. “It’s not what it looks like,” You started, but the cliché sounded hollow even to your own ears.

Karina’s eyebrows knitted together, her expression a mix of confusion and hurt as she struggled to find the right words. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, the struggle evident in her face. Finally, managing to push past the lump in her throat, she asked in a choked voice, “How long?”

You could feel Mark tense beside you, the muscles in his body tightening as he absorbed the weight of her question, laden with implications and unspoken accusations. He remained silent, however, allowing you to handle the conversation, understanding his unfamiliarity with Karina meant it was not his place to speak.

“Only once, we’ve only fucked once so far.” You began, your voice soft, attempting to keep the situation calm, “can we talk about this outside?” The bedsheet clutched tightly in your hands, you tried to convey sincerity, hoping she’d agree to a more private discussion away from the charged atmosphere of the bedroom.

You watched as Karina’s gaze shifted to you, her eyes searching yours. There was a sadness there, deep and poignant, hinting at more than just the shock of the discovery. Swallowing hard, you slipped from the bed, wrapping yourself in the sheet and stepping toward her.

“Please, Karina, don’t tell anyone,” you pleaded, your voice barely above a whisper. Your hands reached out, touching her arm lightly. “I know this is a lot, but we didn’t mean for it to happen like this.”

You grabbed Karina’s hand, the urgency to maintain privacy pressing upon you. With a gentle tug, you led her towards the door, placing a finger to your lips to signal the need for silence. Together, you tiptoed across the room, your whispers merging with the soft creaks of the floorboards, ensuring your voices remained low enough to evade Mark’s ears.

Karina’s mood shifted abruptly, leaving you momentarily disoriented as her shock morphed into a whirlwind of excitement. Her hands came together with a clap, her eyes widening with a childlike glee as she squealed, “How did this happen?”

You laughed, the sound mingling with a sigh of relief. Though you weren’t entirely sure if her excitement was genuine, it was certainly a welcome change from the suspicion and disappointment. “He just came to my room, and we started talking, and one thing led to another,” you mumbled, keeping your voice low, still half-wrapped in the sheet.

You let out a breath, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth as you recalled the unexpected turn of events. “It was unexpected, he sked if he could help with my assignment, so I said yeah. I took photos of him, and then he took my camera and started taking photos of me. He asked me to take my clothes off, and yeah… it just went off from there.”

Her eyes widened even further, and she gasped dramatically, leaning in closer. “His cock?”

You stifled a moan at the memory, nodding slightly at her unspoken question. “It’s so big.”

“And how was he?” Karina leaned in, her curiosity piqued as if she were gathering details for a juicy story.

“He was good, yeah, really good,” you confessed, your cheeks heating up as you remembered the intensity. “He definitely knows how to handle a girl. Clearly not his first time.” You paused, biting your lip as you considered how much to share. “And… he was holding back a bit because, you know, it was a lot for me at first. It took a few tries for him to even get fully inside of me.”

Karina’s eyes sparkled with a mix of astonishment and amusement. “So, are you guys, like, a thing now, or was this a one-time thing?”

You hesitated, the reality of the situation settling in. “I’m not sure yet. We haven’t really defined anything. It just happened so fast, and now I’m trying to wrap my head around it all.” A rush of boldness swept over you as you added, “But honestly, I wouldn’t mind fucking him more. He feels really good inside of me.”

Karina nodded, her expression turning a tad more serious. “Just be careful, okay? I mean, it’s exciting and all, but don’t get swept away without considering the consequences.”

You appreciated her concern, knowing it stemmed from a place of friendship and care. “I will,” you assured her, feeling a mixture of gratitude and caution. “Thanks, Karina. It means a lot to have you looking out for me.”

After reassuring Karina that you would catch up with her properly later, you offer her a smile as she heads downstairs to grab some breakfast. The moment she’s out of sight, you let out a deep sigh of relief and make your way back into the bedroom. The air feels heavy, saturated with the lingering tension of the earlier encounter.

Mark is still lying in bed, his eyes closed, seemingly lost in thought or perhaps trying to grasp the remnants of sleep. As you approach, he senses your presence and without opening his eyes, reaches out to pull you back into the warmth of his embrace. His skin is warm against yours, but it does little to soothe the chill of apprehension that has crept into your bones. Gently, he presses a soft kiss to your forehead, a silent reassurance amidst the storm of emotions.

“All okay?” he whispers, his voice low and concerned as he pulls you closer, seeking to envelop you in his security.

You nod against his chest, the rise and fall of his breathing steadying your own. “Yeah, I just told her not to tell anyone until we figure out what this is.” Your voice is a mix of determination and worry, echoing the complexity of your feelings.

He sighs, a sound that carries a mix of relief and something else—perhaps resignation or a touch of dread for the complications yet to come. “Okay, good,” he murmurs, his arms tightening around you as if to fortify you both against the challenges ahead.

As you lay there, tucked into Mark’s embrace, the room fills with a silence that speaks louder than words. The conversation with Karina, while out of earshot, hangs over you like a specter, its implications darkening the edges of this quiet moment. The reality of your situation, of the secret you now both carried, was weighty and complex. You wonder about the fragility of this newfound attraction you had for Mark, about how the truth, once disclosed, might alter everything.

His steady heartbeat against your ear is a constant reminder of the present, of the choices you’ve made, and the ones still looming ahead. Mark’s hand moves to stroke your hair gently, a soothing gesture that belies the anxiety that you both feel. “Stop worrying and just close your eyes, get some sleep,” he says soothingly, his voice a calming balm. “I got you.”

You press closer, feeling the heat of his naked body against yours, a vivid reminder of how you fucked earlier even after your bath, when you both surrendered to a series of intense, passionate rounds. “Okay,” you whisper back, letting the firmness of his embrace and the sincerity in his words soothe you towards sleep.

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The cool autumn air nipped at your skin as you made your way to the gymnasium for another away match. Despite the warmth and safety you had felt wrapped in Mark’s arms earlier that morning, reality beckoned. The game was due to start within the hour, and the atmosphere around the court was buzzing with anticipation.

As you approached, the scene unfolded vibrantly before you. The team was already on the court, running drills and warming up with a focused intensity. Nearby, your fellow cheerleaders were gathered, practicing their routines and cheering, their voices rising in synchronized chants that filled the air with excitement.

You slipped into your cheer uniform with a sense of resignation, feeling the familiar snugness of the sleek, blue and gold ensemble that hugged your figure and ended in a flared skirt. Although the outfit usually made you feel pretty and empowered, today it felt more like a costume you were obligated to wear. As you tied your hair up and secured your pompoms, it wasn’t giddiness that washed over you, but a sense of duty; you were dragging yourself through the motions, mustering the energy to perform your role despite not wanting to be there.

The game kicked off with high energy as you took your place on the sidelines. From here, you had a clear view of both the game and the entrance. You noticed Jeno frequently glancing towards the door with an expression of mixed anticipation and dread. When his father finally appeared, taking a seat in the stands with a stern posture and an unyielding gaze, you saw Jeno’s demeanor change instantly. His movements on the court became forceful, overly aggressive as if each pass and shot were a desperate plea for approval.

“Jeno seems really tense today, doesn’t he?” Karina leaned over and whispered to you as she noticed his aggressive gameplay.

“Yeah, his dad just showed up,” you replied, nodding towards the imposing figure in the stands.

Jeno’s father was a strict, uptight man with sharp features that seemed permanently etched into a frown. His presence was commanding, and his eyes rarely showed emotion, giving him a cold, intimidating aura. You had seen him a few times before but had always avoided interaction; his severe demeanor and the tension that followed him were enough to keep you at a distance.

As the game unfolded, Jeno and Mark, despite the clear tension and their notably strained relationship, surprisingly found a rhythm together on the court. Their coordinated movements and strategic plays became increasingly effective, slowly winning over the crowd.

Donghyuck’s voice boomed over the speakers, narrating the match with enthusiasm, “And what a play by the brothers! Despite the family drama we’ve all heard about, Mark and Jeno are turning up the heat on the court!”

Mark executed a swift, strategic pass to Jeno, aiming to capitalize on a brief opening in the opposing team’s defense. However, under the weight of his father’s intense scrutiny and the mounting pressure, Jeno fumbled the catch. The ball slipped through his fingers, rolling off to be intercepted by a player from the opposing team. This mistake quickly turned into a counterattack, resulting in the opposing team scoring a crucial point. The crowd’s reaction was immediate—murmurs of disappointment and frustration filled the air, mirroring the dismay on Jeno’s face as he glanced apologetically towards Mark.

His voice cut sharply through the commotion of the crowd, not with generic cheers but with pointed, critical commands. “Jeno, focus! Stop getting distracted!” he barked, loud enough for not just Jeno but everyone nearby to hear. His words, filled with frustration and command, resonated across the court, causing some of the other spectators to shift uncomfortably in their seats. The intense scrutiny and public criticism only added to the tense atmosphere, underlining the challenging dynamics that Jeno was grappling with during the game.

“Tempers are really heating up on the court!” Donghyuck observed, his tone reflecting the palpable tension filling the gym. “It’s clear there’s a lot more at stake here than just points and plays.”

The tension reached a boiling point when an opposing player fouled Jeno aggressively. Mark instinctively stepped in, his reaction quick and protective. The situation quickly spiraled into a physical altercation, with teammates and referees rushing to intervene. The crowd gasped and murmured as the players were pulled apart, the underlying familial pressures and frustrations manifesting in the chaos on the court.

After the game, as the crowd began to disperse, you saw Jeno’s father approach him, his voice stern as he critiqued Jeno for his “lack of control” on the court. His cold dismissal of his son’s efforts was painful to witness, and as you watched, your understanding of the toxic dynamics within their family deepened.

Feeling a profound sympathy for Mark, who had tried to protect his brother despite the personal cost, you decided to approach him. Mark was sitting on the bench, nursing a bruise that had formed on his arm and a visible injury on his face. You walked over cautiously, your approach gentle, trying to convey your concern without overwhelming him.

“Hey, that was some game,” you started, your tone deliberately light but tinged with genuine concern at his injuries.

He glanced up, managing a weak smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s nothing serious. Just a scratch,” he murmured, referring to the bruising that was starting to bloom along his arm and face.

“Do you wanna come with me?” he asked suddenly, his voice low as he stood up stiffly from the bench.

“Where?” you replied, curious about his sudden urge to escape.

“I don’t know where. I just need to get away from here,” he confessed, his gaze drifting towards the direction to the locker room, a quiet spot away from the remaining spectators.

Following his lead, the door shut behind you with a definitive thud, sealing off the outside world. Mark turned to you, his expression a mix of vulnerability and need. Without a word, he stepped closer, reducing the space between you. His gaze locked onto yours for a brief moment, then his hands found the small of your back, pulling you firmly against him. In one swift, fluid motion, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was hard and urgent, his mouth moving against yours with a force that spoke of deep desperation.

Mark’s hands moved to your waist, his grip both firm and gentle. He lifted you slightly, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist. The closeness intensified, your bodies pressing together in a way that felt both thrilling and dangerous. He began to sit down on a nearby bench, pulling you even closer, but a sudden rush of awareness made you pull back. Shaking your head, you tried to slide off his lap, realizing the inevitable outcome—a quick, intense sexual encounter with him, the thought of his cock sliding into you making you pause. You were both intensely horny, and the risk of being caught only added to the tension.

Mark, sensing your hesitation, tightened his grip, his fingers digging into your skin with a silent plea. He leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a firm, urgent kiss that conveyed his desire clearly. As he pulled back slightly, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your lips as he whispered, “Stay.” The firmness of his erection pressed against you, a clear and insistent signal of his arousal. Overwhelmed by the intensity of his need, and the undeniable physical connection sparking between you, your resolve melted away. You let out a soft sigh of relief and settled back down onto him, no longer able to resist the compelling force of his touch. The heat of his body enveloped you, driving away any lingering doubts as you both succumbed to the thrilling urgency of the moment.

At his gentle coaxing, you had moved closer, positioning yourself to straddle his lap while being mindful of his injuries. As you settled onto him, his hands rested lightly on your hips, guiding you down with care. The smile he gave you was tender, almost grateful, and you couldn’t help but return it with a sweet, somewhat mischievous grin, secretly pleased that he had convinced you to sit so close. The proximity was immediate and electric; the contact sparked a palpable energy that coursed through you both, your heartbeat syncing with his in a rhythm that felt as natural as breathing.

Your gaze flickers briefly toward the first aid kit positioned on a nearby bench. Reaching for the first aid kit, you felt the shift in his breathing as you moved, his chest rising more sharply against yours. “You don’t have to,” he murmured, his hands sliding to your lower back, holding you securely, almost as if he was afraid you’d pull away.

“It’s okay. I want to take care of you,” you responded, your voice barely above a whisper as you opened the kit and began to extract the necessary supplies. You turned back to face him, meeting his gaze. There was a warmth there, inviting and deep, pulling you in. Slowly, deliberately, you leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. It was a gentle brush, tender but laden with all the emotions stirring between you.

Mark responded instinctively, his lips parting slightly under yours as one of his hands moved to cradle the back of your neck, guiding the kiss into something less cautious, more open. You could feel the roughness of his palm, a stark contrast to the softness of the kiss. His other hand traveled up, tracing the line of your spine through the fabric of your uniform, sending shivers of anticipation skittering down your back.

The air was charged as you carefully wrapped the bandage around his arm, the close proximity intensifying every subtle touch. Each circle of the bandage over his skin brought your fingers grazing against him, feeling the warmth of his body and the tension in his muscles responding to your care. His sharp intake of breath when the bandage pulled slightly too tight made you pause.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, your voice a soft whisper laden with concern, noticing his wince.

He shook his head gently, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of pain and a deeper, more intense longing. “It’s okay, not your fault.” He reassured you, his voice rough, edged with a raw emotion that sent shivers down your spine. His hands then moved from your hips, gliding up to your thighs, his touch deliberate and increasingly bold, pressing you closer against him.

Mark’s hands moved with purpose as he slid them under your skirt, his fingers brushing against the soft skin of your thighs. He pressed and kneaded your flesh with a fervent urgency, each movement deliberate and intense. His touch was skilled, confident as he explored, drawing you in tightly against him. Your bodies pressed closer, nearly fusing as his hands continued their assertive dance over your skin, heightening the physical connection between you.

The locker room was filled with the sound of your heavy, mingled breaths, punctuated by the subtle rustling of fabric as his hands explored further. The growing heat between you was palpable, Mark’s arousal pressing firmly against you, signaling his desire. A soft giggle escaped your lips, smothered by his in a kiss that was both hungry and profound.

“Baby… why don’t you ride my cock?” he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with unchecked desire, each word vibrating through you.

You pulled back slightly, your cheeks flushed with a mix of desire and bashfulness. “In here? People are gonna walk in on us and see us,” you whispered back, the thrill of being caught adding a sharp edge to your arousal.

With a nonchalant shrug and a dark, intense look in his eyes, he repeated, “I don’t mind,” his voice deep and seductive. It was an offer of sheer recklessness, and as you gazed into his eyes, you felt a daring part of yourself responding with equal fervor.

“I can’t believe you still have the energy, especially after this match.” You teased, your breath hot against his lips,

Mark, feeling your hesitation, intensified his grip, his hands firm on your hips as he pulled you closer. He kissed you deeply, his lips urgent against yours, effectively silencing any lingering doubts. As he broke the kiss, his face stayed close, his breath mingling with yours. “I’ll always have time for you,” he whispered huskily, his voice thick with desire. His hands roamed assertively over your body, tracing the curve of your spine, then sliding forward to the edge of your cheer uniform. His touch was deliberate, igniting sparks of arousal that radiated through your core. The hardness pressing against you was impossible to ignore, and his movements suggested he was more than ready to continue despite the day’s exertions.

As the heat between you intensified, you suddenly felt overwhelmed. Despite Mark’s firm grip, you managed to slide off his lap, your cheeks burning with a mix of arousal and embarrassment. He sighed deeply, a low moan escaping him as he leaned back, his head tipping upwards and his eyes closing in frustration.

“I—we should probably head back to the motel,” you stammered, your words tumbling out in a rush. “There’s the curfew, and…” Your voice trailed off, not quite sure how to navigate the sudden shift in atmosphere.

Mark opened his eyes and looked at you, a flash of understanding crossing his features before he sighed again, resigning himself to the reality of the situation. He stood up, the lines of his body tense yet controlled. Moving closer, he wrapped an arm securely around you, his touch now protective rather than persuasive. “Let’s go then,” he said, his tone gentle.

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As Mark draped his arm around your shoulders, the warmth of his touch contrasted with the cool air of the nearly empty gymnasium. The game was over, but the echo of bouncing basketballs still lingered as you both made your way towards the motel. Despite the intense moments in the locker room where Mark had coaxed and almost persuaded you to cross the line, you hadn’t ended up having sex. Yet, that didn’t diminish his touchy, affectionate nature that enveloped you now.

His lips found yours again, drawing a giggle from you as his kisses landed with a mix of playfulness and passion. He stopped walking, right in the middle of the gymnasium, and his hands cupped your face as he kissed you deeply, passionately. You responded without hesitation, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to pull him closer, sinking into the warmth of his embrace, feeling the firmness of his body against yours.

But as the heat between you intensified, reality nudged at your consciousness. You were literally in public, and the risk of being seen was too great. Reluctantly, you pulled away with a jolt, gasping for air. Your breath came in heavy, uneven bursts as you whispered, almost fearfully, “People will see us.”

Mark smiled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He tightened his grip around your waist, pulling you flush against him, his body a solid barrier against any lingering hesitation. “Look around, no one’s here,” he murmured against your ear, his voice a soothing whisper that steadied your racing heart. His reassurance, soft and certain, drew you back into his gravitational pull.

He kissed your lips again, softer this time, a tender brush that promised more but ended too soon, pulling back just enough to let you catch your breath yet not enough to let you retreat. “See? It’s just me and you here,” he reassured you with a gentle smile.

“Just me and you,” you repeated, your voice a whisper as you leaned in closer, your forehead resting against his.

“Good girl,” he affirmed softly, his breath warm against your skin, his approval sending a shiver down your spine.

Emboldened, you closed the small distance, pressing your lips to his in a kiss filled with all the pent-up desire of the evening. He chuckled, a low sound that vibrated through you, and met your desperation with equal fervour, his kiss deepening, hands roaming over your back as if memorising every curve.

A cough shattered the intimate atmosphere, snapping your heads towards the sound. The sudden intrusion spiked anxiety through your veins, a feeling that only intensified as you saw who was watching you with a judgmental yet amused expression: Lee Taeyong, Jeno and Mark’s father.

“Let’s go,” Mark muttered tersely. He didn’t acknowledge his father, didn’t meet his eyes. It was as if Taeyong were invisible to him, a poignant reversal of how Taeyong had always treated Mark—as if he never existed in his heart, never seen as his son.

Mark gripped your hand, his touch firm, and began to walk in the opposite direction, but you froze when Taeyong’s rough, sneering voice cut through the tension.

“Jumping from one Lee to the next, aren’t we? I never took you for a whore, Y/N.” He said, his voice laden with a contemptuous snicker that echoed through the empty gym. His eyes scanned you with a cold, scrutinizing look that felt like an overt accusation of your character.

Mark’s response was immediate; his knuckles whitened as he balled his hands into fists, the muscles in his jaw twitching as he fought the urge to confront his father physically. Yet, he managed to maintain a semblance of calm, drawing in deep breaths to steady himself.

“Don’t talk to her like that,” Mark’s voice was low, dangerously controlled. “Don’t even look at her. You have no right to judge, not after everything. Watch it, Taeyong.”

The intensity in Mark’s voice was unmistakable, a clear warning laced with years of pent-up frustration and anger. His stance was protective, placing himself subtly between you and his father, his body language declaring that he wouldn’t tolerate any more insults.

Grabbing your hand, he pulled you away firmly, his steps quick and decisive as he led you towards the exit. “Let’s get out of here,” he murmured, his voice still tense but softer now, directed only at you. As you walked away, the weight of his father’s words lingered, but Mark’s defense reassured you, his loyalty clear and unwavering in the face of his father’s provocation.

The cold air hit your faces as you stepped outside, the gym’s heavy atmosphere replaced by the night’s sharp chill. Your mind was racing, anxiety swirling within as the reality of Taeyong’s potential backlash began to set in. It was undeniable—Taeyong knowing about you and Mark could never be good. You feared he would use this revelation against you, perhaps even as a weapon in some twisted game of control.

As you glanced at Mark, you saw the changes in him: his usually expressive eyes were now stormy and distant, his jaw set in a hard line. The grip he had on your hand tightened, not painfully, but with a protective intensity that was both comforting and slightly alarming. He was silent as you walked, each step seeming to take him further into his own turbulent thoughts.

The silence between you stretched, filled only with the echo of your footsteps and the distant hum of the city around you. The tension from the confrontation hung heavily, a foreboding shadow that neither of you could shake off.

As you reached the car, Mark broke the heavy silence, his voice low and tinged with regret. “I’m sorry you had to hear that,” he said, his expression somber. “Don’t listen to him, okay? Not a word he says.”

“It’s not your fault,” you replied softly, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze, trying to ease the weight of the situation he carried.

Mark shook his head slightly, a determined edge to his voice as he looked you directly in the eyes. “No, but don’t believe a word that idiot says. It’s all just noise.” His hand reached up to gently brush a stray lock of hair from your face, a protective gesture that softened his stern expression.

“I know,” you murmured, feeling the solidarity between you strengthening despite the shadows of the night’s events.

As you drove through the quiet streets, a gnawing fear took hold. You found yourself praying that Taeyong wouldn’t escalate things further, especially not involving Jeno. The uncertainty of what lay ahead left you uneasy, the comfort of Mark’s presence a small solace against the potential storm that might be brewing.

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