#the hottest mf out there

[atheliacs]

special interest aquired!! In love with Sackson and Ripper Street in general

Long Susan Hart- Caitlin Swift (Jenny)

Homer Jackson- Mathew Judge( Husband)

“It was me and you. You and me. And ever will be. Because of our boy. We are in him. One. So you go, and you raise him good. Raise him right.” “I’ll think of how we were made, and I’ll do the reverse. I love you. I won’t ever stop.”

[jelliclekay]

no but for real I really only have confidence in my looks when I'm in cat

[absolutelyzoned]

should i cosplay red hood or roach. i need to decide like. halfway through september. olease

[seraqhites]

why are all of my mutuals so attractive.

[weiwx]

vi and sevika beating the shit out of each other is so hot

[thesaintelectric]

im not particularly tall but i have tall proportions which i forget until i wear any skirt and/or heels and my self confidence immediately tripples. time to be the most fuckable person in the co-op yet again

[racew1nn3rs]

─ 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘦 𝘪𝘷. (𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘴) 🐅

⤷ summary: spain and canada. lando's rizz is negative, mission is failed. plus, mclaren pr is about to fuck shit up 🗣️

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liked by ynusername, zbrownceo, and 42,908 others

mclaren spain you were forgettable at best 😔 on to the next one

18,980 others

user1 y/n don't insult your team on the team account challenge

mclaren is it really an insult if it's true

user2 we got a lando photo but at what cost

user3 lando fans can never win here

mclaren why you would ever choose to be a lando fan to begin with is beyond me

user2 you're so right queen i'm sorry

landonorris DON'T APOLOGIZE WTF

user2 fuck both of y'all honestly

user4 at least mclaren fans can always count on content, even if we can't expect results 😭

user5 lando and y/n in their friendship era, how the fuck did we get here

landonorris you're posting me now? oh you want me so bad 🥴

mclaren sending this to hr immediately

ynusername YOU'RE FIREEEDDDDDDD

user6 damn she logged into both accounts just to make sure he heard her ass 💀 double homicide

user7 oscar fans i can't even tell if we won or lost

user8 we didn't get a face pic but... we didn't get whatever the fuck the 3rd slide is

landonorris guys pLEASE

landonorris i won't post it she says... it's just for me she says

user9 LMAOOOO AND YOU BELIEVED HER???? 🤣 🫵

landonorris going dark, no one call me

user9 was anyone going to anyways 💀

user10 LET HIM GET UPPPP

oscarpiastri i'll pay you 20 dollars if you don't ever do this to me

mclaren 🤝

mclaren i mean you were never the target but now you will be if i don't get my money!!!!

oscarpiastri oh ok

lilyzneimer i have pictures you can you use if you need bb <3

oscarpiastri WHOSE SIDE ARE YOU ON

zbrownceo Very funny Y/n! Keep up the good work 👍

mclaren Thanks boss! (:

landonorris ZAK WHY

user11 zak is so supportive now, wait until he sees her comments 💀

zbrownceo I have seen her comments! Very funny! 👍

user11 blink twice zak, we can help you

maxverstappen1 This is the highlight of my week, thank you Y/n!

mclaren hey max verstappen of redbull racing! not sure if you heard but you did win the grand prix this weekend

maxverstappen1 No i know, this is just definitely better.

ynusername where's my photo credits 🫵

mclaren my bad bbg 😍

user12 nurse she got out again

oscarpiastri we'll win next time!!

mclaren who told you that 🤨

oscarpiastri the voices in my head

logansargeant you hold on bro, we'll find your meds soon

user13 i think moto moto likes you ahh image

user14 i need to shrink him and put him in my pocket and keep him there

user15 which one?

user14 lando

landonorris nuh uh, pick again

maxfewtrell you can't post pictures without consent mate

mclaren i didn't??

landonorris i didn't consent.

mclaren who are you gonna believe max? me? or the solid concrete evidence in front of you

user16 he looks like he can do some crazy tricks on a trampoline

landonorris this is the only comment about myself that hasnt made me viscerally angry

oscarpiastri unfortunately i feel the opposite

user17 lany/n at it again

user18 literally what the fuck do you mean

user17 if you dont get it, i can't explain it to you

user18 okay cryptic ass, fuck you 🙄

user19 they're in love guys, just wait and see

user20 yall just love saying stupid shit on this page huh

user19 i hate getting accused of some shit i actually do 😡 like yeah i do love that but who told you

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user20 op be so fr right now

user21 everytime one of these illiterate f1 drivers pulls one of the hottest women on earth a fairty dies

user21 *fairy

user22 fairty

user21 you shut the fuck up 🫵

user23 people when coworkers are seen together at their place of work

user24 do you hug your coworkers and follow them like a lost puppy when you could be on a break

user23 wtf no

user24 EXACTLY MF, THIS IS NOT COWORKERS BEING COWORKERS

user25 history will say they were just colleagues 😔

opeightywon this shit is a national tragedy

user26 every time i see a post like this i think about the fact that she has probably seen this and i shiver

user27 honestly praying on their downfall

opeightywon wtf

user28 lando fans be normal challenge

user27 idgaf about that white man, she's just too hot for him 😕

opeightywon oh yeah real

user29 i need another youtube video where they stare at each other longingly again asap or i fear i may start having withdrawal symptoms

user30 another hot girl lost to an average white man's swagless looks and cringe fail personality i feel sick

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liked by landonorris, lilyzneimer, and 44,786 others

mclaren not our best results in canada but we improved i guess 🙄 but on a much better, more exciting note: NEW MCLAREN YOUTUBE CHALLENGE OUT GO GO GO GO

17,998 comments

user31 my crops are watered, my skin is clear, my funds are tripled

mclaren all me 😮‍💨

user32 "yay challenge video" we all cry in unison

user33 OSCAR FANS IS IT REAL??? HAS IT COME TRUE??? IS THAT A FACE PIC I SEE

user34 and it's good quality too 🤩 what did we do to deserve this

mclaren you don't, but oscar bought me coffee all weekend

oscarpiastri yes i bribed her, i feel no shame

user35 lando's back in the dog house bro, he's back to no face pics

user36 but look at his beautiful brown eyes

mclaren babe they're greenish blue with the TINIEST bit of brown 💀

user37 how long you gotta stare at a man's eyes to know the exact paint blend 🫵

user38 DOWN HORRENDOUSSSSSS

lilyzneimer insert comical heart eyes here

mclaren flirting with your man 🤢 on MY cellular device

lilyzneimer my bad bb, he doesn't mean anything to me anyways 🥴

oscarpiastri ok what the fuck

danielricciardo DROP THE CAMERA SETTINGS AND MY LIFE IS YOURS

mclaren check dms 🤲

danielricciardo thanks love you're the best

landonorris LOVE??? LMAOOOO

user39 bro is losing the dgaf war MISERABLY

user40 the way lando is staring at her the whole time she's behind the camera 😫 oh he's not even down bad, bro's down under

landonorris can i get the camera settings

mclaren has anyone ever told you how good you are at photography?? i'm not saying that, i'm just asking 😀

landonorris oKAY fuck you.

user41 the way she doesn't even pretend to care about the results

landonorris i know 🙄

mclaren i know p13 is nawttt talking back to me right now

user41 OHHH SHE ATE YOU UP HUH

landonorris y'all are some fake ass fans fr

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8:57 PM.

Y/n stared at the flashing numbers on the digital clock in the boardroom and huffed quietly. The table in front of her was covered in a mix of shredded mozzarella cheese and vibrant, red pizza sauce. Flour with evidence of handprints and bits of pizza dough decorated the wood and the woman internally sighed at the thought of clean up. Eventually she would have to get back to work.

Lando was on his phone across the table from her, and she fought the urge to stare at him. Oscar had left a while ago, having an earlier flight than them out of Canada. Lando and her had made the executive decision to stay and finish the pizza the two men had made during the "not my hands" YouTube challenge. It was messy, and didn't fully resemble a proper pizza, but it tasted good enough if not a little bit burnt. The two had been sitting in a comfortable silence for the time being while they ate.

In the time Y/n had gotten to know the British man, both on and off the track, she found herself warming up to him considerably. He was kinder than she gave him credit for at the beginning of the season, and far funnier. She could see now that more often than not he spoke without thinking or having any consideration, and maybe he was more than a little bit arrogant, but he also felt things deeply and cared passionately.

Before she could think about what she was doing, Lando's eyes met hers and he smirked. Y/n's face burned but she rolled her eyes at him and took another bite of their burnt pizza. Her ears caught the sound of him placing his phone on the table, and when she looked up again he was leaning his body across the table and toward her instead.

"What are you staring at? Hm?" He teased and she scoffed.

"You," she started and took another bite of her pizza, "have pizza sauce all over your face, you idiot. And I'm just thinking, not sure if you're familiar with the concept." He grabbed a napkin quickly and began wiping rapidly at his chin and mouth, and even his nose. She couldn't help but laugh loudly. There was nothing on his face. He was perfect actually. Unfortunately.

"Did I get it? Why didn't you tell me sooner, traitor!" She doubled over but nodded anyways.

"What are you thinking about?" he questioned as he settled back down.

"Just the season, you and Oscar," she muttered.

"Me? Thinking of little ol' me when I'm right here in front of you," she rolled her eyes with a groan.

"You have selective hearing Lando," he laughed and nodded.

"Well what have you thought about it? The season I mean. And myself of course, don't care much what you think about Osc," he leaned on his hand and stared at her intently. Y/n couldn't help that being stared at by Lando felt a little bit like being ocean, being pulled and pushed by the moon's gravity. Her brain didn't work properly around him.

Or maybe I'm just really dramatic and he's just hot, she thought miserably, Probably the latter.

"I just think maybe you and me got off on the wrong foot," she said as she fumbled with the lid of her water bottle, "and I think that maybe I enjoy this job a lot more than I thought I would." The comments seemed to sober Lando's mood up slightly.

Maybe I shouldn't have been truthful. Maybe it shouldn't have been that serious.

"What did you think of me?" He asked quietly. "When you met me I mean."

"Do you want me to be honest?" He looked at her quizzically.

"Of course I want you to be honest Y/n, or I wouldn't have asked."

"I thought you were kind of an asshole," she whispered and he laughed.

"So the beef was real for you," he smiled slightly and she let her face fall gently into her hands.

"Yeah," she breathed out a laugh, "yeah maybe a little."

"Doesn't seem like a little," he goaded and she shot him a glare.

"Okay Lord Lando, maybe more than a little," he pointed at her triumphantly.

"AHA! So it was the instagram comment. I thought you knew I was kidding," A loud groan filled the room as she smacked her head on the table. Lando's giggling could probably be heard down the hall but Y/n found she didn't care all that much anymore.

"It wasn't just the instagram comment," she defended weakly. There was a brief silence as Lando stared into space and shook his head.

"Wow... I can't believe you were actually mad at me and I just didn't know."

"It wasn't that big of a deal I guess, I just felt like you didn't really take me seriously."

"Well I mean you're not a very serious person," Y/n's heart fell to her stomach.

"What?" She asked, staring at him. She couldn't have heard him right.

"Well it's just that you're not very serious are you? Like since I met you, it's never felt like you were a serious sort of person." He added as if that was some sort of defense.

As if that isn't more hurtful.

"You're not like Zak or Andrea, or really anyone else here you know? You're just you, you're different. It was hard to be serious with you here because that's just who you are." He continued.

God just shut up, please for the love of God just shut up.

"This is my place of work Lando," she muttered bitterly. "I mean do you hear yourself." His eyes widened and he put his hands out placatingly. Like she was some sort of rabid animal he needed to calm down.

"No no no," he muttered quickly and stood up to round the table, "that's not what I meant Y/n, you know that."

"Stop Lando, just stop," she said as she began to clear off the table.

Why did she expect him to be different. What made her think he could've changed.

"You made it perfectly clear what you mean. What you think of me and of my work, my career" she spit out, swiping everything on the table into the trash. They hadn't finished eating the pizza and now it was in the bin, but Lando didn't deserve to eat the pizza she helped him make. He didn't deserve to be here at all. He wasn't her friend, he was her coworker and nothing else. It was better she accept that now.

"You misunderstood what I said," he grabbed her arm to stop her from cleaning and she whipped it out of his grasp.

"Stop Lando," she said raising her voice. She knew her eyes were teary but she didn't care. She knew her face was red with embarrassment and her hands were shaking with the force of her humiliation but she didn't care. Lando Norris could go fuck himself.

He looked at her in shock and winced as he saw her face. She steeled herself. She had never cried over a man before, why would she do it now.

"You need to leave, you have a flight in the morning," she said emotionlessly. "And I have to clean so I can go home." He tried to speak and she put her hand up, stepping away from him.

"Get out please, you're in my way," she said and his brows scrunched. He was angry? Good, so was she.

"I'm in your way?" He asked incredulously, as if she didn't have any reason to be upset. "You're not even going to hear me out?" He scoffed.

"No Lando, I don't have time for this. I have a job to do and you're in my way," she said emphasizing the words as if speaking to a child. His face fell. He looked angry.

"Whatever Y/n. What fucking ever," he muttered, grabbing his bag and storming out. Y/n waited. Footsteps in the hallways continued until a far off door slammed.

Y/n wilted like an unwatered plant as tears began to fall.

So much for friends.

She knew deep down she was hurt about much more than just friendship.

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this is the second to last chapter of part one! i hope you enjoy! please feel free to comment and send requests, i'm excited to hear your thoughts <3

-

𝙩𝙖𝙜 𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

@lemon-lav @slutforpopculture @m4rt10ne @urfavsgf @sadsierra2 @96jnie @sltwins @poppyflower-22 @alliumiae @livelovesports @liberty-barnes @the-holy-trinity-l @iliwyss @awritingtree @redpool @elliotts1one @velentine @chaoticmessneutralplease @5sospenguinqueen @charizznorizz @2pagenumb @mxdi0 @cwiphswmwasohmm @tremendousstarlighttragedy @lnspipedrm @itseightbeats @tinycoffeeroom @woozarts @personwhoisther @a-beaverhausen @love-simon @annabellelee @ravisinghs-wife @chezmardybum @greantii @weekendlusting @monserelates @sapphiccloud @halleest @deamus-liv @gigigreens @morenofilm @laneyspaulding19 @lanireadss @dear-fifi @moldyshorts1997 @oliviarodrigostan13 @eugene-emt-roe @ilivbullyingjeongin @im-a-ghost666

[lucyandthepen]

salted caramel | lmh ( m )

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

read the first part here!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Today is no exception.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re fucking impossible!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh…” you say smartly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s that mean?”

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

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

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

“Meaning?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s happening to me next time?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then I’ll teach you next time.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Gotta study all the same.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bingo.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

“If… who’s right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’d take it if you were with me.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Just promise me.”

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

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

On the third time, Mark pretty much gives up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Would if I could.”

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

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

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

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

“So come to class and write it yourself!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’d you get probation for, then?”

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

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

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

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

“You doing that too?”

“Shut — please, would you hurry?”

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

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

“Nothing. You’re lucky.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about yours?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then why are you—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s this even about?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No kidding.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s on your mind?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What does that have to do with me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop doing that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A mouth made for you to kiss.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you not want to?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“At least give me a full minute.”

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s… still a no for me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I want to hear it anyway.”

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

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

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

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

“Mark, what—”

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

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

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

“What’s your passcode?”

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

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

“What’s funny?”

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

“To what?” He sounds bemused.

“The view of me you have now.”

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

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

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

“With my life.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi, Hyuck.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m doing it right now.”

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

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

“Mark, I…. I’ve been— s-since—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“His cock fucking me in my stomach.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I already am.”

[viasdreams]

Nightwalker ཐི❤︎ཋྀ

'No human blood' is an extremely grueling rule for Donghyuck to live by, his fledgling vampire urges consuming his every thought. Some days, he finds himself struggling to hold onto his humanity, constantly fighting against his insatiable cravings. His human facade slips one night when he passes you, your bloody hand unknowingly guiding his monstrous actions.

or haechan accidentally sucks your blood and drama ensues

pairing: vampire haechan x fem! human reader

genre: social media alternative universe (smau), comedy, fantasy, angst

warnings: slight gore, lots of talk about blood, profanity, sex jokes, jokes about death, actual death (not character death but all the vampires are technically dead) kys/kms jokes

a/n: ahhh my first smau !! is this an excuse to make jokes about that favorite era pic of haechan? YES IT IS !! this will be a very silly story and not like horror/serious just so we're clear, i just liked the black aesthetic lol. ill still be posting one-shot texts so don't worry your pretty little heads :))

status: ongoing !!

taglist: open !!

profiles (1) ~ profiles (2)

01 milkies boy 02 live tweeting his crash out 03 hyuck finally kicking the bucket (written) 04 one wet dream about mark 05 ive read some nasty fanfic about him 06 r u jorking my shit rn?!?! 07 ok throat goat!! (written) 08 bad case of the squirts 09 clock crazy hours on the toilet 10 raises gun to mouth 11 my girl weiner hard rn 12 you're going shit butt 13 NEED one to maul me 14 the hottest of all the smurfs 15 plz shoot me and not with that gun (written) 16 main ingredient in that yummy manwich 17 do you know how to tie a noose? 18 i hope you get roofied every day!! 19 im jisung, your new owner (written) 20 bleeding in my tweak zone 21 especially you anime mfs 22 just lost all desire to cum 23 chugged a thing of toilet bowl cleaner (written) 24 hyuck's unbrushed tongue 25 hot girls stay fartin 26 i wanna know what vamp dick feels like 27 contributing to my spank bank 28 fine ass dad (written) 29 he got you goonin 30 and what if i shaved my gooch 31 my girl looks like a bloody tampon 32 shes worth like six cows 33 that gummy yummy

bonus: who's blood/dick do i have to suck | im not a sexbot, just a guy | yank on their peanits

[aurorawritestoescape]

GIVE ME HELL

Stepdad Joel Miller x f!reader || 1,9 k

part 4 of A Step Into Hell || can be read alone

Summary: you come home drunk and Joel isn’t happy. He decides to teach you a lesson.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, step-cest, Joel's POV, dub con (alcohol intoxication) but reader's very into it, big legal age gap, dark!Joel, mean!Joel, possessive!joel, jealous!Joel, pussy/cock pronouns, fingering, unprotected piv, creampie, degradation, slut shaming, a lil bit of praise kink, daddy kink, spanking (1), cum eating, mention of alcohol consumption, mention of unplanned pregnancy, swearing. The pics are for the mood only. Reader has no specific physical descriptions but wears a skirt.

A/n: huge thank you to 🎯 anon for the hottest thots😘 I used the schoolgirl skirt idea in this story, it suited the plot perfectly! Kisses to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing and for loving the mf💋I hope you all will enjoy this part! Love you!💞

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

SERIES MASTERLIST || MASTERLIST

Here you were. Miss ‘I need daddy’s cock to sleep’ came back from a party, looking like a whore. Who was surprised? Not Joel. A tight top was showcasing your gorgeous tits perfectly, a schoolgirl skirt was so short it was barely covering your ass. But what grabbed Joel’s attention immediately was your slightly smudged make up and your glossy eyes. Even in the dim light of the tv illuminating the dark living room Joel could see that you were drunk.

Probably trying not to sway, you purposefully leaned against the doorframe to say hi to your mother, your voice slightly higher than usual.

Joel wasn’t fooled by your act. A mix of rage and arousal set his body and mind on fire.

Drunk slut! Probably dragged your ass home after being groped and rubbed against all night. What if some horny frat boy fucked you?

Joel’s blood started boiling and your mother’s nonchalant attitude to the sight of you made him clench his fists even harder.

You needed to be punished. What wouldn’t he give to bend the whore over his lap and spank your juicy ass and slutty pussy. Fuck! His wife was next to him on the couch.

“How was the party?” she asked you with a smile.

“ ‘s ok. Going to bed. Good night.”

And you turned around and went upstairs. No! Not gonna happen. You weren’t getting out of it so easily.

Joel turned to his wife with his brows furrowed, having put a mask of virtuous concern on his face and hiding his semi with a throw blanket.

“Aren’t you gonna talk to her?”

”What about?”

“Her state? You ok with it?”

Your mother gave him a shrug.

“Yeah, she’s a little drunk but .. she’s been at a party. And she’s old enough to decide for herself whether to drink or not.”

Joel clenched his jaws but then took a deep breath, calming his nerves, and returned his eyes to the tv. Then he mumbled matter-of-factly, feigning his interest in the show,

“Hope ya ready to become a grandma then.”

He saw his wife fidget on the couch. Yeah, now someone was concerned!

“Why? What do you mean?”

“I mean that if you let her behave like that, then wait for her to get knocked up by some blogger or any other unemployed fucker. No college, no career. Doubt your ex’s gonna be happy that she ruined her future right under your nose.”

Joel glanced at his wife and shrugged like she’d done earlier. The naive bitch looked really worried.

Daddy Joel to the rescue!

“Honey, don’t panic. I’ll handle it. Let me talk to her. As a father figure.”

“Really? You’ll do that?” his wife asked with hope in her voice. Joel took her hand and looked into her eyes.

“Of course. I care about her. Very much.”

He wasn’t lying. You were his perfect fucktoy and he took care of the things that belonged to him.

“Don’t be too harsh on her,” his wife said as Joel got up and quickly adjusted his perked up cock.

“I’ll be gentle, don’t worry.”

Of course that was a lie. When Joel came up to your bedroom, he unceremoniously stormed in and locked the door behind him.

You were standing at your desk, smiling at your phone, probably sending out 1000000 slutty selfies from the party all over the internet.

“Hey! You can’t just barge in like that?” you exclaimed, pouting your pretty lips.

Joel placed his hands on his hips and grumbled with a glare,

“Wrong! It’s my house and I can do whatever the fuck I want. You on the other hand —,” he pointed his thick index finger in your direction and barked, ”— can’t!”

“What?” You seemed confused and tired but all Joel cared about at that moment were his heavy balls and stiffening cock, locked and loaded to ruin his stepdaughter’s hole.

” ’m here to have a talk with you.”

You giggled, “What talk? The birds and the bees?”

“Somethin like that,” Joel grunted, taking a step to you, and then pushed you to your desk.

“Joel!” you half whispered, half exclaimed, trying to stop him with your little palms on his chest, but Hurricane Joel couldn’t be stopped. He roughly grabbed your hips and made you sit on the edge of the desk.

“No… Mom’s downstairs…,” you mumbled softly, already melting when he settled between your spread thighs.

”Then be quiet. You can cry a lil. She’ll think you’re really sorry,” Joel sneered, looking down at you. His chest swelled with pride and dominance - he was big and strong and you were just a silly girl, who foolishly thought that she could do whatever she wanted. Hell no!

“Ya think you can come to my house drunk? Lookin like a whore who’s been passed around?”

You averted your eyes in shame, murmuring,

“Mm.. no. Jus’ had a few beers.”

“Did ya have a few cocks too?”

You shook your head before Joel grabbed your chin with two fingers and tilted your face up to look into your dopey eyes.

”You let anyone use you? Which hole? Bet your sexy schoolgirl skirt is soaked with cum.”

“No-no, daddy, I didn’t…”

He slowly glided his palms down over the fabric covering your hips and then pulled your skirt up, exposing your bare cunt.

A deep growl rose from Joel’s chest before he gruffed, his voice ringing with rage,

“Ya went to the fucking party with your cunt out in the open like that? Ready to serve any cock close enough to her?”

Joel's nostrils were flaring, his fists were clenching your skirt, as he was glaring down at you. He must have looked really scary because you widened your eyes and grabbed his thick forearms.

“Oh no-no-no, Joel! I took ’em off just before stepping inside. Like you told me, remember? No panties in the house.”

His dark eyes were darting between yours, searching for any sign of deceit.

“Hope you ain’t lyin to me,” he grunted, burning you with his fiery gaze.

“I swear, daddy.”

That ‘daddy’ really helped your case. Joel got more horny than mad and looked down at your pussy. Without a word he pushed a finger into your hole and you gasped.

“Did ya wet yourself? Or just that needy?” he asked, keeping the finger inside your sopping cunt. ”Who’s all this slick for? Someone at the party caught your eye?”

“No, I… I kept thinking about you, daddy.”

Joel smirked, “Yeah? What were you thinkin?”

“You… you doing things to me.”

“Hnggg,” Joel pulled his finger out of your hole and licked his skin clean with a lopsided grin on his glistening lips.

“You got horny-drunk, yeah, babydoll? Could’ve called daddy. I woulda come down there, dragged you to the bathroom and pumped ya little cunt full.”

“Really?” you asked with a drunk smile, your heart eyes set on Joel’s face.

“Course not, dumb slut. I ain’t drivin god knows where on a Friday night to fuck you. Especially when I know that the pussy is gonna come to me.”

You scrunched your nose and pouted.

“You’re so mean.”

“Ouch, you hurt my feelings!” Joel barked a laugh and roughly grabbed your pussy, making you moan. Then he leaned down to your face, so close your lips were almost touching, and you reached up to him, initiating a kiss, but Joel pulled away and instead squeezed your cheeks with his hand.

“I ain’t kissin your beer hole. And here’s the talk I promised you.”

You pushed his hand away and glared up at him. Your stepdad grabbed the back of your neck with one hand, your pussy with the other and continued,

”Ya got drunk. And drunk girls are always in danger of bein used. I reckon you better learn this lesson at home than at a party full of strangers, uh, sweetie?”

He shook his hand full of your cunt and you whimpered a needy “yeah”.

Then Joel pulled you off the desk and roughly spun you around. You squeaked but didn’t protest. Manhandling you was always easy, like dealing with a rag doll, especially now when you were drunk.

“We don’t have much time so let’s start,” he spit and pushed you down on the desk. In a second your hands were clasped by his hand behind your back, his huge cock bulge pressed to your naked ass, your holes ready for him to use.

“Daddy, fuck me,” you whined needily, wiggling your naked ass, brushing it against his hard-on.

Joel titled his head and grinned. The bitch was really desperate. You’d always been a slut for his dick but the alcohol seemed to have made you extra horny.

“You don’t deserve my cock today, slut, but all this slick can't go to waste”.

Joel let go of your wrists, tugged his sweatpants down and freed his leaking stallion. Then he roughly stabbed you with his length and shoved it to the hilt in one go. You took him easily, your pussy dripping with need for his giant schlong, and moaned into your palm, already fluttering around him. Suddenly, Joel froze.

“Wanna come on daddy’s cock?”

“Yeahhhh.”

“Yeah? Then work for it, baby,” he ordered through gritted teeth, keeping himself from bursting inside you — your cunt felt fucking fantastic as always.

“Daddyyyy…”

Your whine only made Joel laugh. He slapped your asscheek, and growled,

“Move! If your pussy wants the fireworks, ya better ride my horse cock. I ain’t doin shit for you tonight.”

He stood still with his hands holding your hips, his throbbing cock deep to the base inside you, while watching you squirm and almost cry with frustration. You begged him again but Joel didn’t move an inch while all his inches were being soaked by your crying pussy.

Probably having realized that he was serious, clumsily and slowly, on trembling legs, you started moving your body back and forth, exposing Joel’s shaft to his eyes and then swallowing it back with the greedy mouth of your cunt.

“Yeah, sweetie. You doin it, look at ya. Take what you need. Milk him dry, babydoll.”

Joel’s praise seemed to entice you, to inject some energy into your body, and you started fucking yourself with his cock faster and harder. Slapping noises filled the room as your ass was banging against Joel rougher and rougher. Your stepdad dug his fingers into your soft hips, watching you pleasure yourself with his hard cock.

“She’s so thirsty— wants to get drunk on daddy’s hot sperm, uh? — ’ll make her swallow it all to the drop.”

Panting heavily, Joel sounded intoxicated himself while talking about your wet cunt, seeing her rhythmically sucking in his fat length and spitting it out.

“Yeah, daddy. Please.”

“Good girl—,” Joel croaked and began emptying his balls inside you, pouring all his rage and jealousy into your pulsating cunt.

You came right after, almost crying on his exploding cock, pushing your face into your palms to muffle your ecstatic moans.

When Joel filled you full of his cum, he pulled out and stood over you splayed on the desk like a used fuckdoll. He was catching his breath, watching your winking hole drip his creamy jizz, then wiped his cock with your skirt and helped you up.

”If I see you drunk again in my house, I won’t let you come for a month, ya hear me?” Joel roared and you hastily nodded. Then his lips curved into a satisfied smile.

“I’m glad we had this talk.”

He looked you up and down again, shook his head and left the room.

Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic!<3

SERIES MASTERLIST || MASTERLIST

Tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk @pascaltesaye @fruityreads @itwasntimethatdidit40

People who were interested in pt 4, no pressure to read bbs: @sunshineispunk @bonezone44 @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @tateypots

[seungisms]

🖇️📁 𝐒𝐊𝐙 … 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐀 𝐒𝐀𝐅𝐄𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐃𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐄𝐗

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, angst and smut, do not interact if you’re under 18

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: unprotected sex, public sex, oral (female receiving), fingering, overstimulation, edging, degradation, soft!skz, hints of degenerate!jisung (might make a longer post for him in future cause i'm obsessed)

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: had this requested a bunch so thought i’d finally give u filthies what u want - ik i said soft sex with lix would be next but uh, plans changed (aka danni is struggling to write anything that isn’t a reaction/headcannons rn) so please forgive 🧎‍♀️reblog for a kiss, feedback much appreciated!

𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍

soso in love with the thought of turning you into the prettiest mess he’s ever seen during sex so it’s no surprise that he can get a little carried away :( doesn’t mean to though, he swears!! is just too busy lapping up the messy heaven between your legs to notice your choked begs to ‘slow down’, coaxing you towards orgasm again and again with fat licks against your pussy. lets out the m o s t obscene groans into your cunt, spit and cum covering his chin and sheets and he’s looking up at you with the most dreamiest eyes ever that it almost made you forget the stinging of your core from his relentless worship. you try your hardest to hold out, reminding yourself he wouldn’t even think about overstimulating you to this point if he knew how sensitive you currently felt, but you can’t help the safeword from tumbling out between your cries - and he’s off you within in a second. his hands are shaking, careful not to touch you and there’s so much shame and guilt swimming in his pretty eyes that you could almost cry, please just kiss this man!! will cup your face ever so softly and lean into the kiss, letting out small sniffles and apologies against your lips - and you can still taste yourself on his tongue, making you whine into the kiss and he would’ve thought it was the hottest thing ever if he wasn’t so focused on making it up to you. will overthink this so much and will spend the rest of the night doting on you, even if you insist you’re fine. no ma’am he’s gonna be loving on you until you’re sick of him <3

“oh baby, i’m so sorry :( i just get a little carried away with you sometimes.”

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐇𝐎

if there’s one thing this guy l o v e s it’s fucking you in public - just gets such a kick out of the sight of you trying your absolute hardest to hold in your whines and whimpers while he’s stretching you out real good and deep, knowing that any second someone could walk in and witness you being fucked like the slut he loves to claim you are. obsessed with risk of it all, rutting into you against some random dressing room door he pulled you into after a performance, filled with adrenaline and your pretty pussy being the only thing he could think about. every time this mf hears a voice approaching closer he’ll only fuck into you even harder, covering your whole body in his own until all you can see, taste, feel is him. normally you’d be all for public sex, clenching around and milking his cock until you were fucked dumb and covered in his hot cum, but hearing his managers and the other boys so close to the door made you panic and you couldn’t stop the safeword from coming out against his flushed skin. wouldn’t ever take your begs to stop seriously before, cause your hips rutting against his and the tugging of his hair only proved to him how much you actually wanted his dick despite your words. but he’ll do a complete 180 as soon as hears that safeword, pulling you skirt over you cum soaked thighs as you both stilled, finally hearing the voice (that he swore was jisung) fading away into another room. will be extremely pissy that he didn’t get to shoot his load (please he’ll be like a moody teenage boy) but he has to admit he does like the sight of you being left hanging, begging him to fuck you again even though you couldn’t handle the risk.

“gonna kill that mf.”

𝐒𝐄𝐎 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐁𝐈𝐍

can be such a meany with you during sex sometimes, especially after a rough day in the studio. takes all his frustrations out on you and won’t hesitate to manhandle you if you’re being bratty, his only goal in sight being painting your plush walls in his hot cum and your dumb little back talk won’t stop him. angry sex will be such a blur with him, one minute he has his fingers shoved deep inside your pussy and the next they’re wrapped tightly around your neck with his cock drilling into you with so much force the only thing you could let out were choked moans and he was practically eating them up. normally you like when he manhandles you like this, but something about tonight - with his fingers pressing down on your windpipes, tears blurring your sight and the feeling of your cunt all puffy and sensitive from his constant poundings had you choking out the safeword. despite having pretty bad pussy tunnel vision, he’ll snap out of it as soon as he registers your words and before you know it the pressure on your neck has ceased and the strange feeling of your cunt being filled to the brim one minute and empty the next settling in. changbin will be soso ashamed of himself for getting so carried away to the point he made you uncomfortable - crying out the very same safeword he’d never thought either of you would ever have to use. will brush away the tears spilling over onto your flushed cheeks so lovingly and will be so attentive and caring towards you after. please this man will be so afraid to even touch you following this and will probably ban sex fo awhile so just help this stupid mf out, he doesn’t know how to handle this type of shit 😭

“were never having sex again, idc how much you want it.”

“really changbin, cause you’re always the one begging me for it??? 🤨🤨”

𝐇𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐉𝐈𝐍

gets pussy drunk so fucking easily. so much time will pass without him even realising it while he’s busy playing with your pussy - please he’s been late to practice and chewed out by both chan and minho more times than he can count cause he gets so carried away between your legs. his hands will keep your pretty folds spread wide open for his tongue to leave fat swipes against your slit, nose nudging into your pussy and humming lowly as your sweet taste hit his tongue - your tummy tightening painfully as he stimulates you even further towards another orgasm. it was all just too much, you could feel him all over you and instead of that overwhelming pleasure you were so used to that makes you oh so lightheaded and pushing his head even further into your heat was instead replaced with a stinging ache, your cunt crying our for him to stop but your voice failed you yet again. as soon as you feel his long digits dip into your pussy - gathering up your wetness and spreading them around your puffy pussy lips - finally you were sobbing out your safeword. istg he’ll be so 🥺 as he pulls away from you, not even hesitating to wrap you up in a fluffy blanket and laying small kisses over your sore body, muttering muffled apologies against the warm skin. extremely understanding and accepts that this sort of stuff will happen sometimes, and you’re just so thankful how mature and sensitive he is to the whole thing. he’ll try not show it but he’ll be extra careful the next few times you have sex, his normally rough words replaced with soft touches and worried eyes, and you could just tell he was afraid of it happening again. 

𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐉𝐈𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆

#1 contributor to your misery istg. is all over you and makes sure the only thing you can see, feel and taste is him. will have a vibrator shoved deep into your cunt as he fingers work on your clit, tongue lapping up the sweat that collected between your tits from his torture and you swear this man is such a degenerate but that doesn’t stop you from spreading your legs open even further for him, even though it was all on the brink of being too much. he was eating up all your soft cries but you were just trying your best to focus on one thing, mind completely empty as he upped the speed of the vibrator and went back to rubbing your slit even harder and you were just so overwhelmed from the amount of stimulation he was putting your through that you couldn’t even think straight. as soon as you feel the pads of his fingers pinching your tender bud you were choking out the safeword. jisung doesn’t even notice at first, too caught up in replacing the toy with his fingers, muttering something about how ‘a useless piece of plastic dick’ couldn’t please you the way he could while curling his digits deep inside your swollen pussy, groaning out against your warm skin as he felt you close in around them. takes him a little while before his mind finally catches up with his ears but as soon as it does he’ll look up at you all :( - stilling his fingers inside of you for a second before slowly pulling them out. and you just can’t look into those pretty eyes of his cause theres so much worry and shame spilling over them that it almost makes you wanna cry. radiates 100% comfort and will n o t stop apologising the rest of the night, cleaning you up and holding you real close against him, almost as if he was afraid you’d slip right through his fingers fort hat one dumb mistake. will defiantly be more attentive during sex afterwards and will look for signs that you’re about to crumble before it’s too late, extremely intent on you not having to use that damn safeword again in future!!

“i’m sorry sweetheart, let me make it up to you.”

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐗

this boy lives to please you so it’ll break his little heart that he made you so uncomfortable that you had to resort to your safeword, he’ll try his best to prevent it anyway possible :( no surprises that he finds himself with his head buried between those heavenly thighs of yours more times than he can count, could probably pass away feeding on your pussy and he’d die a happy man. very attentive to your sounds and he’ll perk up every time you let out a choked sob or whimper, tongue leaving slow, long licks up your slit as he keeps your pussy folds spread open for job - tongue fucking into your tight hole every now and then. probably notices right away when your pleased cries turn to whines of pain and he’ll be ceasing his worship on your clit immediately without you even having to utter your safeword yet. he could practically see it dangling from your lips. and you just wondering how you got so lucky to be with such an angel, knowing exactly what you’re feeling no matter what and having no problem to stop even if it pains him. leaves one last kiss to your puffy folds before crawling up to face you, hovering over your exhausted form before his mouth is on you, kissing you so sweetly as a gentle reminder that he’d never intentionally make you uncomfortable or cause you any sort of pain 🥺👍 you’d probably never have to resort to using your safeword while having sex with him, he’s practically obsessed with you and is so attentive to your body language and sounds - he probably knows when you’ve had enough before you even do, would be the most perfect boyfriend ever <333

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐈𝐍

the meanest!! has got carried away with his cruel words on more than one occasion. will say shit like, ‘you’re such a cum slut, good for nothing but shooting my load into’ and, ‘look at you begging for my cock, such a dumb girl’ while fucking into you, fingers rubbing at your swollen cunt and the filthy sounds of your wetness coating his dick with every buck of his hips filling the room. normally you’d be eating those words right up, playing into it and looking up at him with the most desperate, cock hungry eyes ever, pussy clenching around nothing when he pulls out of you just to be mean and he’ll laugh straight in your face at the sight, slapping your aching cunt to see those cute tears stinging at your eyes. but it was all too much right now. he was working your clit so roughly and you weren’t sure you could handle it much longer, begging him to slow down but he’s soso pussy drunk rn that he’d think you were just acting up to be brat, fingers leaving bruises on your hips as he continued pounding into you, vile words still spilling from his lips. but as soon as that safeword hits his ears he’ll be stilling instead of you, his cock still twitching deep against your walls and he doesn’t know what to do at first. couldn’t take his eyes off you, you were such a mess; hair messed and limbs twitching, eyes glossy with tears and lips slick and bruised from his kisses. normally he’d get such a kick out of such a sight but all he could feel in that moment was guilt - guilt that he actually went too far this time and was late to notice. gets so soft afterwards and its such a stark contrast to his attitude from when he was fucking you that you couldn’t help but lean into every soft touch and sniffle at every gentle word, desperate for some kind of affection and he was eager to give it. you’re gonna have to assure him that you were just feeling extra sensitive cause he’ll overthink tf out of everything he did and be extremely careful with you in future, will be at least a month until meany!seungmin makes an appearance again - unless you beg prettily enough of course <3

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐍

sometimes doesn’t realise how much bigger his cock and fingers are compared to you, and doesn’t work hard enough to stretch your cunt open enough to be able to take him when he’s being needy. especially now as he’s forcing two digits into your hole, pumping them into you at a pace you could hardly keep up with - your choked sobs of ‘slow down’ getting lost into the room as his lips lapped at your neck, groaning into the flushed skin when he felt how tight you were around his fingers. mutters something about ‘if you struggle this much taking my fingers i can’t wait to see you taking my cock.’ and before you know it he’s adding a third, cunt crying out for some type of relief and you just couldn’t take it anymore, the feeling of your pussy closing in around him causing you more pain than anything. so extremely distressed when he registers the safeword spilling from your lips, eyes all round and shining with worry and you wished you weren’t the one to cause that type of expression on such a pretty face. kisses and massages all your sore muscles and will run a nice hot shower for you, letting you lean into his chest as he shampoos your hair. won’t stop apologising so just kiss him to shut him up <3 sometimes doesn’t realise his own strength so he’ll be extra attentive in future, making sure to prep your pussy well and get you nice and wet for his cock before taking you, anything to make the experience more comfortable and enjoyable for you he’s doing it :(

© 𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐬𝐦𝐬 — 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝. 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠/𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝.

[heartschampion]

d1 clinger — chris sturniolo

PAIRING. chris sturniolo x reader

SUMMARY. your boyfriend is the clingest mf to ever exist.

CONTENT. fluff, um idk that's like it, kind of crack i guess, no beta, not proofread.

WORD COUNT. 675

even when you have to use the bathroom at night, chris won't let go of you at all. it's either you take him with you to the bathroom, or you just don't go at all. if you even try to escape from his grasp, he'll whine and pout until the end of time.

"chris, i'm sorry, but i really had to go." you sigh, trying to reason with your clingy boyfriend for the hundredth time that night. he simply pouts and beckons for you to go back to petting his hair. you roll your eyes, but do as he asks nonetheless. the two of you stay like that for who knows how long before chris finally decides that you're worthy of hearing his voice again. "take me with you next time, 'kay?" you snort, shaking your head fondly at your boyfriends antics. of course he of all people would want that. he really couldn't stand a moment apart. "fine."

walking together means holding hands through thick or thin, hot or cold. it could be the world's hottest, most sweltering of heat, and chris would still insist on holding your hand. he would rather deal with you complaining the whole way through than let go.

it was over a hundred degrees in la that day and all you wanted was to get away from the heat, but chris had another idea in mind. really, you should question why you were dating a man who insists on buying the newest addition to the lego botanical collection. to make matters worse, he would rather die than admit that holding hands was disgusting when all of your sweat pooled up in them. your hands were basically a pond of sweat. "you don't wanna hold hands with me?" chris questions, the look on his face just telling that he was offended by the mere idea of it. "no," you say with an exasperated tone. sweat. pond. hand. gross. you raise your hands up and held it up to his face, showing him what was wrong with the whole idea. "i just don't want sweat dripping down my hand." he looks at your intertwined hands for a moment, staring just as a drop of sweat rolls down onto the concrete ground. it leave a wet mark that will most likely be gone in the next minute with how hot it was. "there's nothing wrong with that." "ugh, chris!"

met a fan in the wild? he will find a way to keep his hands on you. do not doubt this man. if chris were to be a saying, he would be the embodiment of 'if there is a will, there is a way.'

you watch as the fan hugs the triplets one by one. first nick, then matt, and finally they arrive at chris. they stand there awkwardly, unsure of how to approach the situation with chris unwilling to let go of you. noticing their hesitance, the boy smiles and holds out his own arms, never actually letting go of your hand and wraps them around the fan warmly. on the flip side, you walk around the two of them, being guided by chris. you deadpan at chris, questioning if that really just happened. in response, he just smirks and gives you a cheeky wink. as the two of them seperate, chris guides you back to your spot beside him and squeezes your hand reassuringly. what would you ever do without your little big clinger? probably have some personal space, but who needs that these days anyways?

no matter what, you can could on your boyfriend to always be there by your side. he'll be there when you're sick, insisting that he doesn't care if he catches the same sickness that has you bedridden. he'll be there the day you get married, albeit he has to be there. he'll even be there as you have raging bloody diarrhea and get matt to drive you to the er.

chris sturniolo is a d1 clinger, but he's your d1 clinger.

[heartsforvin]

BAD FOR BUSINESS

guys i got this idea from reading a matt sturniolo fic 🙏🏼

buckle up mfs, its a long one

pairing: vinnie hacker x fem!reader

warnings: smut, p in v, age gap ( r’s 23, v’s 30), use of pet names, fingering, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, cussing, use of pet names, use of y/n, lmk if i missed anything !!

summary: when vinnie hired you on to babysit his four year old, he never expected things to take a turn the way it did

you started the job right before the boy turned one. he was the sweetest infant, and even more sweet as a toddler.

it was hard to believe it had already been three years since you started the job, it feeling like yesterday.

you show up at the household five days a week, everyday like clockwork at seven in the morning just so vinnie could be at work on time.

just like today. it was six-forty-five when you pulled up to the hacker residence, fifteen minutes early.

there was really no actual set time you had to be at the house, but vinnie did say before at least seven-fifteen.

knocking on the door softly but loud enough to be heard, you waited for the man to answer.

you were met with the man on the other side, giving you a greeting smile.

you would never admit this to anyone but you always thought vinnie was attractive. with his blonde curls, strong bone structure, and not to mention the obvious muscle.

he still portrayed that ‘dad bod’ but it wasn’t as obvious as most.

“goodmorning ms l/n,” he smiles. “come on in, wes is still asleep but i’m sure you don’t mind.”

you smiled back with a nod as you walked into the house. it wasn’t big, a single story with only two bedrooms, perfect for vinnie and his son.

over the years you came to find out their story. you found out that vinnie’s girlfriend at the time had just up and left the baby as his responsibility.

it was clear he needed the help, and daycare was just too expensive for him to handle, so he decided to hire an ongoing babysitter.

that’s where you come into play. three years ago you had found this ad on a website, clicked on it and read the description.

once you did you knew you had to at least interview for the family, you didn’t ever expect to be hired.

now here you were three years later, wesley had become someone you truly loved like your own son.

“should i wake him up if he sleeps in a little too late?” you asked the older man as you set your things down on the kitchen counter.

vinnie shook his head. “no, not unless it’s past ten.” he informed.

you nodded and watched as vinnie grabbed his things off the counter. he had tattoos run along his hands that you swore was the hottest thing.

shaking your head, you look at the man across from you as he repeats his words you didn’t hear.

“there’s yogurt and strawberries in the fridge, strawberries are all cut up so all you have to do is serve them. you know he’s going to want apple juice with his breakfast so — water it down.” you cut him off with a smile.

vinnie returns the smile and nods. “right. i’ll be home probably about five-thirty, six so i’ll see you then.”

the two of you say goodbye and that’s when you go and sit down on the couch a bit until the boy wakes up. it was around seven-twenty in the morning so you knew it would be at least an hour or two before he wakes up.

⋆.ೃ࿔*

about an hour later you saw the young blonde peek into the livingroom, wide smile across his face when he noticed you were there.

“y/n!” he exclaimed as he ran up to you. you scooped him up in your arms and kissed his head.

“morning, wes. sleep good?” you asked as the boy squirmed out of your arms and sat beside you on the couch.

with a nod to his head, you smiled. standing up, you grabbed his hand and helped him off the couch before saying, “your dad got breakfast all ready for you, you hungry?”

the blonde smiled widely as you helped him down and ushered him into the kitchen.

you grabbed his booster seat and sat him in it before going to the fridge and grabbing the yogurt and strawberries for his breakfast.

“here you go wes. you want your apple juice?” you knew his answer but just thought to check in case there was a chance he didn’t want it.

like always, wesley smiled as he asked politely for the drink. your went to pour it in a sippy cup and watered it down just a bit like always.

handing it to him, he thanked you as you ruffled his hair with a smile. you had eaten breakfast on the way here so you decided to sit at the table and wait for the boy to finish.

once he was done you cleared the table and helped him out of his seat. you put it back in its respective spot and then took the blondes hand and told him it was time to get dressed.

“which shirt today, dinosaurs or trucks?” you asked the boy as you held up two shirts.

he looked between the two before pointing to the one in your left hand. “dino’s!”

you laughed and smiled as you put the other shirt away. after dressing him, you told him you had to clean up the kitchen and to stay in his room to play with his toys until you got done.

once done with cleaning up the kitchen, you decided to take wesley to the park. it was a pretty nice day out, plus it was the last few weeks of summer so you wanted to make sure he got all his time outside in.

“hey wes, you wanna go out to the park? you can bring your car with.” you ask, the boy’s eyes lit up at the last words you said.

for wesley’s fourth birthday vinnie had gotten him one of those battery operated toy cars. wesley loved it the minute he saw it and was outside for a good two hours riding it around that day.

after getting very excited about hearing he could bring his car with, wesley immediately ran to the kitchen to wait for you.

you laughed at the boy's excitement as thee two of you made it out to the garage.

opening up the garage door, you got the car out and wesley immediately got into the toy car and drove out of the garage.

"hold on bubba, gotta close the door." you informed the boy, seeing as he was already halfway down the driveway.

after closing the garage door the two of you were off to the park. it wasn't that far from vinnie's place, so it was perfect walking distance.

once arrived, wesley stopped his car and you watched as he made his way to the slide.

as you watched the boy, your thoughts immediately went to the older blonde man, more specifically, how attractive he really was.

you shouldn't be thinking like this, especially since he was your boss, not to mention years older than you, but you couldn't help yourself.

you wondered if he thought about you the way you did him. he couldn't have though, he's acted nothing but professional to you for the past three years.

you've always thought about what it'd be like to be in a certain situation with him. how would he react? would he be polite and push you away, or would he give in?

that's what you had to find out.

⋆.ೃ࿔*

back at the house, it was around five-forty-five and you were getting wesley ready for dinner. he had demanded chicken nuggets and mac and cheese to you on your guys' way home from the park.

you of course couldn't tell him no, so here you were, preparing everything for his dinner.

after getting the boy into his booster seat, you finished up cooking the mac and cheese before serving some in a bowl to him, the chicken nuggets were served soon after that.

"had a good day today, wes?" you ask as you sit down at the table with him.

wesley smiles and nods. "when's daddy gonna be home?" he asked you before scooping up mac and cheese.

you checked your phone for the time before answering him. "soon, bub, probably after you're done eating."

wesley smiled and continued to finish his food. about twenty minutes later vinnie walked into the door and wesley immediately ran up to him.

"hey bud!" vinnie said as his son hugged his legs.

vinnie set his things down and picked up his son. "had the best day!" wesley exclaimed to his dad.

you watched with a smile as wesley told vinnie all about your day today. vinnie flashed you a smile and for a minute your plan was working.

"alright bud, go in your room and play for a bit while yn and I talk, okay?" vinnie said as he put the boy down.

wesley ran to his room while you and vinnie watched. once he left you started to clean up the dishes from dinner.

you watched as vinnie rounded the other side of the island and took a seat on one of the barstools. "you don't have to clean up, you're good to go home for the day." vinnie informed.

you smiled and shook your head. "its alright, i don't mind," you told him. "plus you worked all day, it's the least i can do."

vinnie noded and just stay put. after dishes were done you had offered to bathe wesley to help out once more before leaving.

"you don't need to do all that." vinnie says as he takes a sip of his drink. "I can bathe him, he is my son of course." he laughs.

it was the first real laugh you've gotten to hear in years, and you had to admit that you loved hearing it.

although, he was right, you definitely did not have to wash wesley up, vinnie could do it himself. you just loved spending time with both vinnie and wesley, you couldn't help it.

"okay, let me just say goodbye to him and i'll be out of your hair." you tell the man before you walked out of the room.

once you left, vinnie let out a heavy sigh, thanking everything that you left when you did. recently he's been having thoughts no boss should have about the person they've employed.

thoughts like how pretty you are, how pretty you looked in your bathing suit that one summer when he had invited you over to swim because wesley wouldn't stop asking for you.

"fuck." he cursed under his breath, now trying to not get a tent in his pants before he sees you for the final time.

⋆.ೃ࿔*

the next day you arrived at the house exactly at seven. knocking on the door, vinnie opened it moments later with his eyebrows furrowed.

"shit I'm sorry, i forgot to tell you wesley's at my parents house today. you don't have to work today, go home and take the day off." he informed with a smile.

you smiled too, that's when you took in his appearance; tousled hair and sweats, no shirt.

your breath caught in your throat at the sight. you hadn't seen him like this since that summer he invited you over for a little pool party with wesley.

vinnie notices how you react and chuckles. "this looks unprofessional, know," he breathes. "i just needed a day to myself, i know it sounds selfish but it's true."

you shrug it off. "don't need to explain yourself, it's fine i understand." you tell him with a smile.

vinnie returns the gesture. "well i guess i'll get going," you sigh. "thank you, i'll see you tomorrow."

vinnie smiles before he watches you walk off, that was until he called you back over.

"hey actually if you'd want, i could have some help around the house a bit." he tells you, opening the door for you.

you walk into the house and set your things down on the counter. vinnie comes up behind you, hand gliding against your back before he faces you.

he's still in his sweatpants and no shirt. he looks at you and takes in your outfit.

a nice baby blue sundress paired with black converse. he loved how you dressed cute but also a bit casual too.

"so uhm," vinnie clears his throat, making you smile. "you can start with whatever you want first, no rush and you definitely don't have to do this." he explains.

you smile as you start to walk over to the kitchen sink, vinnie follows in suit and sits at the island chair that faces you.

you start with the dishes that are already in the sink before going to the ones on the counter

"what'd you guys do last night after i left that has the sink overflowing?" you ask with a small laugh.

vinnie reciprocates, laughing with you before answering. "wes wanted cookies before bed, unfortunately he makes it hard to say no and so i gave in."

you laugh, the four year old can be very persistent with things. as you continue with the dishes, you can feel vinnie's gaze linger on you.

he watches as you wash the dishes then set them on the counter to dry. watches as you glance over at him and starts smiling.

he smiles back, not even hesitating before he does, almost like its on cue, an instinct.

"you're beautiful, you know that?" he doesn't know what possessed him to say that, but he's glad he did.

the reaction he gets out of you is one he suspected, your cheeks tint to a red color, smiling wide as you look at him.

"thank you, vinnie. you're not so bad yourself, even when looking casual." you return the compliment.

you both don't know what is going on right now, this was extremely unprofessional, at least it felt like it.

vinnie didn't care right now though. he'd been having these thoughts about you for so long, he needed to act on them.

taking a bolder approach, he stands up and rounds the other end of the island so he's now by you. you turn to face him, and that's when you notice the slight stubble on his face.

you thought it made him look sexy, paired with his tattoos, you almost didn't want to give in.

his hand travels to land on your waist, you look down at the placement and that's when vinnie asks, "is this okay?"

it shouldn't be, but it sure does feel okay. nodding your head, you give him a verbal response too, just so he knows.

his other hand cups your jaw and that's when you watch as he leans in, so you do the same until you're met in the middle.

the way his lips felt on yours was like nothing youve experienced before. it was needy, hungry, like you've both needed this for so long.

its almost like you did, you've both imagined this moment too many times, and finally acting on it almost felt unreal.

"jump." vinnie says against your lips. you do as told, jumping up so you're now in his arms.

none of you break apart as you feel him gently place you on the counter. his next movements however were not so gentle.

a gasp slips out of you when you feel his hand come in contact with your clothed pussy. he smirks up at you, watching your head tip back as his finger presses against your clit.

"vinnie." is all you muster out, it coming out as more of a moan.

vinnie smiles as he continues to rub at you through your panties. he watches as you widen your legs for him and bite your lip.

"let it out, baby. its only us, let me hear you." vinnie says, making you let out a loud moan once he circles your clit again.

carefully, he pulls your panties to the side and chuckles softly when he sees how wet you are already.

"barely touched you and you're already this wet f'me? dirty girl." he rasps before gliding his finger over your folds.

a whine slips from you and he smiles up at you, standing to give you a quick kiss before going down on his knees.

the sight in front of you almost makes you let go right then and there. vinnie's head disappears from your view and under your dress.

he grabs the waistband of your panties and pulls them down, tossing them on the floor somewhere before dipping his head between your thighs again.

you feel his fingers on you again, making you moan out his name for the second time. vinnie smiles to himself before easing his middle finger into you.

"shit," you moan, holding onto the edge of the counter. "vinnie, please."

he removes himself from between your legs and looks up at you, asking what you want. "you want more?"

you nod an he happily obliges, dipping his head back under. this time, his middle finger and mouth make contact with you.

his finger his sliding in and out of you at a rapid pace as his tongue prods at your clit, eliciting moans out of you.

soon, he gets antsy and lifts himself up again. "can i take this off?" he asks, referring to your dress.

you nod with a smile and before you know it, its off in a second. he asks to take your bra off too, to which you do for him, landing somewhere in the room.

his hands immediately find your chest, taking both of your breasts in his hands and squeezed them, making your head tip back.

he kisses from your lips all the way back down to where he was moments prior. his mouth lands on you again and you grip his hair, tugging softly which makes him groan into you.

"taste so good, princess." vinnie mumbles against you as his tongue laps up your juices.

you push his head into you more, causing a groan from him and moan from you at the feeling. you feel his ring finger enter you and that's when the pleasure intensifies.

"vinnie, g-gonna-" you're cut off by a whine as you feel his finger hit that one special spot.

vinnie looks up at you, continuing his actions as he speeds up his pace on you.

before you can utter the words to him, you're summing on his face in a second. vinnie lifts off of you and smiles, making you smile with him.

"so fuckin' good, baby," he breathes out before kissing you. "stand up f'me."

you do as told, hopping off the counter and standing up. before you have the chance to speak, vinnie's turning you around so you face the counter.

"gonna let me fuck that pretty pussy? huh, sweetheart?" you can't even answer him, the tone in his voice already making you wet.

you nod as you feel his hand make contact with your ass. his sweats pool to his ankles, letting his cock spring free and smack against his abdomen

"gonna give it to you so good, baby." he whispers in your ear as he strokes himself a few times.

you wiggle your ass just to tease him, he smacks it again before asking if you're ready.

with verbal conformation, you tell him you're ready and that's when you feel him push into you for the first time.

"shit, feel so fucking good already, don't know if i'll last." his words make you smile as you bite your lip.

vinnie grabs your hips and starts to move in and out of you at a slow pace. you grip the counter, already feeling like it's too much.

"so big." is all you can say, making vinnie smirk.

his thrusts soon become needy and face paced as time went on. when you noticed, you moved your ass back on him, making him moan.

"that's it, fuck yourself on my cock. good girl." the praise goes straight through you, making you whine in pleasure.

vinnie kisses your shoulder as he fucks into from behind. he can't believe this is happening. he doesn't want it to end.

his hands move from your hips to your chest in an instant, squeeing both of your tits as he thrusts into you.

"feel so good princess," he rasps. "god we should've done this sooner."

you smile at his words and agree. even though this is completely wrong, it feels so right.

"vinnie," you whine when you feel his thumb rub circles on your clit. "baby please."

he takes that as a sign that you're close and his pace along with his thumb on your clit becomes harsher.

"give it to me baby, come on. be a good girl and cum all over my cock."

his words only spur you on more and before you know it you're doing as told. a loud moan rips from you as you let go on vinnie's cock, making him smile as he reaches his release.

with a few more thrusts he cuts deep inside you with a moan followed with it.

"fuck." he says once he catches his breath.

he grabs your dress off the floor and helps you put it back on. he grabs his pants and puts them on himself after.

"that was.." you trail off with a laugh, not even knowing the correct words to use.

vinnie laughs with you, also not knowing the right words to use to explain what just happened.

you fix your hair and dress before you hear the doorbell ring. both you and vinnie go wide-eyed when you hear the door open and the sound of his son's voice.

"shit." he mutters. you watch as he quickly picks up your bra and puts it in your purse.

wesley comes around the corner just in time, followed by vinnie's parents. they've met you before so you say hello before grabbing your things.

"I should head out. thank you again vinnie for letting me help out, i'll see you tomorrow." you say to the blonde man.

he walks you out real fast and as you two are alone, he kisses you quickly. "see you tomorrow."

you smile and walk to your car, checking your purse for your keys. that's when you realize you left something on the kitchen floor, no doubt one of the three people who just walked into the house finding it.

tomorrow's going to be an awkward day.

hiii this has been in my drafts for months so i’m glad i finally got it out !!

i switched to writing on my new laptop but some things i do still have to do on my phone but majority of my writing will be from there (not like you can tell LOL)

but i hope you guys liked this !! i loved writing it <33

tags: @cosmicanakin , @anqeliclust , @sturnioloshacker , @khackerr , @42angelgirl , @visualbutterflysworld , @slvthrs , @leqonsluv3r , @bernelflo , @kriissy4gov , @laylasbunbunny , @khxna , @0strawberrysorbet0 , @defnotayonna , @supabhad , @kayleighh , @hallecarey1 , @violet0182 , @skye-44 , @eddieslut69 , @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom , @miilzzy , @jpg3 ,

[vulpisnocturna]

hot things about Itachi's mannerisms that he does without realising?

Anon, you want me to die? Okay okay. Mostly SFW, a lot of simping going on. I’ve got a few, the last one is especially cute 🥰

- This man has no idea of the power his voice holds. His tone is always mellow and he chooses his words carefully, but that rich cadence and deep voice is just- I just know he got all the bitches (i am bitches) ready to kneel on the ground he walks upon

- Eye contact!!! He always makes everyone feel like they have his undivided attention. And his eyes are his biggest power, so he needs to keep them on everyone. But with the people he trusts, it’s just constant eye contact! This includes during sexy time, and it’s just-

- He sits like a mf king. This man was probably trying out intimidating poses before Sasuke got to the fight, and boy oh boy did he deliver! The easy stretch of his legs, the nonchalant hand resting on the cloak… look, he exudes power, and it’s hot and I don’t care

- His hands deserve a category of their own. Have you seen them??? The nail polish (slay), the long, slender fingers, the ring. I just know Itachi has an artist's hands. Pretty and elegant, with graceful, tapered fingers and veiny back of the hand (kill me I am a slut for hands)

- He likes cats (hot and very valid)

- His little smirk (I am deceased). He doesn’t show emotions often, but that little smug smirk is just-

- He loves to tease people. I don’t know what it is, but I just know deep down, he’s got sarcasm for days and he loves to use it

- I have this headcanon that when Itachi’s interested/curious, he tilts his head a little. I don’t know if I’m weird for classifying this as hot, but listen, it looks like a feline stalking a prey. It’s valid, and that’s that.

- He has manners. You know how he knocked before trying to kidnap Naruto? How he uses honorifics even with Kakashi, before he puts him in a coma? Manners.

- He can cook

- His hair. It’s not a mannerism, but the girls that get it, get it.

- He is observant: he sees it all and he notices when something’s not right

- He has brains for days. Not only is he blessed with impossibly good looks, he is also incredibly smart. I mean, what more could you want?

- Despite being a prodigy, smart and beautiful, Itachi is not going to rub it in people’s faces. He knows he’s powerful, but he never underestimates anyone

- Wearing a necklace. I don’t know what it is, but jewellery on him looks stunning

- In a modern AU, he definitely would open a car door for you

- He would walk with his hand resting on the small of your back (tell me that’s not the hottest thing ever)

- Definitely rolls up his sleeves when he wears a shirt. And ofc he’s blessed with amazing forearms

- Drives with his hand on your thigh, or holds your hand and changes gear without letting go of it

- Is a malewife. He cooks, he cleans, he does it all

- Is secretly possessive

- This man is such a giver. He’s constantly thinking of your pleasure during sex

- holds eye contact with you when you two are having sex

- Would be the type to tip your chin with his finger to kiss you

- chokes you against a wall 🥰🥰🥰

[kisses4tom]

Sooo, since we got Uncle Billy do we now get GirlDad!Tom ?? I’ve looked high and low for a Tom X Reader family story😂😭 your writing is amazing <3

ᡣ𐭩 DADDY TOM

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YAYY FINALLY SOMEONE REQUESTED THIS!! 😭 I've been dying to write something like this since I have already made an uncle tommy hc! and thank you so much ml 💕

I think we can ALL collectively agree that Tom would be the BEST girl dad, right? 🌚 so the baby will be a little girl!

also I'm gonna make this a teen pregnancy (18), so from the very start up til now!

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when he finds out he would probably freeze for a moment before finally reacting (gotta soak it in yk)

he would be happy but shocked and confused at the same time

scared not to be present enough because of tour and the band

he would always kiss and touch your stomach

he'd cry when hearing the baby's heartbeat to the doctor 🥹🫶🏻

"I want the baby to be healthy, but if I had to guess I think it's a boy" (he 100% wants a girl)

idk I feel like he would call the baby "kleine Prinzessin" (little princess) or "kleiner Soldat" (little soldier) !!

when you go into labor he tries to keep his cool but deep down he's in full panic mode

the first time he met/held her it was like love at first sight for him even if he didn't quite know how to act since he never really had any past experiences with babies

he's very careful and gentle with her

always holding her

he would attack her with tickles to hear her little laugh

kiss attacks also

playing with her all the time

he wouldn't essentially spoil her (that's uncle Billy's job 😉) but he definitely gets her most things because he can't say no to that little face!

likes holding and showing her around: "look who's that in the mirror? it's you!"

definitely hiding her from the media

yet he LOVES talking about her in interviews!

though very very VERY rarely he would bring her out on stage and hold her like mf simba when she was about 1/2

his heart is always full whenever she's around

he would kneel down to talk to her‼️😩

always pushing her stroller or carrying her on his shoulders

don't ask me why but he'd get into play fights with her at the dinner table 😭 (especially when she's still learning to talk so she's speaking gibberish 😭)

he loves to take her baths and put fun toys in the tub

finds her extremely adorable in everything she wears

he'd give her his yellow dog plushie‼️😭 currently sobbing

I feel like he would try his best to let the baby's first word be "papa" 😭

when she's older he would start being more himself (so talk about things freely and make dirty jokes all the time)

he's not a regular dad, he's a cool dad! 😏 (please get the reference 😭)

he'd give her the talk 🫢🐝

he would pick her up in weird ways and make her laugh (like upside down etc lmfao 💀)

would let her do his hair but not his make-up

like I said in my uncle Tommy hc, i feel like he would love to play with the toy kitchen for some reason idk 💀

he's the overprotective girl dad FOR SURE (AND ITS THE HOTTEST AND CUTEST THING IN THE WHOLE UNIVERSE)

he'd go down the slide with her 😭

at lunch/dinner he would always sit next to her

looooves when she's at their concerts and would ask Bill to dedicate her a song (especially her favorite)

he'd definitely write her a song too

he would make her try to eat a lemon 😭🍋

it's important to him that she has a good bond with her uncle Bill and the boys too! (uncle Georg and uncle Gustav 🥹)

"Y/n she looks more like me than you, gotta be honest"

he would give her what he didn't have growing up (if you read Bill's book, like I have, you'll know)

he wouldn't let anybody hurt or say anything wrong about her

hype man fr

high-key a very chill and permissive dad

he would make sure she knows her worth and to always be herself, without listening to what others say

always saying that she's the better copy of him

since he had her young, people (maybe even teachers at parent teacher conferences) mistake him for her brother and it's needless to say that he's very flattered while his daughter is just like 😐

they have a great bond

LITTLE FUN FACT‼️ Tom said in his podcast that if he ever has a daughter then his dream is to name her Nala like in the lion king movie 🤭😭 crying rivers rn part 2

your daughter tags along on tours, especially because it's very important for Tom and she loves it (idk if I already said this but oh well lmfaoo)

I have a feeling almost all her friends have a crush on Tom (i know i would 😋)

Tom is such a basic dad istg, he does bbq every sunday

if y'all ever become parents a second time then he would definitely have a happier reaction than the first one, yet he would be scared to take care of two little creatures~

his fans always ask about her during meet and greets and give her little presents, which he appreciates a lot

your daughter is pretty much popular in the entire fanbase you guys have and is considered a "lucky charm" from the band

Tom would give her the longest and most comforting hugs known to mankind

he'd make her a memory book with Bill 😭

and he'd give her some old goodies of his!

like some of his old clothes, hats, glasses etc..

overall he's the best dad and UGHHFHSJENF I cry just thinking about him not having any biological children :(

i hope you enjoyed this !! 💕 (also i apologize for any spelling mistakes but your girl over here is too lazy to re-read 🤪 love y'aaaallll)

[itgirl-111]

MY RULES🏩💕

I am GOD

i am the creator

i always get what I want

im always in total control

i have unshakeable faith in myself

i want it I got it

i am pure consciousness

i am infinite and limitless

nothing and no one is out of my reach

my life, my rules

my dominant thoughts dictate my reality

the 3d is not the validation, I am.

no one has free will

i need not lift a finger to manifest

theres no delay, I manifest instantly

if it's not what I want its not true

nothing is true unless I say it is

no one can decide for me but me

im the source of it all

my mind is the validation and confirmation

anything and everything is possible to me

if I can think of it I can have it

I have unshakeable and immovable belief that I'm the only creator of my reality

im the only one who's on the pedestal

I am the only one who's in control

I have complete dominance and authority over my reality

what I say goes

I am 100% worthy of living the life of my wildest dreams

I am 100% worthy of having and being each one of my desires

It doesn't matter if it's 1 desire or 1000 everything is same to manifest

Only I assign power to things

Nobody and nothing can stop me from living my best life, not even my own mind

No one deserves to have my desires more than I do

reality only exists to serve me

everything always works out in my favour

life is rigged in my favour at all times

Creation is finished

theres nothing to seek, there's nothing to wait for, it's already done.

its already here it's already done.

I am the author, creator, director, scriptwriter, boss, of my reality

nobody has power over me

everything and everyone is me pushed out

everything is easy for Me to manifest

I make the rules

the world is truly my oyster

manifestation is too effortless for me

I am the main character of my life

I am limitlessly worthy

i am limitlessly abundant

i am limitlessly secure in myself

i am limitlessly valued

i am limitlessly loved and adored

i am limitlessly priceless

i limitlessly love myself

i am literally rare

i am precious

i am Unmatched

im unforgettable

i am the first best

i am THE best

i am the blueprint

i am number one

i am one of one

i am the only one

nobody can be me

nobody can do me like I do me

i am everyones favourite everything

i am once in a lifetime

i am one of a kind

i am everyone's top pick

I am confident and conceited

i am hot and I know it

i am the hottest girl to ever grace this earth

I am literally perfection

i am treated like royalty

i recieve princess treatment

everyone misses me when I'm not around

I am a goddess

i am the prize

I am a rare diamond

My beauty cannot be described in words

i am a winner

i never fail

i win simply by existing

i am chosen

im loved

im respected

im the coolest mf Alive

I am literally meant to have all my desires

i deserve undivided attention and princess treatment

i deserve to be treated like royalty

ofcourse I'm the center of the universe