#vanilla: *grows five fingers*

[cuppajj]

quieres?

[madamechrissy]

𖢔 Duvet Days and Vanilla Ice Cream 𖢔

𖢔The five times Satoru tried to confess his feelings, and the one that worked𖢔

𖢔Pairings: Satoru Gojo x fem!reader

𖢔Summary: Satoru Gojo was your best friend in the world, you'd long since had it bad for him, over the many years, but of course he's so popular and handsome, star basketball player, you think you have no chance. Satoru however, has tried five different times over the many years to tell you he loves you, but the words just never came out right, and you would never believe it to be possible. So, you both grow distant, as life takes over, until in your last year of college you end up at a Christmas party with him, where both of you are dealing with fresh breakups, and Suguru Geto is hanging mistletoe over your heads. Drinks pour, and so do Satoru's feelings he's kept inside. Have you both been in love with each other this whole time!?

𖢔CW: MDNI- Will be showing elementary, middle, high school and college missed confessions with Satoru and you! Lots of fluff ! Smut in current time (hints of it in early college) Friends/idiots to lovers, Toru is an idiot as a teenager lol, and they're bad at feelings, Christmas themed, emotional- light angst to fluffy smut. Explicit sexual content, fingering, cunnilingus. blow jobs, sexual tension, rough sex etc. 𖢔 Word Count- 15k words (holy fk lol)

𖢔Comments/reblogs appreciated if you enjoy this one!!𖢔

Christmas Eve, Last year of College

There is Christmas music playing as you enter the party, thrumming softly as you smile at so many of your friends, many you have barely seen in months. With being in the last year of college, many of you all had separate classes in separate buildings, and getting together was rarer and rarer. They wave at you while you take off your heavy winter coat.

It was freezing outside, and there was a faint dusting of snow, perfect for a Christmas Eve you muse. Little droplets melt on your hair as you shake your head to get them off, the warmth of the party and the sea of bodies enwrapping you. You see him then, right next to all of your friends, the man that never seems to leave your mind, Satoru Gojo.

God you’ve been friends forever, literally since you were ten years old, and running around in a playground at elementary school during recess, about Christmas time you’d met him in school and you’ll never forget him throwing snowballs so damn mean at you. You’d cried that day and somehow that had been the catalyst for your friendship.

But also your feelings.

You feel his blue eyes on you, eyes that you never got used to even after knowing him like the back of your hand, bright and piercing across the room, framed by a fringe of snow white lashes. He’s got a soft smile playing on his lips, waving a long arm at you, shouting your name. You hate that after all these years he still has such a damn effect, butterflies that never really left.

You’ve always tried to keep them pushed down, not get your hopes up ever, the few times you thought maybe Satoru could be available, had ended with him getting some new girlfriend. You had jokingly called them his flavors of the month, this month’s you’d called her an advent calendar jokingly over text, texting is mostly how you all talk now.

Satoru’s a star college basketball player and you’ve chosen to start a writing major, he’d be practicing basketball and you’d watch him in between typing up stories. He’d wave and smile at you as you sat on the bleachers to support him, though of course that was some time ago, when you both got significant others the friendship had gotten more distant.

You’d gotten broken up with literally last night, you were sure that your friends wondered why you were alone, but when you walk up to them, they just greet you. Suguru Geto, Satoru’s best friend and one of your good friends, hugs you first, in a warm embrace with his strong arms. You hug him back and smile up at him.

“Thank you so much for inviting me, Suguru!”

“Of course, love, we miss you. We all miss each other.”

“Me too! Hey Shoko!” Shoko hugs you now too, pulling back to look at your pretty dark red dress.

“You look so hot!”

“Aw, thank you, you do!” You now look at Nanami, who’s all decked out in a full three piece suit, you remember his emo days and it always surprises you how much he’s grown up. “Nanami!”

“Hello, darling.” He hugs you now as well, leaving you face to face with Satoru, who stands now, towering over damn near everyone, even taller than Nanami. Suguru is the only one in the room as tall as he is.

You crank your neck back to look up at him as he gently places his hands on your face, kissing your forehead sweetly. You grip his wrists gently and melt at the gesture, it’s a gesture of friendship deep and important. It’s one you haven’t felt in such a long time, you get so emotional from it you gulp, swallowing. You realize you’ll probably never really get over him.

But he’s just your friend.

A friend that looks sexy as fuck-

Stop that!

“I missed you, sweets. Mwah!” You giggle now as he smacks another kiss on your head and pulls you against his strong chest.

“Ugh, I miss you! But… maybe not so friendly, your-”

“I’m a free man so I can hug my friend again.” He teases, then pulls back and winks at the three of your other friends. “All my friends.”

“Don’t hug me, disgusting.” Nanami says with a shiver, earning Satoru’s huge, wolfy grin, big bright white teeth shining and reflecting the twinkling lights hanging on the ceiling above you.

“Well, that makes two of us.” You say softly, and Satoru’s eyes lock on you then, blue storms unreadable, a little lock of his soft white hair falling over a brow. Your eyes lower, taking in the white dress shirt and dress pants he’s wearing, worth more than you make in months easily. God he looks good.

Don’t think that way, it’ll always fuck you up.

“What happened?” Suguru asks softly, and you sigh, looking up at the dark haired man and smiling a bit.

“He wanted to go separate ways, I’m in college and he’s not anymore, I guess he felt we were too distant and separated because of it.”

“He didn’t wanna buy you a Christmas gift, cheap ass.” Satoru says with a huff, and you all laugh then.

“So we’re broken hearted for Christmas hmm?” You tease him now, taking his hand and squeezing gently, he pauses then, usually humorous face so serious, it makes you falter a bit, you ease your hand off, just when Suguru clears his throat.

“Ahem. Well then.” He holds up a thing of fake mistletoe now, right above Satoru’s white head and you, and you giggle a bit, but something in Satoru’s face shifts, his pretty pink lips part just a bit, eyes getting lidded.

“Well, there’s mistletoe, it’s a tradition.” He says, voice a little husky, you try to laugh it off, but quiet when he leans down a bit, hands in his pockets.

“Oh stop being silly you all.” You say, tempted by those glossy lips, but you don’t trust yourself not to lose it if you cross that line. Vivid images of straddling this man fill your mind just thinking of kissing him, you can’t go that far.

“It’s just a kiss, silly. C’mon, smooch me.” He puckers his lips all silly, Nanami and Suguru snort in laughter, and Shoko rolls her eyes. You sigh then, remembering, it’s just silly Satoru, your best friend. No big deal for him to have a kiss, especially as you both had shared a few kisses, one in middle, one in high school… and one drunken college encounter.

You may or may not have them written in a diary somewhere.

There may BE a Gojo diary.

“Okay, fine, tradition is tradition.” You say, he smirks now, hands out of his pockets to rest gently on your shoulders, so big he overtakes them. You exhale and your eyes flutter shut, as Satoru Gojo’s lips descend.

Fuck it feels so good to kiss him, it’s like you become boneless in his goddamn hold, it’s not just the pressure of some plush lips, it’s so much more, you are sure he probably doesn’t feel this, but you can’t help but lean up on your tip toes, even in your high heels, hands trailing up that stark shirt. He exhales and deepens the kiss, hands pulling you even closer.

You’ve never felt anything as sweet as his lips.

Satoru has never felt anything as sweet as your lips.

Fuck he knew it would feel this way, but it takes everything in him not to drag you upstairs and kiss every inch of your body. And fuck your body looks so good in that tiny little formfitting red dress, like a present just for him to unwrap. Satoru feels your skin heat up as he presses his lips on yours once more, in sweet little pecks, drinking in your breathless sounds.

He looks down at you, your eyes have dilated so much they’re almost black, just a ring of your pretty eye color left. Your lips are just slightly reddened from his kisses, parted just so, looking dazed. If you look like this from a kiss, he has to wonder how you look when he’d kiss you everywhere, every inch of your smooth skin, so bare in that dress he’s mad anyone even gets to see you.

You flush now, and he sees it, sees how flustered you get, biting your lower lip, lashes trembling just so over your eyes. Your hands are clutching his chest, his heart races under your palm, he wonders… Do you feel it? Do you feel even a bit of what he’s felt so long for you?

He longs to kiss you again, as his friends and yours all laugh softly, making little ‘ooooh’ noises, which you giggle at, but you don’t step back or step away, no you stay there, in front of him. He can feel your body heat, entrancing him, when you finally ease away you’re smiling so cute and shy at him, tearing his heart apart.

Satoru has to remember you’re just a friend, but it’s awfully difficult right now, especially since he knows you’re single. He knew the guy wasn’t good enough for you, but as your best friend he tried to be respectful, but he’d just tasted your sweet lips, like cherries, and now he’s imagining tasting your other lips. He’s a horrible friend, isn’t he, but…

Satoru’s been in love since he met you.

He knows you have no clue of it, the few times he’s tried he’s covered it up completely, much to your never ending confusion. Suguru, Nanami and Shoko all knew how bad he had it, even now, girls were placeholders, things to try to cope with the fact that he was too scared to share his feelings. He was nervous, Satoru Gojo, the man that could score under any pressure.

He scores in games, in life, with women. You were his weakness, breaking through this barrier he had, some invisible barrier that just a touch from you could destroy, a happy little smile on your perfect lips. Lips that are quirked up, you run your hand through your silky hair, hair he wonders what it would feel like in his fingers, pulling it as he…

Shit.

“Should we catch up a bit?” You ask softly.

“Miss me sweets?” He teases, and you roll your eyes, laughing.

“A bit.”

Fuck his heart stops. “Let me get you a drink?”

You nod and smile at his friends, who give him a sly little nod. They have made tonight their mission to try to get Satoru to express his feelings, finally and once and for all, before he went to play professionally, and before he maybe didn’t get a chance. He’d tried before, but something always holds him back, some fear of rejection, your rejection that sinks into him.

“I missed you, Toru.” You say softly, and the nickname hits him in the gut, the nickname you have called him for so long. He grabs a vodka bottle and smiles over at you, mixing you the drink he knows you love so much.

“Of course you missed me.” You laugh softly, Satoru always makes jokes, because he’s so scared to truly be vulnerable. You shove at him a little playfully, tiny little hand on one of his shoulders.

“You didn’t miss me, hotshot?” You tease.

“Miss you every day.” He says softly. You pause now, hands over his as he hands you the little cup, feeling yours get sweaty, as you tremble just a bit.

Are you as affected as him?

You can barely focus when Satoru’s long fingers brush against yours, you clear your throat and smile tremulously, taking the drink and sipping. “I wish we had more time to… hang out.” You say, cursing yourself internally.

“Hang out hmm?” He leans back on the counter, as the partygoers walk in and out of the kitchen.

“Yes, hang out. We used to all the time. I guess life happened?”

“Jealous boyfriend, jealous girlfriend happened.” He sips his drink, a little droplet falls, urging you to wipe it with your thumb, he catches your wrist in his big grip, tense, you both stare at each other quietly.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” He lets your hand down gently.

“Satoru I… do you think… you’d ever…”

“Ever what, sweets?”

“Ever…” You’re a blushing mess now, wondering at yourself, but it’s been forever, your boyfriend and you had not slept together, and before that it’s been almost a year since you last slept with someone. And fuck Satoru looks so good your mouth is just watering.

“You can ask me anything.” He says, so soft, and you take a breath.

“Have you ever thought of um… hooking up?” You whisper the words, earning his huge eyes getting even bigger, mouth wide with shock. “Oh god of course you haven’t! I just thought since we… almost back in the day? Also, it’s been a while and I trust you, and… oh god forget it so embarrassing!” You slam your hands on your face now, feeling your ears even overheating.

“Wh-what!?” He demands, leaning down and taking your hands off, you can’t even meet his eyes.

“I’m so sorry that was so off base. You’re probably hurt! I’m a little hurt too. I just… fuck I need to go.”

“What!? No no no.” Satoru stops you now, exhaling as he studies you carefully. “Like just a hookup? You don’t think it’ll ruin…”

“It wouldn’t ruin anything for me. I’ve always… I’ve always wanted to.” You admit, earning more of a blatant look of shock. “I know I was a little too… I don’t know, romantic back when we were younger? But I thought of it.”

“Yeah? Shit… Yeah?” You giggle now, nervously.

“Yeah I’ve always thought about it. I know… but do you think of me that way? If not it’s fine, no pressure really.”

He scoffs now, shaking his head. “Never thought of you that way?”

“Well you’ve been picking on me since you were ten, throwing snowballs at me, little shit.” You poke his chest, ignoring the hammering of your heart, and Satoru takes you by your arm, long fingers wrapping it entirely.

“Christmas Story time young lady.” You giggle and let him lead you out of the lively party, out to some of the quieter rooms, and he snatches you in one quickly, locking the door behind you both. He sits down in a huge leather seat in the quiet room, tapping one of his long thighs.

You suddenly get even more shy, and he notices, leaning forward. “I am not very experienced at being casual, Toru, give me a minute.”

“We’re not doing anything yet anyway, sit on Santa’s lap.” You snort, shaking your head, and he narrows those blue eyes, before leaning over and snatching up a santa hat and grinning. “Now, come here, be a good girl.”

“Good girl!?” You’re wet, great. You nervously shuffle to his thigh now, sitting and hoping he can’t feel your heat.

“You’re all talk hmm?” You sigh.

“I can’t believe I said all of that, I’m so sorry. I’ve always… Well, I’ve always had a crush on you. It sounds silly.” You look away, only for Satoru to cup your face, turning you to him carefully, your breath catches when you see how serious his pretty face is under that silly hat.

“Are you ready for story time?” He asks softly. You nod then, leaning closer in his lap, wrapping an arm around his neck, the other hand resting on his hard chest.

“I’m ready, Santa Toru.” He smiles just a bit, then he remembers.

*****

The First time Satoru tried to tell you his feelings

Fifth Grade- Age 10

“Oh my gosh! Ugh!” You’re shivering now, Satoru has thrown two giant snowballs at the prettiest girl he’d seen, wearing a wicked grin as they both hit your sweater, soaking wet with them now.

You turn and glare at him, and gosh, Satoru really thinks you’re cute, your face is all scrunched up in a glare, a face he frequently stared at in class. You were so, so pretty, and you always had your head in a book, where most classmates fawned over Satoru, laughed at his jokes, you just…

Were you.

Satoru wanted some attention, so this seemed like a great way to try, until he walks over and sees your face, tears in your eyes, your lips trembling. He pauses then, blinking his snowy lashes, worrying now, as he’s not ever seen you upset, and now he feels it like a hit on his chest.

“You’re crying?” He asks, and then remembers people around you are watching, and he doesn’t want to seem too soft. “Why are you crying? Just snowballs.”

“I’m soaking wet and cold now, Gojo!” You stomp a foot, shivering, Satoru suddenly feels awful.

“I… oh… um…” He takes off his jacket then, shivering just a bit in the chilled air, so cold he could see puffs of your breath as you sigh.

“No, no you’ll be cold. I’ll be fine. I’ve just had… um a bad day.” You whisper, looking down and hugging yourself.

It’s then, Satoru realizes…

He thinks he likes you…

A lot.

He eases off your soppy sweater, throwing his jacket over your shoulders, and you look up at him and keep crying. “I’m sorry, okay!?”

“N-no. You’re just sweet, Gojo. Thank you.” You swipe at your eyes with your gloved hands as he clutches your sweater, he brings it to his nose for a moment, inhaling you. “Are you… smelling it? Do I smell bad!?”

“No, no! You smell sweet.” You raise your brows, color on your cheeks, on your cold little nose. “I mean… you… I…”

“Thank-”

“I mean whatever. Bring that back tomorrow.” You blink in surprise as he shoves your sweater in your hands, and he doesn’t like how excited he is when your fingers brush against his, he doesn’t like how your face in tears made him feel.

He was the head of the Gojo clan, he had to be strong, not a mess for some sad little girl in his class. He turns away and you call out his name softly. He tilts his head, blue eyes glinting at you. “Thank you!”

“Yeah.” He throws a peace sign at you, and Suguru runs up to him now.

“You like her!”

“Do not.”

He did not like you, no… 

Ten year old Satoru was surely falling in love already.

*****

Present Day

“You liked me then!?” You ask incredulously, remembering the look on his big blue eyes as he’d left you with his coat. “I thought you were picking on me?”

“I was… but I wanted your attention.” You exhale now, brushing his hair back gently, his eyes flutter shut. “I still want your attention. I just don’t throw snowballs at you anymore.”

“I mean, it kind of worked?” He laughs now, hot breath against your cheek as you pull back just a bit, cupping his face carefully. “You don’t need to throw snowballs anymore, I threw myself at you just now.”

“Nah, you didn’t. You just brought up something I’ve been dying to do, but too fucking afraid.”

“Afraid of me, you’re Satoru Gojo.” His hand feels so good up and down your back you damn near purr like a cat. “Popular, gorgeous, a sports star.”

“Well I don’t feel like any of that around you. I get… stupid and tongue tied. And say all the wrong shit.” You tilt your head, feeling the energy shift.

“You really liked me, Satoru?”

He sighs, thumb brushing across your lower lip, sending shivers of pleasure from just that down your spine. “Like… That’s not really the word.”

“No?” You whisper.

“No…” Satoru’s lips press against yours once more, and you let out a soft cry from the back of your throat, your hands entangling in his hair, body arching just so, earning his soft moan as he pulls back, your noses touching. “I didn’t just sleep with you before, back at the beginning of college, remember?”

“Oh I remember… somehow, despite the beer.”

“I didn’t because… it would be more.”

You shift just a bit, earning his breath catching, feeling the pressure between your thighs. “Is this too much?”

“No, no. Not enough.” You moan now, as his tongue slips past your lips, swiping in and swirling with yours, you drink up his every breath, as he sips up your cries. “Fuck, feel how hot you are.”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“No, it’s sexy. You’re sexy.” Satoru eases back now, a pink blush on his high cheekbones. “Story time, ready for more? If you listen good, Santa will take good care of you.” He teases, brushing thumbs over your nipples.

“Of course, Santa Toru. Carry on.”

Satoru smirks, looking so charming, you feel your blood rushing through your veins, struggling to calm as he speaks. “Remember eighth grade well?”

“Of course, you were already a little wise guy.” You earn his serious look, and he is shaking his head. And then it hits, that memory, of your first kiss ever with anyone, with Satoru Gojo. “You mean our kiss?”

“Yeah, our kiss.”

*****

The Second time Satoru tried to tell you his feelings

Eighth Grade- Age 14

Satoru was extremely popular, especially with the girls in school, he had several of them all over him even though he came on a date with one of your pretty classmates. You at this point have the biggest crush on him, though you certainly wouldn’t tell him, and he wouldn’t look at you that way, surely. You’re sipping on punch as you sit on one of the bleachers, watching everyone dance.

Little do you know, Satoru is watching you, his blue eyes keep peering your way over and over, looking at how cute you are in this pink, floofy little dress, one he didn’t expect to see you in. You’re nervously fidgeting with your little red solo plastic cup, smiling and waving a bit at him, as girls keep asking him questions, and one is dragging him out to the dance floor.

You watch Satoru with his hands on her waist, the thoughts of that alone make you feel sick for some reason, you’re not sure why. Suguru Geto comes up to you now with a smile, long hair pulled half up off his head, holding a hand out, you look around. “You sure? Me?”

“Yes you silly, you look pretty tonight.” You can’t stop the shy smile on your face as he stands you up, taking you to the floor for your first dance with someone.

“Thanks Suguru.” You say, he puts his hands on your waist as you both sway side to side, and you feel Satoru’s eyes burning holes as you both do, as he spins around the dance floor.

“Do you like him?”

“Like who?”

“Satoru.” Suguru tilts his head, and you want to sink into the floor, exhaling and shaking your head. Suguru smiles. “Not at all?”

“As a friend um… even if so, he’s too busy with his fan club.” Suguru chuckles at that, spinning you now.

“You think he doesn’t like you?”

“No way he does.” Suddenly Satoru’s standing between you both, arms crossed, his face just gets prettier every year, it’s really not fair you think.

“My turn.” He says, and Suguru gives a little mock bow, winking at you and dancing with another girl, Satoru’s hands tremble when they hit your waist, fingertips brushing over the mesh of your skirt. Something about the contact makes you gasp, your eyes flying to him when your hands rest on his shoulders, feeling how broad they’ve gotten.

“You don’t have to dance with me, Satoru. Suguru was already being nice.” You look down nervously, afraid to misstep, to accidentally stomp on his foot.

“Why do you think I don’t want to?”

“You have so many pretty girls, but you are a sweet friend. Thank you.” He pauses now, and you pause with him, his blue eyes glinting as there are lights flashing all around you all, in the middle of the dance floor. “What’s wrong, Satoru?”

What’s wrong is how he wants to kiss you, to kiss his best friend, he wonders if your lip gloss tastes yummy, and he shouldn’t wonder. He’s kissed girls, but he has never wanted to kiss anyone like he does you, you’re looking up at him curiously, his hand on the small of your back now. You’re always so shy and insecure, and Satoru doesn’t know why.

You’re so beautiful.

He should tell you.

Instead however, he opens his mouth, then closes it, to open it again, finally he just leaves you. You’re trembling in embarrassment, scowling now and following him out of the throngs of people as people are watching and whispering. You stomp out into the hallway, he even walks right out of the double doors. You follow him and are shouting his name.

“You’re so rude sometimes! You shouldn’t have asked me if you didn’t want to!” You shout, feeling tears pricking your eyes, and Satoru turns around then, tears glistening in his own eyes, making you pause.

“Why can’t you understand?” He asks, cupping your face with a cool hand, and it feels far too good on your overheated cheeks.

“Understand what, that my best friend is being mean?”

“I’m not being mean. I can’t… I can’t…” He exhales now, hormonal brain whirling, why can’t he think of anything good to say!? Why can’t he tell you he’s got it so bad for you, that you’re all he thinks of sometimes? But he’s so scared because you’re so close to him, such a good friend. What if you don’t feel the same?

“You can tell me anything. Always.” You cup his hand on your cheek, he feels how warm it is under his touch, leaning down now, your eyes dart to his lips, lashes casting shadows on your cheeks. “What are you…”

Satoru presses his lips against yours, your first kiss ever, you pause as your heart is pounding in your chest, unsure of what to do. Where do you put your hands!? Where do you… stand? You step back and look at him with shock, he’s so serious which is nothing like the Satoru you know, a goofy silly boy who’s always bright and smiling.

“You just kissed me.” You whisper, unable to say what you want to, that you have never felt your heart beat so fast, that you have never imagined a kiss from the boy you have it so bad for. That you’re so happy you could spin.

“I did.” Is all he manages, it sounds choked out, as he leans close again, the wind fluttering leaves around your feet, in uncomfortable platform heels you’ve stolen from your mother’s closet.

“But don’t you have a date tonight?” You touch your lips, still tingling with him, and Satoru gulps now, visible, leaning in close again. “Don’t confuse me, please, you would never be interested in me.”

“Why do you think that way? Why can’t you see that I-”

“Satoru!” Satoru’s date comes out now, and you feel terrible, you feel so embarrassed, especially when he shoots her a smile, and then a sullen look at you as she grabs his arm. “Oh it’s Satoru’s little friend. You’re like a little sister, right?”

You glare hurt eyes at Satoru now, and he feels himself closing right back up, knowing how bad those words hurt you, how confused you must be. “A little sister? Is that what you call me?” You ask, quietly, hiding your every feeling.

“I said we were really close like family, yes, but…” You laugh just a bit, blinking back tears, looking at his date now.

“He’s definitely just like family. Have fun you two.” You stomp off then, and Satoru wants to stop you, wants to say something, but he thinks he’ll just make it worse. You left right after, he didn’t see you the rest of the dance, and the next week at school you were back to normal, his sweet friend, you both didn’t bring it up, what happened.

Satoru knew he hurt your feelings, and he didn’t know how to apologize, or how to tell you how much the kiss meant, and how badly during every school project, every study session, that he wanted to do it again. So instead, he just stays your friend, wondering if you forgot it all.

*****

Present Day

You feel pesky tears prick the back of your eyes, sighing shakily now as Satoru’s lips pout just a bit, his brows drawn together. “You felt something for me? Then?”

“Yes, I wanted to tell you, but I fucked it all up.” You remember how hurt you were, to be called that, after your first kiss, remember rushing home and crying in your bed all night.

“I thought it was some dare or something.” You admit, and he leans forward, shaking his head, pulling you more firmly against his hard body, a body you’ve dreamt of being pressed against this way more than once.

“No, not at all. You looked pretty in that dress, I remember it like it was yesterday, exactly what you wore.” Satoru’s voice gets husky as his gaze lowers, to your breasts that are showcased in black and red lace over your dress, you feel it like a caress, filling you with longing.

“You were my first kiss.” You say now, his eyes widen in surprise.

“I didn’t know that.”

“You never asked. You never brought it up again.” You swipe at an errant tear as Satoru cups your face gently.

“I was a shithead.” You giggle now, nodding. “You’re not supposed to agree!”

“Well you were. Why’d you kiss me, Satoru?” You lean in close, lips just a breath from him now, tasting his sweetness on his lips, tantalizing you.

“I thought it would be my epic moment. You rushed after me, thought I’d tell you how I feel, finally. But then…”

“How did you feel?” He sighs now, kissing your lips once more.

“You listened to story number two, I said I’d treat you for being so good. On the nice list, hmm?” You giggle again, as he kisses down your chest.

“You’re avoiding the question… mmm… not complaining.” You gasp when he reveals one of the peaks of your breasts now, he lets out a soft moan.

“You’re so pretty.” His lips are descending on it, latching on a nipple and sucking. You enwrap your hands in his hair, pulling it while he sucks on it with his hot mouth.

Desire shoots down your body, making you tremble, Satoru’s hand presses against your tummy, fingers slipping against the soft velvet of your dress, your eyes roll back at how good it feels when his teeth nip at the peak. He pulls back, strings of saliva dripping from his lips, then he’s pulling your other one out, shifting you to straddle his lap, and you feel him.

Fuck he feels so good against you, when you sink down on his lap, and he’s got another peak in his mouth, his hand squishing the other, lips trailing back up, looking at you under those snowy lashes. You’re trembling now, thighs tense as you feel his length under those slacks, pressing against soaked panties. His head falls back as he sinks your hips lower.

“Oh my god.” He murmurs. “You’re so wet from just that? You’re so desperate for me, hmm?”

“Oh fuck you.” You glare, he laughs softly as you try to back up, yanking you back down.

“I like you so needy. It’s cute.” Your eyes are just narrowed now, and you slide your hips down his length, earning him tensing, sucking in a breath.

“You’re needy. It’s so cute.”

“Brat.” He brings your lips back down to his, and relishes in the feel of you, the taste of you. God he’s wanted this for so long, but he has to tell you, he has to tell you what’s in his heart, even if he is currently thinking of sinking into the heat that’s grinding on his cock. He pulls away, physically painful, looking into your dazed eyes.

“More stories!? We’re gonna need a break, I won’t be able to focus.” Your hair is falling softly against his chest as you roll your hips again, and he presses up, feeling the slick heat even through the barriers.

“For every story you listen to, I’ll make you cum.” He watches the mess that makes you with a satisfied grin.

“But I’ve already listened to two!”

“There are three more.”

“You can’t cum five times in one…”

“You’re doubting me, hmm?” Your lips press his again, and he hoists you up, holding you effortlessly in strong arms, pressing you against the wall now, the coolness on your back doing nothing to cool down your body.

“Maybe you’re all talk, all star.” He snorts now, easing you down, pressing his arms on either side of you.

“Then a little demonstration, before the next story.” His hand slips up your dress by the hem, baring your thighs, you tremble as your eyes lock, and he finds you over your panties, dripping and sticky. “Fuck, these are ruined.”

“Shut up, Satoru.” You whine out as he presses against your clothed clit, moaning as he does, pressing his finger up higher, you’re whimpering, slick coating his fingers. “Please…”

“Please what, sweet girl?” Satoru murmurs softly, and you’re trembling, hand gripping his wrist, feeling the strong muscles on his arm.

“Touch me.” He slips his fingertips under your panties now, finding your aching clit and rubbing in circles, making you throb around nothing, head slamming back into the wall as his lips capture yours again. He moves in tantalizing circles, quicker and quicker, working you up, making you want more and more. “Ngh!”

“Those sounds you make, fuck.” He huffs, pressing his finger up more, blue eyes flicking over your face, free hand cupping your chin. “Let go, I’ve got you.”

He starts pressing up more, your cunt soaking his fingers as he works your clit so good, you’re gasping when it hits you, the orgasm from Satoru’s long fingers that keep slipping to tease your entrance. You’re dying for more, but he pulls his finger away, your hands are clinging to his shirt, crumpling the fancy fabric, Satoru slips his finger to his lips now, moaning.

“You’re so sweet tasting. Mmm.” He kisses you again, coating your lips with your own slick, you’re grinding up against his thigh that’s now slotted between yours. “Can’t wait to drink you up.”

“Drink me, I… Toru, the things you’re saying…” He’s kissing down your cheek, down your neck, before he pulls back with a smile. “Let me…”

Your hand slips down his abdomen, feeling the muscles tense under your touches. “Not yet, horny little nerd.”

“Oh whatever!” You shove at him now, as he doesn’t allow you to touch his cock whatsoever yet, gripping your wrist above your head.

“That’s one, I’ll give you four more, but I need you to listen.”

“Or what, I’m on the naughty list?” You tease, tugging on his hat, he fixes it back on his head with a smirk. “Who knew you even remembered little things like that about me.”

“Little things? That kiss wasn’t a little thing.” You melt at his words.

Words Satoru has longed to tell you.

“Why didn’t you let me know?”

“I tried. A couple more times. Now… Come on, we’ll make an appearance, and continue this soon. Don’t you pout, can’t just use me for my body.”

“Oh god.” You breathlessly giggle as you all get back to the party, and Satoru’s snatching you up in his arms for a dance, you feel your friends gazing upon you both, sharing knowing looks. “You sure can dance, Satoru.”

“Of course I can.” He spins you now, bringing your back against him, you feel his strong chest on your back, your ass pressed against his hard thighs. His hands guide your hips as the music plays, soft and sweet like his caresses.

“So what’s next, Santa Toru? On the cringy memory train of me.”

“Cringy of you? Nah. Well, the next trip of Christmas past would be… Sophomore year of high school. Remember that bowling night?”

“Bowling night, which one?” You’re turning your head to look up at him, his santa hat is falling just so, as you sway with him, and remember.

*****

The Third Time Satoru tried to tell you his feelings

Sophomore Year of High School- age 16

Satoru and you had fallen back into an easy friendship, you all were going bowling, Suguru, Shoko, Nanami, you and Satoru. You all were always together, along with a couple other close friends, and Satoru’s new girlfriend, she was very pretty and very clingy, all over him to the point Suguru was laughing at it. Satoru could barely get a moment to breathe.

Nanami is showing you how to bowl, and something in Satoru tenses, as you’re giggling up at him and grinning, and he sees Nanami is blushing. He’s mentioned a few times he thinks you’re sweet and pretty, and Satoru supposes no one else he knows would be good enough for you, aside from his friends. But it hurts, to see his hand on your shoulders, on your back.

Satoru’s girlfriend is kissing all on his neck, irritatingly, she’s gorgeous and a star cheerleader, who should be with the star player, right? Satoru supposes that’s what is done, and he loves making out with her and more… but… something about you is addling his psyche, constantly. Every time you laugh it’s like his heart tightens, every brush of your skin against his makes him weak.

Even hugging you was hard now, so he’d backed off a bit, you’re too pretty, you smell too good, you look so pretty in those little school uniforms. He can’t even stand to see you in those skirts. Thankfully you’re just wearing blue jeans, so that he didn’t have to stress even more about you and Nanami.

Why can’t he just tell you!?

He gets so tongue tied around you, Satoru Gojo, the boy who can’t ever shut up, but with you he stutters, he stammers, he blushes. And ever clueless, you have no idea what your effects are on him, on anyone. Still so insecure, but Satoru really does not know why or how, can’t you tell that you alone make him go crazy? That all these girls are just not you.

You smile at him now, a little sad he notices, waving, and only serving to make his girlfriend clingier. You walk up now, looking at him for a moment, before looking at the group. “Does anyone want pizza? I’m so hungry, I’ll buy.”

“I’ll come with you.” Satoru stands now, his girlfriend huffs.

“Don’t leave me, Gojo.”

“Just gonna get food, you want something baby?” Baby, the little term crushes your damn teenage heart, as Satoru pecks a kiss on his girlfriend’s lips, and you can’t get over Satoru enough to even have a dating life. You compare any man to him, to this ever taller, lanky best friend of yours.

Satoru’s gotten six feet tall now, towering over everyone, and the basketball has only served to enhance every muscle. Just being at his game yesterday, seeing his muscles in his jersey had been too much to handle, you’d had to jot it all down in your diary, fast becoming a Satoru Gojo diary. Not that you could say anything, he’s always got a girl on his arm.

You remember that kiss so well, what had he been thinking? Sometimes you worry it was some dare, some joke or something. It’s the only kiss you’ve had still, though you think if you had another you could maybe start pushing that back, maybe realize it wasn’t so amazing, right?

Satoru comes with you now, walking beside you, hands in the pockets of his jeans, you all are walking toward the food court. “Missed ya short stuff.”

“Missed you, tall ass.” You giggle now as he grins down at you, nudging you. “Everyone’s short compared to you. What are you even eating!?”

“Lots of candy and cookies.”

“Ah, that’s the secret. I’ll grab you something sweet.” You order pizza for everyone, then you order churros, one of Satoru’s favorites. He moans when he sees it, hugging and picking you up, you try to ignore how the casual touch gets you.

“Thank you, sweets.” He smacks a kiss on your cheek, you cup your face carefully, looking down at your tennis shoes.

“No biggie. Gotta feed you, growing boy and all.” He starts nibbling as you all wait for the pizza to finish, sitting at a little booth now, his thighs are spread and they’re so long they’re pressing against your thighs, making you so flustered, but you’re sure he doesn’t notice.

He does notice though, he notices everything about you, he wants to tell you then, to stop this facade of friendship. But he’s on a date, and you’re both with friends in a crowded bowling alley. It doesn’t seem the right moment, but he’s carefully watching you while you are taking a little sip of your drink.

“Have a bite.” He says, and you freeze.

An indirect kiss!?

You are thinking too much!

You lean forward and take a nibble, he watches as you do, little crystals of sugar on your lips. “Yummy.”

An indirect kiss!

Satoru thinks with a smile, wiping the little bit of sugar dust off you, and then freezing. You both freeze, your eyes locked on each other, Satoru’s thumb lingers on your lower lip, eyes lowering to stare at it, your chest rises and falls with your breaths, his attention now on your collarbone, where you still wear that necklace he got you forever ago.

A friendship necklace.

“You still wear that, huh?” He asks quietly now, you touch it as is a habit, it’s a long faded half of a yin yang.

“Of course I do. Do you have yours?”

“I still have it.” You smile, brightening his heart then, and he opens his mouth, he has to just say it, to say he has that necklace dangling off a picture frame, and the picture is of you and him. A polaroid you all took together on a field trip, that he looks at it every night.

“That makes me unreasonably happy. I was sure you tossed it.”

Satoru blinks. “Tossed it?”

“Well yeah, we’re older now, and I know Suguru is your real best friend. I’m like secondary, honorary.” You playfully mess up his perfect silky locks, but he doesn’t laugh, no he’s serious again, as serious as that eighth grade dance.

“Do you like Nanami?” He asks suddenly, surprising you.

“He is sweet and so handsome, yeah. I do like emo boys a bit. Why?” You ask curiously, pretending to like Nanami, would it make it less painfully obvious that you’re in love with Satoru?

He frowns now. “I didn’t like seeing you two-”

“Pizza’s up.” Satoru uses the moment, hopping up, leaving you confused, but he doesn’t even acknowledge any of it, just grabbing the pizza boxes and smiling down at you casually.

“Satoru, what did you mean? Do you think I wouldn’t be good for Nanami?” You ask, insecurities wracking you. He shakes his head as you both head toward your friends again, through the busy room.

“No, I didn’t say that, not at all.”

“So what do you mean?” He opens his mouth again, just as his girlfriend bounces up and smiles at him, and you realize how foolish you are to think he meant that.

You all go back to being more separated, Nanami has gotten you a slice of pizza and you’re both sitting together and smiling, but your eyes keep going to Satoru, hurt in them when his clingy ass girlfriend practically drapes herself on him. Satoru needs to let these feelings go, he’s doing nothing but hurting and confusing you. So he decides the best thing to do?

A little bit of distance.

*****

Present Day

“Is that why you basically ignored me for like months?” You ask curiously, Satoru spins and dips you, bending you back over his arm in a move that would make anyone swoon, and of course you do, his lips hovering over yours.

He brings you back up, making you dizzy and breathless. “I thought I was hurting you, confusing you.”

“You definitely were confusing. But I missed you when you didn’t spend any time with me at all. That hurt.” He nods just a bit, the song is ending, and you’re still pressed so close against him.

“I wanted to say that I didn’t like Nanami with you, because I wanted to be with you. But how could I say that?”

“I don’t know… you could have tried to?”

“Stop being all logical.” You snort now. “Another orgasm on the list.” He whispers against your ear, you tremble now.

“Are you all finally going to get this tension taken care of?” Shoko asks, and you gasp, realizing they’re all watching you two.

“Tension?”

“Since high school.” Shoko says.

“Nah, Middle School.” Nanami counters.

“Even younger.” Suguru chimes in, and you watch Gojo’s cute little blush overtake his perfect pale skin.

“Seems like you all planned this.” You admonish, and they whistle, looking every which way, but Satoru looks right at you still.

“Think you’re invited to the afterparty, my place?” He says softly, unlike most of the people in dorms or frat houses, Satoru has his own place, beautiful too. You look at your friends now.

“Are they invited?”

“Nah, exclusive.”

“Oh just go, dear god. I’m so tired of the pining.” Shoko says, shoving at Satoru and handing you your coat.

“You kicking us out!?” You demand playfully, only being shooed right out, into the cold snowy night with Satoru. His hands come to warm your cheeks, as you stare at him with glittery eyes, eyes that make his heart falter every time. “Satoru I really… I’ve been… for so long…”

“Ah-ah. You have two more Christmas stories. C’mon, I’ll tell you one on the way.” You follow him breathlessly to his fancy black sports car, he turns on the heat after he starts the car, a hand pressing on your thigh. You lean close to his side, cuddling against him for warmth like a cat. “Remind me to get you cold more often.”

“I hate the cold, ugh. You’re warm though.” You snuggle closer, shutting your eyes and inhaling the scent of his cologne. “Feels so natural.”

“I know, it always scared me.”

“Did it? Wait, are we transitioning to another teen Gojo tale!?”

He chuckles now, one hand brushing against your thigh, you’re wrapped around his arm, his other hand guiding the steering wheel, the lights scattering across the dark night, reflecting his perfect profile. You feel the heat building and building, even worse by the orgasm he’d brought you, planting a little kiss on his neck.

Your lips on his neck drive him so crazy, as does your sweet little body against him, he inhales that scent he’s always loved, this vanilla cupcake scent that makes his mouth water. How do you still smell just like that? How do your lips still taste so sweet, burned in memories.

“I really should tell you how I feel too.” You say softly, and his heart pounds in his ears as he tries to focus on the road. “After your two last stories, Santa.”

“Ah, yes. Be good and listen.” His hand now wraps your waist, making your thoughts anything but nice, but you nod against his neck, holding him close. “We’re up to Senior year, are you ready for the trip?”

“Ready. What part of Senior year, spirit guide?”

“That closet.” His voice gets husky.

“Oh… oh shit.”

*****

The fourth time Satoru tried to tell you his feelings

Senior Year of High School- age 18

“I can’t believe they put us in here.” You whisper, trapped in the closet with Satoru Gojo, just last week he was proclaimed prom King, and he’s as popular as ever, somehow taller too.

Satoru’s mind is foggy as he stands in the little closet with you, he’s so close he can inhale that scent, he can feel you against him. He feels his body react, god if he just brushes against you it does. And you’re both just not as close as you once were, since the awkwardness of watching you with Nanami, who you even dated for a few months, much to his displeasure to see.

You’re both single now, something that hasn’t happened in some time, it seems Satoru always has arm candy, and you always were left to wonder if he’d ever notice you. Even in a closet, you imagine his mind is far away, perhaps on his ex-girlfriend, the prom queen and cheer captain. You couldn’t even do a somersault without getting injured, a clumsy mess.

You hate comparing yourself, but you can’t help it with Satoru, you’ve had boyfriends now, you’ve had kisses. A little more experience. But something keeps drawing you back to all the what ifs, of how someone can be so close to you, yet so distant, just out of reach, as if you couldn’t touch him like you wanted… some barrier he has.

“They’re just always thinking you have a crush on me.” Satoru says teasingly, cocky as hell. You snort, rolling your eyes.

“Uh huh. Well I don’t.”

“I don’t either.”

For some reason his words hurt you, and deeply.

Just like your errant words hurt him.

Both of you lying, both of you hurting, and for what? Well, because you still can’t picture a world where Satoru likes you, and he can’t manage to open up, to be honest with you. He’s right behind your back, you feel his breaths against your neck, blowing and tickling your hair now, making you tremble.

“Good, wouldn’t wanna break your nerdy heart.” He whispers, hands on your waist, taking it over, long fingers sinking into the jut of your hips. Your breath comes even quicker in the dark, quiet room now.

“You’re mean lately, your head’s so big I don’t know how it fits through doors.” Satoru laughs, meanly, pressing harder against you.

“Not the only thing that’s big.” He whispers, you tremble now, looking back nervously, eyes adjusting in the dark.

“W-well I won’t find out. Not your type.”

“Says who?”

“Says your very long list of girls. And that’s cool, but don’t confuse me.” You turn to him now, pressed against him intimately in the closet, and suddenly everything stops, the world stops, as he holds you in his arms. As he feels your bare skin from your crop top, so sexy he wishes no one else could see you. “Satoru…”

“You’re beautiful.” Your breath stops in your lungs, when he leans in so close, god it’s been four years since middle school, but you can still feel it lingering, that kiss all those years ago. His words muddle your mind.

“What?”

“Beautiful. You always have been, okay? Stop thinking that you’re not.” Your tears hit your eyes, while you tremble in his strong hold, fire coursing through your veins, mind whirling.

“Oh, thank you Satoru. That’s sweet.”

“Sweet? Nah.”

“It is. Thank you.” You lean up now, kissing his cheek, he shuts his eyes at how good you feel, your every curve pressed against him, his hands slipping down your hips now, you gasp, a little breathy, sexy sound. He turns his head now, lips brushing yours for just a moment.

Just a moment and then he’s devouring your mouth, tongue slipping in, taking over everything you are, and you melt with him, tongue meeting his stroke for stroke, as he presses you further against him. His hand pulls at your hair, making pain hit your scalp, but it feels so good. You moan, a sound you’ve not made with a guy, and he practically growls now.

Satoru presses you against the wall, the clothes on either side of you separating, dresses on either side of your skin when he lifts you, and your legs wrap around his hips. You pull back to suck in a breath, looking at Satoru with wide eyes, and he glints even in the dark, his lips glossy, he’s breathing as heavy as you. His strong hands grip your thighs, you feel how excited you are then.

“Satoru, what are we doing?” You ask carefully, and he wants to finally say it, in this closet, at some dumb party. He wants to say it, that he’s in love, that kissing you is better than anything he could imagine.

The door knocks now. “Seven minutes over!” You both separate quickly, you adjust your skirt, embarrassed at how you reacted, your nipples tight against your top, clearly visible, judging by his bright blue eyes that are glaring at them.

“What was that!?” You demand in a hushed whisper, and he opens his mouth, as the door keeps knocking. He glares now, opening it, and seeing it’s his ex, prom queen herself, she looks at you both and laughs now.

“Well that was probably a boring seven minutes.” You feel the words crush you, making you feel sick, you can feel you’re literally on fire from him. What is this, is this just what he does!?

Satoru sees you rushing away, and he follows you, ignoring his ex, trailing you and shouting your name. It was your turn to run from him, he supposes, usually it’s him running. He finally catches you, you’re shivering as the chill of autumn is hitting, and you’re barely wearing anything.

“You’re gonna get sick in that, wearing nothing!”

“You’re not my big brother. Certainly not right now after… what even was that!?” You demand, turning to him, eyes glistening with tears.

He feels it like a punch to the gut.

“You can’t just kiss me when you’re bored and date everyone else, everyone in your league.” Tears are falling, you’re shivering, Satoru gulps, shaking his head now.

“No, it’s not that. You’re in anyone’s league, fuck you’re out of anyone’s. I didn’t kiss you because of that.”

“Then why? Don’t you know, it means a lot to me?”

“I…”

“I’m not like you, I don't just sleep around.”

Satoru glares now. “And who says I do?”

“The entire school! And I don’t care as a friend, but I do care if you think I’m available like that.”

“You think I want to fuck you?” He asks, raising a brow, and your heart sinks in your stomach. “I didn’t try to fuck you, did I?”

“Then what…”

“Kissing, in a closet. You think that means sex? You’re cute, little virgin.” He pats your head and you smack at his hand, glaring, hurt written all over your face. Satoru hates himself so much, but he can’t say it, especially now. How can he even begin to tell you the truth!?

“I know what sex is.” Satoru glares. “I’m not an amusement, I’m your friend, you can’t act like that.”

“Fine then I won’t kiss you again, ya happy?”

“No!”

“No?” You shake your head, stomping away now, he grabs your wrist, making you glare at it. “Please, I’m sorry. I just…”

“Just what!?” Your face is covered with tears. “Just go get your prom queen, and leave me alone.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I… I shouldn’t have…”

“Shouldn’t have kissed me?” You whisper, he just gulps, aching to tell you how badly he wants you, to tell you he is in love with you. But he just stands there, like a damn idiot, as you continue to cry, yanking your hand away. “Don’t worry, we’ll just forget it.”

“What!? I didn’t-”

“Good bye.”

*****

Present Day

“Damn this place is beautiful, Satoru.” You murmur as you walk in after riding the elevator up, lingering memories of high school still in the air, creating tension.

His loft is sleek and gorgeous, an expansive open space with high ceilings, windows that overlook the night, you exhale at the view. It’s illuminating the modern room softly, a mix of lights in the buildings and moonlight seeping in. Sleek paintings of all kinds decorate his walls, it’s cozy and inviting, you’ve been here before, but something is different.

Everything is different.

“You want a drink, Sweets?” He murmurs softly, his hands slipping up and down your back, creating a network of goosebumps everywhere he touches.

“Am I staying the night Toru?” You tease. He smiles so big now, illuminating the room.

“Of course you are. You won’t be able to walk when I’m done with you.” Your breath catches at his tone, he casually smirks and saunters off to his kitchen, leaving you pulsing, as if your pussy has a goddamn heartbeat. “Aw, shy now?”

“N-no. I’ll take one.” You follow him into the pretty, sleek kitchen, Satoru has cookies he’s made earlier sitting on the stove, he pulls out bottles from his bar, mixing you up a drink, you take it and eye the cookies. “Are you baking for Santa?”

“I’m interested in your cookie.”

“Oh stop!” You snort in laughter, he does too, finally taking the santa hat off, popping it right on your head carefully. You lean up, slicking back his hair into place, feeling it like silk under your touch.

“You’re getting minimum four orgasms tonight. But I’ll give you a fifth if you can guess the next time I fucked up.”

“Guess? Shit… I think it was the night we both fucked up.”

“Ding-ding-ding.” He taps your nose, you smile at it, then he sips his drink as you do, now leaning back against the counter, looking up at him. “You’ve been so good though, I think I’ll give you another right now.”

“Oh yeah? I’m on the nice list?” You gasp when he’s bending low, sinking two fingers under your panties and inside your eager cunt, he moans out loud with you when you cling to him. “Oh f-fuck…”

“S’tight, s’wet…” He’s pressing that spongy spot in your gummy little walls now, your head falls back, leg wrapped on his, he’s kissing down your neck as he presses over and over, making you see stars. “There’s that spot. Good girl.”

“Toru!” You cry out as he fingers you with his stupidly long fingers, longer than the one guy you’ve been with, longer than his entire cock. You’re sure he didn’t hit as deep as Satoru’s fingers, and he surely didn’t finger you like that. You’re overtaken, cunt dripping down his hand, down to his silver rolex and dress sleeves.

“Hear yourself, huh sweetheart? How fuckin wet you are.” His low tone just edges you further, now he’s pulling back to look at you, and you’re closer and closer.

“Fuck me, please.” You beg, he moans, shaking his head.

“Not yet.”

“Oh fuck your santa stories, and fuck me-” He slams his lips on yours, pumping his fingers in and out of your soppy little cunt now, and you hear it squishing lewdly in the quiet loft, he presses other fingers against your breast, squishing as he pumps them, until you fall over the edge now, cumming so hard you can’t see.

“There it is, you’re taking them so good.” He cooes those words, you’re already fucked out and you haven’t even been fucked by him yet. You blink and struggle to make him come into focus, gasping for stuttering breaths.

“Oh my… oh my… I…” The room is spinning, he takes his fingers, dripping wet with your arousal, shoving them into your mouth now.

“Taste how sweet you are.” He orders, and you do just that, sucking on his fingers, tongue swirling around them, your pussy is pulsing more and more wetness out, as you crave more of him. “God you’re sexy.”

“Please…” You pull him down by his collar, kissing him, swapping the taste of you, only making Satoru harder. He can’t wait to bury his face in your plump little cunt, god it’s all he can think of.

“Patience. You came twice already, look at me.” You grab him then, and he about dies, nearly cumming from your touch, gasping.

“Let me take care of you.”

“Fuck you’re a little horny brat. You have one more story.” You sigh then, head falling back, for more of Satoru’s kisses and bites, he wants to fuck you senseless, but he also wants to savor this, to make this perfect for you.

“Oh fine but I’m aching.”

Well so is he, precum making a wet spot in his boxers, straining against the fabric of his jeans, just from the smallest little touch. You’re so wet and hot there, so greedily your cunt sucked up his fingers, he can only hope he can last, if you touch him at all it will probably end him. He’s been waiting for this moment for so long.

“One more story, can you last?” He challenges. You giggle then, nodding.

“I can make it.” He studies you, bright eyed in that damn santa hat, imagining how beautiful your body must look while he gently strokes your shoulders, you bite your lip, eyes lidded with desire.

He hopes he can make it too.

*****

The Fifth time Satoru tried to tell you his feelings

College- Sophomore year- age 20

Everyone was celebrating the ball game, they had won nationals, and everyone was praising the all stars, Suguru and Satoru. They also were top of the fraternity, none of this was really your style, you were focused a little more on academics, though you helped Satoru study a ton to keep his high GPA, he was as smart as could be and still could accomplish so much.

You had been so proud of him, cheering him on from the stands eagerly. You all had taken some time to make up after that high school party, but truly you couldn’t be mad at him for long. You equated it to some strong spiked punch and being shoved in a closet together, close proximity. It certainly couldn’t be anything else.

Satoru comes up to you now with a big wide grin on his face, picking you up and spinning you, donned only in a Toga, showing far too much of his chiseled body. “Missed you short stuff!”

“Missed you too, Toru.” He hugs you so tight you hear your damn ribs creak, before he finally sets you down.

“You at a Frat Party!?”

“Yes, I had to celebrate the victory with you. So I make an appearance.”

“Elusive.” Suguru comes up and says, you hug him tightly.

“I miss you too!”

“You should hang out more.” He looks at Satoru. “Way more, shouldn’t she?”

“Um what? Sure.” He shrugs, looking away, as his friend calls him the fuck out, but luckily you’re oblivious, still a little shy, insecure thing.

If you were his you’d never feel that way.

But could you ever be? Or was Satoru stuck in this friend zone with you, until you move on, get married, have kids… go be a writer, he’s sure you’ll be famous, you’re so talented. And he’ll marry who he’s supposed to, who his parents pressure him to, and have a career with basketball, soon what would you all be, memories of each other?

But then why do you still wear it?

It’s a charm on your bracelet now, he imagines the little rope it was on broke long ago with all the wear it got, but you have his little yin charm right there, along with more charms you’ve added over the years. His gaze darts up your body, you’re wearing a sexy little grecian gown to go with the theme, with a golden crown in your hair of fake leaves.

You’ve even got glitter all over your skin, you’re so damn beautiful, like an actual goddess. So effortlessly pretty you take his breath away, he feels the effects of studying your curves right on his cock, he shifts then, hoping you can’t see it. But your eyes remain on his, as Suguru hands you a beer.

“Thanks Suguru. You all know I don’t drink these though.”

“Oh don’t be a baby, do it.” Satoru teases, you snort, and Satoru’s watching hungrily as you sip it. “What a baby sip.”

“I’m not chugging it!”

“Well I’m doing a keg stand.” Suguru gives you a little peck on the cheek, smirking as he earns Satoru’s ire. He knows more than anyone how long Satoru has been pathetic for you.

How do you not know?

“Go have fun, crazy.” You step a little closer to Satoru now, looking at the loud game of beer pong.

“Wanna play?”

“Oh god no, I’ll suck so bad.”

“Nah, c’mon.” Satoru drags you over by your hand, wondering if tonight could be the night. He’s coming off this high of winning that championship, you’re standing here looking like Venus herself, surely he can do it.

Why is he so afraid to tell you?

Soon you all are competitive, but he’s winning, annihilating you honestly, smacking every bounce you attempt, throwing and sinking endless pong balls into those solo cups. You pout now, earning his laughter as you keep sipping on your beer, until you end up with another. You finally sink one and bounce up and down, arms in the air, so fucking cute.

“Haha- take that, Toru!” You place your hands on your hips, sticking your tongue out, he’s reminded of the day he met you, the day he thought you were so cute he needed to yank your pigtails, and you’d stuck out a tongue.

“One hit and you’re claiming victory? What are you, the goddess of war?”

“Goddess of nothing, silly. You’re the one looking like a god.” You flush so damn cute now, looking down shyly at your words.

“A god hmm? Fits me.”

“Oh you’re so conceited.” You roll your eyes at him, but he does look like one, his strong, long, chiseled frame. He’s so gorgeous it makes you ache, he always has been, but it’s like every time you see him it’s worse, this need, this desire.

To be with him in so many ways.

Ways you haven’t yet, ways you shouldn’t want him.

“Finish the game, brat.” He tosses a ball your way, you laugh now, sinking another one and cheering, and soon you’re both a little tipsy, and playing together against Shoko and Suguru.

You both kick their asses, much to their dismay, Shoko opts for vodka shots like a classy bitch, Suguru is on another keg stand, and you and Satoru are giggling and dancing around to the music. It’s so loud you feel it thrumming through your entire body, Satoru’s so easy to fall into, you keep trying to hold back, but how can you? When he’s everything you’ve ever wanted.

And how can Satoru ever hold back with you? He’s tried, four different times, to tell you how much he loves you, yet… How can he? As he’s grabbing your hip, pulling you against him, your head falling on his chest, as you’re grinning so big, he just… has to say it.

He has to.

“I need to say something…” He murmurs then, you can barely hear him, leaning up closer.

“Hmm? What Toru?”

Someone bumps into you then, knocking you against Gojo, and he glares now, shoving at the drunk frat brother. You wave your arms to stop him. “What the fuck man, watch it.”

“Shit, my bad Gojo, chill.” He then grins all big as he looks at you, where your toga is now falling, revealing far too much of your breast. You squeak, quickly trying to pin it up, and now Gojo’s torn between wanting to see you, and anger at this asshole. Gojo shoves him into a wall then.

“Don’t fuckin’ look at her.” He says through his teeth, surprising you then.

“What, she's your girl? Weren’t you just banging a girl out last night?” He says with a laugh, and Satoru pauses, but you hear it.

You feel sick then, stepping back, how can you be so dumb, to think Satoru would want you, or choose you!? He’s never going to be interested, the only times he’s kissed you he was… why had he kissed you!? What was this friendship? Was it a friendship at all or you holding on to the idea of hope with him.

You’re blinking back stupid tears as you run off to a room, sobbing as you struggle to fix your toga, only for Satoru to walk in. You glare now.

“Go!”

“We’re not together, why are you mad if I fuck someone?” He demands, and you sputter, shaking your head, tears hot and sticky as they fall.

“I shouldn’t be upset.”

“Then why?” He’s right against you, big hands on your shoulders, you look up at him now, mascara streaking down your cheeks, his stomach drops at it.

“Because I’ll never be… I’ll never be…”

“Be what?”

“Yours.”

“Wh-what!?” You shake your head now, running out of the room, Satoru’s chasing you, reminiscent of two years ago, fuck it’s always a chase, a push and pull. “Come here! Stop it!”

“No, I’m done with this, with you giving me bits of affection, only to ruin them.” You shove at him now, he’s grabbing you, pulling you against him. “Don’t you kiss me, don’t you dare tease me.”

“I don’t kiss you to tease you, I kiss you-”

“For a game!”

“Shut your mouth.”

You scowl. “You shut your mouth.” Satoru shuts both your mouths, as you’re outside the insane frat house, pressing you against the brick wall of the dormitory, smothering your lips with his. You bite his lower lip, glaring as he pulls back.

“Stop running from me, stop hiding.” He begs, and you sigh.

“Why should I? I won’t be a notch on your bedpost.”

“You think-” Several people start filing out now, and Satoru’s got you pressed right on that wall, his chest heaving as he hovers, as the chaos ensues all around you both. “You think you’re that to me?”

“I don’t know what I am to you. A friend you kiss every two fucking years or so?” You say with an angry glare, and he cups your waist, burning your bare skin with his touch, shooting desire straight through you.

“You’re so much more than that. If you’d just let me show you.” He whispers, but you’re so scared then, of letting go, your breathing gets erratic, as you feel his thigh pressing between yours, moving on it, earning his soft moan, vibrating his chest as your hands slip up it. “I have to tell you something, please.”

“I’m listening, mmm.” You arch again, craving him so badly, nothing like you’ve felt with anyone, it’s so maddening.

“I really… I really…” Satoru’s pausing now, stuttering, you make him a mess, he’s resting his head on yours, feeling your heat, thinking of sinking into it. Sure he had girls, only because he couldn’t have you. You were his all consuming thoughts, but how does he put it to words?

“Really…” You urge him on, and he gulps then, panicking. What if you don’t feel the same!? What if he ruins this…

“I really… you’re really…”

“Satoru! Satoru!” They all start cheering then, a whole group of his frat brothers, fists pumping in the air, and he lets you go, leaving you aching with need, he looks at you so longingly, you’re dying to know just what he wanted to say, but he smiles then, kissing your cheek, shaking his head.

“Come on.” He yanks you with him, as everyone starts chanting for Satoru, and you try to pretend you are okay, as Satoru hides his feelings yet again, and as you think maybe you should give up on it happening.

You’re in love with him, and it hurts.

How can you let him go finally?

*****

Present Day

“You were trying to tell me something. Important.” You say softly now, in Satoru’s cozy kitchen, and he nods then, gulping, Adam’s apple bobbing.

“I was. I was trying to confess… that I love you.” You blink once, twice, three times. Surely you’re dreaming. Surely he can’t…

“You love me?” You whisper back, and he nods, so beautiful as he cups your face in his big hands.

“So you see, baby… I can’t just hook up.” Satoru’s words bring you to the present, his eyes are glossy, mirroring the deep emotions you both feel, your breaths come faster, as he lifts you up, placing you on his counter.

“All this time… you felt the same?” You whisper, he swipes at your tears now, smiling.

“You crying?” He asks, and you just nod, remembering that day. “I’ve loved you since I threw those snowballs at you. So, so long ago, I knew it, that I was in love with this pretty, sweet girl.”

“Satoru…” You snatch him to you, kissing him through your falling tears, salty against your sweet lips. Satoru’s heart feels so achingly full, his hands shake as he slips them up your thighs, he’s never been nervous until now. Never felt anything like this, like your thighs around his narrow hips, pressing his fingers into the plush of them.

“There can be no hook up, pretty. I need you to be mine if you want this, I need you to be only mine.” Satoru says softly, possessive now, you feel yourself melting more and more, feel the insane need build inside of you.

“Satoru, I’m in love with you too. I have been, since you gave me your jacket after plowing me with giant snowballs, you mean little shit.” He laughs now, through his own tears, that you swipe with trembling fingers, exhaling. “Oh Satoru, I’ve always been yours.”

He slams his lips on you now, picking you up in his arms, you cling to him as he clumsily navigates you to his room, your tongues not stopping, teeth clicking together with the force of your kisses. You’re drinking every bit of him in, as he’s drinking you in, barely coming up for air, in gasps. Your kisses get hungrier, messier, sloppier than anything you’ve ever known.

Satoru’s hands are all over you as he lays you down on his bed, pressing you into his soft, plush mattress, leaning up to study you, carefully, brushing his fingers across your cheeks, wiping the last of your tears. “All mine?”

“All yours.” He moans again, kissing you deeply, hands slipping up your dress, you’re arching up for more of his touch, his kisses, hands hastily unbuttoning his dress shirt, kissing each piece of revealed skin.

“Baby… I need to see you. Now. Please.” He says softly, giving you puppy dog eyes, you nod, so nervous, when he pulls back, pulling you to sit, and slipping your dress up over your head, the santa hat falling with it. When you’re bare to him aside from your damn panties and lacy little bra, he groans. “Oh my god.”

You are so beautiful his heart pounds in his chest, Satoru drinks you in, your every perfect curve and line, every inch of your silky smooth skin on display. He unlatches your bra with a quick flick, revealing those perfect tits he’d sucked on earlier, god you make his mouth salivate. He’s literally drooling when he gets to your panties now, a soaking mess.

“You got so wet.” He cooes, enjoying your reaction, your hips shifting, thighs pressing together, as he eases them off you, finally seeing your pussy for the first time. “Fuck it’s perfect.”

“Th-thank you… Toru!” He’s lost it now, hungrily staring at your bare cunt, glistening with your arousal, lips all puffy from his edging. He exhales, just his breath making you shiver, crying out.

“So easy, hmm?”

“Oh you… ah!” Satoru breathes against you again, grinning as you jerk, as much as he wants to make love love to you, god he also wants to fuck you senseless.

“Imma ruin you for anyone.” His insane words versus the sweetness wreck you already, you’re screaming out when he flicks his tongue up your slit, looking down into his bright blue eyes, seeing the shift. Satoru is going feral as he inhales you, pressing his face against you, nose bumping your engorged clit, kissing at your entrance.

“Toru!” Your hands are gripping his hair so tightly you’re pulling it, as you feel him against you, as he tastes you there. Then he’s devouring your pussy, spreading the lips wide, tongue sliding into your velvety walls, fucking you with it, making you start to gush all over his pretty face, moaning as your back arches.

Satoru’s lapping up all your honeyed arousal, as you start dripping everywhere, and your walls are fluttering around that wet muscle. “F-fuck, taste s’good… god could do this forever.”

“Ngh!” Is all you manage, incoherent at the pleasure his mouth is giving you, feeling your peak coming as he slips two fingers back in you, pulling back and looking up at you, face glittering in your slick. The sight of it edges you on, as he finally licks your clitoris, just one flick and you shatter.

“That’s it, good girl… s’good f’me.” He whispers, as you’re pulsing around his thick fingers, and he laps up more of your cum. “You’re so messy.”

“M-messy…” You can’t function, you’re trembling with aftershocks, he grins at you, an insane feral fucking grin, his silky white locks falling just so. “Please, lemme see you.” You manage, and he gulps now, blushing pink, shocking you since he’d just been so cocky. “Satoru, lemme touch you.”

“Not too much, I won’t last.” He admits, and leans back off the bed standing, you watch him, raising up on your elbows, hair falling down behind you softly like a curtain. He starts to get undressed, and you drink every inch he bares in slowly, his hard, chiseled body, all the lean muscles, abs cut within an inch of your life. Your eyes go lower now as he unbuckles his belt.

You bite your lip, cunt still aching from his play, from the pleasure he has brought you, but when he gets to his boxers, and your eyes trail down the white hair below his belly button you gasp. His cock slaps that belly button when he takes off his boxers, and Satoru Gojo is huge, thick, long with a curved pink tip, beading with pearly white precum already.

“Oh my god… you’re so beautiful, Satoru.” You say softly, coming to your knees on the bed, he exhales nervously, he has always known he looks good, but hearing you say it meant everything. Seeing the desire makes your eyes dilate and glitter, as your eyes worship him.

“You’re beautiful, especially on your knees.” You kiss down his abdomen, then you kill him, when you grip his cock with your tiny little hand, that friendship charm still dangling from your wrist, and God Satoru cannot wait to buy you real jewelry, a ring to glitter as you stroke him.

His hands enwrap in your hair, pulling it into a ponytail as you lap at his tip with a kitten flick, making his eyes roll back, he can tell you’re maybe not experienced as you try to suck, making out with his tip, but he loves it, he loves you. Anything you’re doing to him, your soft strokes and you sucking more and more, until you’re drooling all over his cock.

“I need to be inside you, now baby. Sorry, I can't take this.” He has you back on your back so quick you barely blink, and then you feel him, stroking his thick tip on your slick cunt, you’re shaking, arching up, so ready.

“Will it fit though?” You ask, and he chuckles, blushing more now.

“As wet as this pussy is? Fuck yeah it will.” You whimper as he’s kissing you, pushing your legs apart with his knee, and aligning his cock with your soaking entrance. “You ready?”

You nod, breath shaky, and Satoru pushes in, so slowly, letting you feel every inch of his thickness filling you up, stretching you. You feel so full, so complete with him inside you, he gasps as he sinks deeper, stretching and burning your skin, but you crave it, you want more, more, more.

He grips your hands, entwining them above your head, so intimate and beautiful you want to cry. “God, baby, you’re so tight. So wet. Fuck… look at you.” He sinks in deeper, lifting a thigh now, releasing a hand, eyes studying every bit of your face as you take more of him. “So pretty.”

“Satoru!” You’re whining out, your nails digging into his back as his cock sliding deeper, deeper still, so many inches you can’t comprehend, until he’s shoved so deep you feel him against your cervix. “Oh my god…”

“Oh my god…” He moans right with you, your pussy clenching him so tight, he can feel your walls gripping him like a vise, but you take him, fuck you take him, so greedy your slick little cunt, pushing him over the edge. “Fuck.. that’s it… slutty little cunt loves it, hmm?”

“Slutty, I- you- ah! There, there!” You scream out when he hits that spot with his tip, dragging on it inside your walls, and you’re pouring so much wetness you can hear it, as the gentle slap slap slap of his pelvis on your ass hits, as his balls are smacking your little ass hole, and his white hair is grinding on your clit when he bottoms out, you’re soaking his veiny length, dripping onto his fancy covers.

“That’s it, baby, s’good. Taking this dick like it’s made for you.” He huffs, fucking you harder now, faster, making you shudder as he slips his hand between you both, pressing a thumb against your clit, making you cum so hard all you see is stars, glittery fucking darkness.

Is this what you’ve been missing!?

“L-love you…. L-love - ah!” You’re brokenly confessing as he lifts a thigh, pressing it high, yanking your hips down more on his length, fucking you harder and harder with every thrust.

“You’re m-mine now, baby. All - f-fuck- mine, to fuck whenever I want, however I want. Got me baby?” He whispers, losing it over you, you’re so perfect, so wet, so pretty under him, he’s imagining every position he wants you in, every place he wants to fuck you in, how he wants to cum in your perfect little cunt, fill you. “Answer me baby, answer me.”

His voice is whiny, pleading, you’re barely able to take a breath or function, damn near falling off the earth, clinging to his perfect skin for any stability, as he starts to pound mercilessly into your pussy. Sweat drips down his nose onto one of your breasts, which he squishes with his hand, pinching your nipple and twisting as he fucks so hard it hurts.

“Too much, too much.” You manage, and he smiles now, that cocky Satoru you’ve known your whole life, leaning down and rolling his hips just so, grinding that leaky tip against your cervix, pushing you to cum again, this time you’re drooling, mouth wide open.

“Aw you’re s’cute like this… look at you. Drooling. Dumb fucked out look.” You can’t even be mad, you want him to keep going, so you whine, nodding just a bit, earning his grin. “And you like it, being so slutty just for me. Only me.”

“Y-you.” Is all you manage, but it’s enough to send him over the fucking edge, pressing your thighs up high, smushing your breasts, now he’s so deep you feel him everywhere, your stomach, your entire body, he’s moaning as he watches your tummy bulge between your thighs.

“Feel me, everywhere, fucking up your guts… huh?” You just weakly nod, whining as you’re so embarrassingly wet, you hear every slutty sound of his cock wrecking you. “Made f’me, s-say it again.”

“Made for ah- y-you! Satoru!” He’s groaning, leaning his heavy weight on you, pelvis smacking hard as he stuffs you so full, too fucking full, and now he’s cupping your face, insane swirling blue eyes drinking you in.

“Anyone fill you yet, baby?” You shake your head, and he grins even more psychotically. ��Good, Imma fill you up, gonna be d-dripping me for days.”

“C-cum in me, cum in me. D-do it, please.” You beg, you don’t fucking care, you want it, you need it. His hips stutter, mouth dropped open as his cock thrusts harder and harder in your now sloppy pussy, so wet and needy she’s sucking him up.

“Cum in you? F-fill you baby?” He’s so sweet now, a psychotic contradiction that you don’t think you’ll ever get enough of. “Put a baby in you?”

“Baby!? I… fuck it… yes! Put one in me, please.” You’re pathetic for him, and he relishes in it, starting to thicken, as your cunt milks him.

“Gonna breed you, f-fuck you feel so- ah - gonna breed your pussy, every fucking day, got me? Say yes baby.”

“Y-yes, please…” He whimpers then, Satoru Gojo, all star, prom king, the strongest man you know, whimpers as he begins to cum inside you so deep, coating your walls with his hot white ropes. You cum just from that, clinging to him, he slams his lips on yours over and over in messy kisses.

“Never felt this, oh my god… your pussy what the… yes baby take it all… f-fuck please…” He’s whining as he pushes his cum deeper inside you, stuffing you so full, still pressing you up, folding you. You’re sobbing now, overwhelmed, pussy so sore but she’s milking him more, even as he’s dripping down his cock and your ass, mixed with your glistening cum.

He’s exhaling now, easing your thighs down, kissing you deeply, over and over, you’re clinging to him, trembling legs so sore, still full of him. He leans up and takes a deep breath, looking at you with those endless blue eyes, eyes that you adore, that face you adore. You get choked up now, tears falling, tears that he gently wipes, like he wasn’t just pounding your cunt.

He’s looking at how beautiful you are under him, the girl he’s loved for as long as he’s even known, tears glittering pretty on your cheeks. “You’re pretty crying, y’know that?”

“Sadistic ass. That’s why you threw the snowballs.” He smiles down at you, so handsome your heart aches.

“You’re mine now. Mine forever.” His words should be crazy, but as you look at the little charm glittering in the night, cupping his face, his words aren’t crazy at all.

“I want to be yours forever. Satoru, I have for so long. I’ve been so scared when you leave…”

“You’re coming with me. Yeah? Basketball wife?” He says with a grin, and you nod then, through your tears, through your smile, a myriad of emotions.

When he’s cleaned you up, and it’s slowly falling snow outside, Satoru has you in his lap once more, his Santa hat on, as you sip cocoa. “Are there more stories I need to know about, Santa Toru?” You ask teasingly, lapping a little whipped cream from your steaming hot mug.

“There is the time I saw you in the girls locker room.”

You glare. “What now!?”

“On accident!”

“Oh this better be good.” You snatch his cocoa up with a scowl.

“Don’t take my cocoa baby, you’ll get on the naughty list.” He says with a glare, and you’re glaring right back.

“Oh, I’m so scared Santa!” He bends you over the chair now, slipping his hand up under the dress shirt of his you’re wearing, with nothing else. You gasp when his hand smacks your ass cheek, making you jolt, desire pooling in your tummy all over again, when he leans forward over you.

“Merry Christmas. It’s midnight.” He says, you peek at that watch, as he smacks your other ass cheek, and you’re moaning, head falling back. “Looks like you’re not gonna be able to sit for Christmas dinner.”

And that was the final time Satoru tried to tell you his feelings, and this time it worked, and you felt the same the entire time <3

I hope you all enjoyed the cuteness and idiots in love, it was a request for a 5+1 that FLEW off the handle. Ty for readingggg

Gen Masterlist here

[va1entinesg4l]

one too many bites

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

summary: After launching his new ice cream, Charles had another flavour that was made just for you.

warning: smut!! aphrodisiac, p in v, breeding kink

A few days ago, Charles had officially launched his new ice cream brand ‘Lec’ with five different flavours. Hosting a party as well for his guests. But obviously before they got to try his ice cream, you did. His girlfriend always came first and to your surprise, Vanillove was your favourite.

You were back home from work, feeling stressed out when you notice an ice cream tub sitting on the table. Red? Charles never launched this. You furrowed your eyebrows as you called out for him, “Charles?” Suddenly you felt a pair of arms wrapped around your waist as the sound of the french accent rings through your ear. “Good evening, mon ange.”

His chest pressed against your back as he kisses the back of your neck, making you giggle quietly.

“What is that?” You gesture to the ice cream on the table and he replied with a grin, “Just a gift for my beautiful girlfriend.” You knew Charles liked spoiling you with gifts, no matter what it was.

You held the tub of ice cream up as you say in confusion, “It’s red. You never launched this.”

“That’s because i didn’t. It’s a treat just for you and i to share, mon coeur.”

“Love Potion. Really?” A giggle escaped your looks as you read out the name he gave the ice cream and he just gave you a sly smile. If only you knew.

Both of you share bites of the ice cream together, the first bite was blissful, it tasted like raspberry with a hint of vanilla, bits of chocolate inside that you seemed to enjoy. Charles was glancing at you every now and then as if he was searching for a reaction.

And with each bite you took, you felt your mind fluttering. You placed the spoon down and so did Charles when he notices the aphrodisiac starting to kick in.

“You okay, y/n?” He knew damn well what he was doing, seeing how he started rubbing your thigh slowly to tease you.

You mumbled incoherently before you ask, “What’s in the ice cream?”

“Just raspberries and choc-“

“I know but..” You trail off, your gaze staring at Charles’s lips, you felt heat starting to grow inside of you. You didn’t know what was happening but all you thought about was how you wanted Charles to bend you over and fuck you. For him to cum inside of you. And before you knew it, you moved on top of Charles, your lips on his as you start to kiss him.

He grips your ass as he rolls his hips against yours and you could feel his cock beneath his jeans. Your fingers move to his hair, running through them as you bit down on his lip hard, making him groan.

It’s been months without sex since you were both so busy with work. Every time when Charles had persuaded you for sex, you would start pushing him away with excuses like ‘I have work to get done.’ or ‘I have a meeting.’ He needed to get you distracted, away from work.

Never would he ever thought the recipe would work. A recipe he found online that could increase your sex drive, arousing you in just 10 minutes. He definitely owed his team a lot.

He then lifted you up from the couch to the table, laying you down before moving down to kiss your breasts, sucking on one of your nipples.

“More, Charles.”

The single word sent blood running to his cock and without a second, he slides his jeans down, lining his cock to your pussy before sliding in.

You let out a shaky breath at the sensation before he starts thrusting his hips against yours. The table shaking with each thrust.

Your fingers dug into his biceps when you felt his cock deeper and deeper inside of you, his hand pressed down onto your stomach as he felt himself inside of you.

“Feel that, mon ange? Feel how deep i’m inside of you?”

You nod with a whimper. You wanted him to fill you up with his cum, you wanted to see it drip down your leg as you walk. “I wanna feel you cum inside of me, Charles. Knock me up with a child.”

Charles groans at your words, cumming inside of you. You let out a cry and you arched your back, his load filling you up. His body falls on top of yours as he catches his breath. He kisses your sweaty cheek, his cock still buried inside of you. With you in his arms, you fell asleep right away from the ice cream that Charles had made for you.

He chuckled softly as you pass out in his arms, seeing how soft and angelic you were while sleeping and he looks at the tub of ice cream which was left on the coffee table by the both of you, his smile widening.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

[kykyonthemoon]

The spaces between my fingers are right where yours fit perfectly

When comparing hands, you realize how tiny you are to him.

ಇ. Character x Female Reader/MC

(Included parts in order: Caleb, Xavier, Rafayel, Zayne)

ಇ. Tags: fluff, domestic fluff, established relationship, comforting and healing, size gap, long-distance relationship (for Caleb's part)

ಇ. Word count: 3k2

ಇ. Requested anonymously

ಇ. The title of this fic is a lyric from Owl City's song - Vanilla Twilight.

ಇ. Masterlist

ಇ. Request

𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒃

Since childhood, you had always loved holding Caleb's hand.

You adored putting your small hand in his palm. To feel such warmth. His hands were usually larger than yours. At first, there was not much difference between the hands of two children. But as you got older, the gap widened. You began to notice this and frequently inclined him to compare hands.

“Hey Caleb, give me your hand.”

"What for?"

“Just do what I said, and give me your hand.”

Caleb was thrilled, waiting for you to place a piece of candy or anything intriguing in his hand, which had just expanded to its full size. Then he got upset when he felt the touch of your hand instead.

"What are you doing?"

"Hmmph." You pouted. "Still not as big."

You put your hand on Caleb's, measuring front, back, left and right. He eventually lost patience and said:

“Why are you measuring my hand?”

“Because I want my hands to be as big as yours. Only with such big hands can you hold so many gifts and pies from Grandma..."

Your face was extremely serious as you spoke, but it made Caleb roll around in the grass, laughing until his stomach hurt.

“Why are you laughing at me?!” You felt a little offended. You struck Caleb hard on the arm. It was painful.

"Ouch!" He yelled, then got up to face you. His hair still had grass in it. "Listen up, pipsqueak. Your hand will never be bigger than mine."

"Why?"

“Because I will always be taller than you, bigger than you. I must be taller to protect you and Grandma! My hands must be bigger to always hold yours!”

Having said that, Caleb curled his fingers around your palm. You grinned naively, believing that such large hands were ideal for doing all of the chores or lifting heavy objects for you.

One time, while learning to cook with Grandma, Caleb burned his hand. He tolerated pain very well and did not whine. On the contrary, it was you who frantically ran to find ointment to apply to him. You were crying:

“Caleb, you have to be careful! You have to take care of these hands... If something happens to them, who will do the housework for me?..."

Caleb laughed. He used his other hand to pat your head. “What are you worried about, pipsqueak? I will always protect you. Who did I start learning how to cook for?"

You sobbed. Honestly, you felt so terrible every time Caleb got hurt.

Time seemed to fly by. You both were growing up. The space between the two hands also extended. At one point, suddenly, just comparing hands with him turned your cheeks red.

But these days, you did not get to do that often anymore. Caleb went to the academy so far away, and then his long missions left him with few opportunities to visit home. In his free time, you could only chat with him online. You really missed the feeling of his large hands shielding yours. You said:

“Caleb. Give me your hand.”

On the laptop screen, he burst out laughing. “What now? Even though I'm so far away, you still want to measure my hand?"

“Just do what I said.”

Caleb shook his head in defeat. He brought his hand close to the camera and spread out five slim fingers. His hands were thin and smooth, but after being accepted into the academy, you could feel the roughness or new calluses there. You smiled, raised your hand to the screen and pressed it against his.

“Looking from this angle, my hand is bigger than yours!”

“Wow, pipsqueak has grown bigger and stronger than me!”

Oh, how much you missed him! You were about to burst into tears and tell him to come home to you right that moment. It had been a long time since his last return. You longed to hold his hand.

But you wouldn't make Caleb worry if he had to embark on a mission away from home. You tried to show him your brightest smile. And you whispered:

“Yeah. You've always taken care of me since I was little. Now it's my turn to be stronger to take care of you."

Caleb knew you so well, because you were always the thing in the palm of his hand he cherished most in the world. He was silent for a long moment, then gently said:

“Pipsqueak, don't be sad. I'll come home to you next weekend, okay? Make sure you eat plenty. If I return home and notice that your hands have thinned even just a little bit, I will be very displeased!"

𝑿𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒆𝒓

The first time you met him, he left an impression on you with his large and steady hand.

You found Xavier on a mission. Since he did not move, you came closer and gently shook him. Then his large hand gripped your wrist securely. You were astonished by the sudden vigor with which you were seized. To be honest, you were afraid at the moment.

The second time you met him, his big hand protected you once more and took you out of danger. That hand placed around your waist, not squeezing hard to the point you became uneasy, but it was a gentle touch, as if he was frightened you might vanish if he held you too closely. Perhaps from that moment on, you felt the warmth and safety of being in his arms. And all your walls eventually collapsed, embracing the way he entwined his soul with your own.

Then you became used to holding his hand as you walked together. When you had to maneuver through a congested area, he would gently squeeze your fingers, as if to remind you to pay more attention to him. And as you two went along a quiet street or sat on the subway with his head resting on your shoulder, he tenderly rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb. A gentle gesture, just enough to let everyone know that this girl was his.

His knuckles were hardened from sword practice. His skin was also consistently dry. He was clueless about how to take care of himself. So you began to learn about lotions for nourishing hands.You always carried a tube with you. On one occasion, you took it out and applied it to Xavier's hand.

"What's this?" He inquired.

“Hand cream.” You murmured this as you massaged the soft white cream into Xavier's obediently outstretched hands. “Your skin is so dry. I bought this for you to use.”

He did not answer, just stared intently at you taking care of him. When the thin layer of cream was absorbed, he turned his hands over and observed with a blank expression.

You giggled, then held out a hand in front of his face and said:

“Put your hand here.”

Xavier displayed confusion before placing his hand on yours and softly hitting the palm.

"High-five?" He inquired, continuing to appear perplexed.

"No." You answered, grasping Xavier's wrist to keep his hand close to yours. "I want to see how large your hands are. Hmmm…"

Xavier's hand was a little bigger than yours. You loved these hands. They constantly offered you a sense of security. On any endeavor, you could put your life in his hands without any hesitation. In daily life, you would always reach for his hand whenever you went out, or when your free hand wanted to feel his warmth. The only thing you never dared trust in these hands was, perhaps, cooking.

Xavier smiled. His hands felt significantly smoother after applying the cream, and they retained a very subtle flowery aroma. He laced his fingers with yours, then leaned down and placed a kiss on your hand.

“My hands smell like yours now.”

"Of course." You replied while blushing. “It's the same type of hand cream.”

Xavier did not respond. You caught him pondering for a long time. The next day, you found him applying the entire tube of cream on his hands.

"Oh dear! What are you doing? There's no need to apply that much!”

You quickly went to get a towel to help him clean up. He sat on the sofa, looking rather bewildered while you asked him:

“Are you going to use up the entire tube like that?”

Xavier responded: “Yeah… Since… This morning when I woke up, I couldn't smell your cream anymore. I want to use it all so the fragrance lasts longer.”

You rolled my eyes at Xavier, and a few seconds later you fell down laughing on the sofa. "Oh my! You did it in vain. These things don't last long."

“Is that so…” Disappointment was evident on Xavier's face. Seeing that, you sat close and tangled your hand with his. You said:

“If you like this scent, I will buy more for you.”

“What I like is your scent.” Xavier replied. His thumb caressed your hand. “I like the scent of your hair, your clothes, your hands… Everything that belongs to you…”

You were surprised, and delighted. Your face was more radiant than the sun outside the window. His hand felt so large and warm. If you could, you would never want to let  go.

You squeezed his hand once. Fingers pressed closely together. You progressed from being terrified of this foreign hand to when it became familiar, and now inseparable. It was weird, since despite only knowing him for a short time, it felt like you had loved him your whole life.

Leaning your head on his shoulder, you whispered:

“Xavier, don't ever let go of my hand, okay?”

"Never."

𝑹𝒂𝒇𝒂𝒚𝒆𝒍

You preferred to visit Rafayel's studio more frequently these days. Of course, compared to staying in a small apartment alone, coming here to work with him, drenched in sunlight and sea breeze, surrounded by flowers and grass, was definitely a much more sensible choice.

But the main reason remained Rafayel. You enjoyed watching him in silence, as he concentrated on painting. His long fingers wrapped around the brush, perfect as if he was the work of art. You had undoubtedly noticed Rafayel's hands since the first time you met, when he demonstrated his incredible fishing talents. He was adept at wielding a racket and far more skilled at holding a brush. The hues of the mythical world depicted in the painting gradually revealed itself under his magical hands. He did not always use a brush, instead dipping his hands in the paint, and as his fingers started dancing on the white canvas, you believed you saw a rainbow even though it was not sunny that day.

You loved how Rafayel rotated the brush in his palm while contemplating before getting started with painting. You loved the way his fingers held the chopsticks and  transformed the food into a culinary movie. You liked the way he wrapped his long finger in your hair to play with it. It seemed that everything he did with his hands was perfect, and unreal.

“Rafayel. Can you raise your hand?” You asked him that out of nowhere one afternoon at the studio. He was focused on an art book, so he did not respond and simply executed what you asked.

You extended your hand, intending to press it against his. Yet he raised his hand a bit higher. You grimaced and lifted your palm high. He did that again, and again, until his arm was stretched to its full length, and so was yours. The only thing was, since yours was shorter, you could not reach his palm.

“Rafayel!” You shouted fiercely. He closed the book he was reading and flung it on the sofa. On his face was a triumphant smile.

"What? Can't reach it?"

With an irritated expression, you rose up and seized his hand. Fingers intertwined, perfect as if he and you were made for each other. You used a great force to push Rafayel down into the sofa, while your other hand maintained your body weight by positioning it near his neck.

The smile on Rafayel's face disappeared. The scarlet hue of a ripe tomato gradually crept across his statue-like face and reached his ears. Rafayel seemed displeased.

“Are you bullying me?”

“Who bullied who first?” You argued back.

Noticing that Rafayel had begun to move beneath you, his hand entwined with yours now yearning to escape, you held him even tighter. His hands were slender and cool, velvety like a baby's skin. The veins were barely visible underneath the thin skin. The fingers were extremely lengthy; they belonged to an artist rather than a warrior like you. Even his nails were tidy, pink, and well-filed. Looking back at your hand in his, it was dry and small, with short fingers and nails that were neglected due to a lack of time, you were unable to avoid feeling envious.

“Hey, if you want to hold my hand, just say it.” Rafayel gazed at you furiously. “Is it necessary to pin me down like this?”

“I don't want to hold your hand. I just want to compare it with mine.”

Rafayel scoffed. He replied: “Comparing hands, why? We all know for a fact that I have the most gorgeous hands in the world.”

Seeing how he started praising himself, I sat up bored, intending not to joke with him again. But Rafayel refused to let go of your hand. The other curled around your waist, clutching you hard.

"Where are you going? We haven't finished talking yet, have we? If you like my hands so much, how about I give them to you?”

"Huh?" You were a bit startled. In your mind a scenario of receiving a huge gift box. When you opened it, you discovered Rafayel's severed and bloody hands inside...

Rafayel squeezed your face, as if he knew you were thinking nonsense.

“Whatever you're thinking, with that expression, I'm sure it's not what I want. Follow me.”

Rafayel led you into the warehouse, he pulled out some plaster powder and a few necessary tools. Later that day, there was a new piece in Rafayel's studio, yet not a painting. It was a statue of a small hand tangled with a larger one. A precise duplicate of yours and Rafayel's.

“Come to think of it,” he said as he looked at the final work with you. “My hands are most beautiful when intertwined with yours.”

𝒁𝒂𝒚𝒏𝒆

Doctor Zayne's hands were often cold.

You still remembered learning to knit with Grandma and making gloves for Zayne when you lived close. Unfortunately, you did not get a chance to present them to him yet. You kept them in your old box at home till this day.

At the time, his hands were already significantly larger than yours. They were chilly since his Evol was occasionally unrestrained. In situations like that, he would put his hands in his pockets, look down, and leave fast. Even though you chased him down to ask him questions, he declined to speak, much alone show you his hands.

At the time, there was no scar on his hands.

Presently, when you put on his large gloves, you noticed how enormous his hands were. Your hand was buried beneath a thick layer of wool, only taking up about half of the glove's space. You rolled your eyes.

“Doctor Zayne, look!” You raised your gloved hand for him to see. The wool glove's fingertips had extra room and swung to the rhythm as you waved them. Obviously, the glove was excessively big for you.

“Stop playing around.” Doctor Zayne replied. He took the other glove and put it on your other hand. “Put this on.”

“It's too big. I feel like I'm a monster with gigantic hands!”

You laughed. Zayne grabbed your hands and hoisted them up. He inhaled to keep them warm and responded: "Because someone has lost her gloves on the way here, she must accept her fate of becoming a monster."

Zayne chuckled, but his serious expression made you question if he was fooling or condemning you for being irresponsible. He and you were on holiday in the snow-covered mountains. How silly of you to have misplaced your gloves and not remembered where you had put them. Hence he had to let you temporarily borrow his.

Even after you bought a new pair, you preferred the feeling of putting your hands in Zayne's gloves. Especially when they still felt his warmth lingering inside.

Zayne's hands were always so big, they were twice the size of yours. Your body shape was average, but when you stood next to him, you appeared strangely tiny. He could easily lift you up. He could hold both of your hands together with only one of his. And he could hold all five snow seals lined up side by side in one hand at your request.

His hands were covered with scars. When you inquired about their history, he just made up an explanation that he washed his hands too thoroughly. He saw you as a three-year-old child. Of course you did not believe it at all, but would not ask more until he was comfortable enough to share his story with you. You adored tracing the scars and veins that bulged beneath his skin. Sometimes, he felt ticklish. Other times, he would tell you to stop messing around while he was working. But he never truly pushed your tiny hand aside.

There were times when his hands became very cold. Extremely cold. As his habit, he buried them in his layers of garments without letting you know. He would not dare touch you since he was frightened you would catch that cold. Yet in moments like that, all you ever wanted was to hold him close.

You removed his hands from his coat pockets. They felt as frigid as ice when you touched them. Doctor Zayne frowned. He wanted to withdraw his hands but you clutched them hard. Your little, trembling fingers curled around and cherished those cold hands. You offered them your warm breath.

“Let go of them. You will be cold.” Zayne expressed worry. But you shook your head.

“Just wait a little longer and we'll both warm up.”

“I will… hurt you…”

That was what terrified Zayne. What if he lost control and accidentally hurt you? He would never be able to forgive himself if that happened. There had been many times he had avoided or hidden from you, but in the end, you were always the one who ran to his side when he needed you the most.

Eventually, he gave in. He relaxed his hands in your palms. He rested his head on your forehead, his eyes softly closing. In you there was always the warmth that he yearned.

After a while, Zayne warmed up. You were not cold anymore. Between the hands was an immeasurable warmth that both he and you desired to cherish forever.

That winter, you gave him a pair of new gloves with snowmen on that you had knitted. They clasped securely around Zayne's fingers, a reminder that no matter what, you would never let go of his hands.

[leejenowrld]

‘love me back’ — four

pairing — mark lee x reader

word count — 33.3k words 

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

synopsis — a tense confrontation exposes your secret relationship with mark, sending ripples of tension through your lives. whispers spread quickly, straining your friendships and mark’s relationships with his friends. despite this, you and mark grow closer, your relationship deepening to more intimate levels. but one moment of misunderstanding—one miscommunication—is enough to make it all begin to unravel.

chapter contents/warnings — college au, small town vibes, 2000s teen show vibes, this fic is heavily based on one tree, explicit language, explicit sexual content, explicit themes, wall sex, rough sex, gripping, biting, and physically forceful actions public/party setting with a risk of being overheard or caught, y/n uses sex as a coping method, really soft sex, vanilla sex, emotional intimacy, soft giggles, soft breathing, hand holding, eye contact, confessions, intense party scenes, intense fights, y/n + mark go on campus together, they choose to go public, soft loving moments, mark takes y/n to river court, wholesome moments, tension between mark and his best friend, themes of guilt, betrayal, and emotional tensions, tense basketball practice as always

[fic ml]

ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR | FIVE | SIX | SEVEN

The pounding bass from the party music muffled the sounds of your heavy breathing and desperate moans as Mark held you firmly against the wall. His body pressed into yours, his cock driving deep inside you with unrelenting precision. Your back arched as you clawed at his shoulders, his hands gripping your hips tightly enough to bruise.

“Fuck, baby,” Mark groaned against your neck, his lips trailing open-mouthed kisses over your skin, biting and licking between gasps. His breath was hot, his words strained as he buried himself deeper. “You feel so fucking good. So tight for me.”

Your walls clenched around him, the sensation drawing a guttural moan from his throat that made your thighs tremble. You could barely think, your focus consumed by the way his cock stretched you perfectly, each thrust hitting that spot that made you cry out. The coolness of the wall contrasted with the heat radiating from your bodies, adding another layer of sensation to the raw, frantic pleasure coursing through you both.

Mark’s lips found yours, kissing you with a fiery intensity that left you breathless, his tongue sliding against yours as his hips snapped harder, faster. “Don’t stop,” you whimpered into his mouth, your voice trembling as you dug your nails into his back. The tension building inside you was overwhelming, and you could feel the knot in your stomach tightening with every powerful thrust.

But then, the sharp ping of your phone pierced through the haze of pleasure. For a fleeting moment, you ignored it, letting yourself get lost in the rhythm of Mark’s deep, relentless thrusts. His hand slid down to your ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh with a possessive grip that sent a jolt straight to your core. He groaned low against your ear as you ground back against him, meeting every thrust with a desperation that matched his own. The curve of your ass fit perfectly in his hand, his grip tightening as if he couldn’t get enough of you. His lips trailed from your mouth to your jawline, then back to your neck, leaving a path of open-mouthed kisses and bruising bites.

Another ping, and your eyes fluttered open. The sound pierced through the bubble of bliss you were in, dragging you back to reality. You tried to lean towards your bag on the floor, your hand outstretched, but Mark caught your wrist mid-reach, pinning it back against the wall.

“Don’t check it, baby,” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear before kissing you softly. “Stay with me. Let me make you feel good.” His voice was soothing, almost pleading, and for a moment, you let yourself give in, nodding as you wrapped your legs tighter around his waist.

His thrusts became deeper, slower, as if to recapture your full attention. You felt every inch of him filling you, dragging against your walls in a way that had your toes curling. Your hands slid into his hair, pulling him back to kiss you, desperate to drown out the distraction. His groans mixed with your soft cries, the friction between you both unbearably delicious as the pressure inside you built again.

But the phone kept going off. Ping after ping. Each sound sent a chill down your spine, your anxiety creeping in despite the heat of Mark’s body against yours. Something felt off—a gut feeling you couldn’t shake.

“Mark, wait,” you finally whispered, your voice shaky. You pushed lightly against his chest, trying to break free even as your body screamed at you to stay. His brows furrowed, his thrusts slowing but not stopping as he studied your face.

“What is it?” he asked softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. His hands stayed firm on your hips, grounding you. “You’re shaking. Baby, talk to me.”

You hesitated, biting your lip, before motioning toward your bag. “I just… I need to check my phone. Something’s wrong.”

His jaw tensed as he exhaled heavily, stepping back just enough to let you slip down from the wall. You winced at the emptiness as he pulled out, your legs wobbling as you bent down to grab your phone. Mark’s hands were on your waist, steadying you, but you barely noticed as your eyes scanned the screen.

Your heart dropped as you saw the flood of notifications—messages, missed calls and alerts have piled up on your phone. A cold dread seeped into your chest, replacing the warmth you’d felt moments ago. You covered your mouth with trembling hands, your chest tightening as you took in the flood of messages from Karina. Each one was a brick in the wall of a panic building inside you.

Your breathing grew shallow, your heart hammering against your ribs. The reality of what you were reading seeped in slowly but painfully, like ice spreading through your veins. The room now felt suffocating. You couldn���t focus on him, couldn’t feel the way his soft lips caressed against your skin, his body pressed close to yours. All you could feel was the weight of the words on your screen.

“What’s wrong?” Mark’s voice was soft, his tone tender, but you couldn’t meet his eyes. He kissed your temple softly, his hands never leaving your body. His presence was steadying, but the panic bubbling in your chest was threatening to take over. “Talk to me.” He whispers, hands cupping your face, trying to ground you. 

You forced the words out, your voice breaking. “Karina—she… she’s flooded my phone with messages.” You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to breathe. “She told Jeno. She let it slip that we’re… that we’re exclusive.”

Mark froze, his jaw tightening slightly, but his concern stayed focused on you. “Jeno knows?”

You nodded frantically, the tears pooling in your eyes threatening to spill over. “He knows everything,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

Mark’s lips pressed together, but he didn’t look angry—just steady. His hands slid to your waist, holding you in place, his touch gentle but firm as if trying to anchor you. “Okay,” he murmured, his voice calm despite the storm brewing inside you. “It’s fine. I’ll handle it. Just stay here. I’ll go talk to him.”

“No,” you said quickly, grabbing his arm. Your eyes darted to the door, imagining the scene waiting just outside. Your panic spiked at the thought. “I should deal with this,” you whispered, leaning up to kiss him softly, your lips trembling against his. “I’ll come right back to you.”

Mark hesitated, his brow furrowing as he searched your face. “They’re all gonna be standing out there. I can’t let you deal with that by yourself, I won’t.”

His protectiveness made your heart ache, but you forced a small smile, pressing another soft kiss to his lips. “Please, Mark. For me.” Your voice was low, almost pleading, and you saw the way his resolve cracked—his weakness was always doing anything to make you happy, no matter the cost.

He exhaled heavily, his hands tightening briefly on your hips before letting go. “You’ll come back?” he asked, his voice quieter now, the worry etched clearly in his expression.

“I will,” you promised, your voice faltering as you stepped back.

The door clicks shut behind you, and the muffled bass of the party is almost drowned out by the blood pounding in your ears. The guilt weighed heavy on your shoulders as you stepped into the chaos. Each step felt like a betrayal—to Mark, to yourself, to the fragile world you’d both built in secret. Your chest tightened further, shame and anxiety warring within you as you braced yourself for the confrontation waiting just ahead.

Each step you take feels heavier, but you push forward, scanning the sea of blurred faces in search of Jeno. It doesn’t take long—he’s already heading toward the room you left, his broad shoulders cutting through the crowd, partygoers stumbling out of his way.

Jeno’s steps are purposeful, his jaw set and his fists clenched at his sides. His usually warm brown eyes are dark with rage and betrayal, his expression like a storm about to break. It feels like everything slows down when his gaze locks onto yours, confusion flickering across his features for just a moment before it hardens into something colder.

“Y/N,” he says, his voice unnervingly calm. Too calm. “We need to talk. Now.”

You swallow hard, your throat dry. Glancing briefly at Karina, who’s hovering nearby with a guilty expression, and Mark’s best friend, who looks like she’s bracing for a bomb to go off, you nod. “Okay,” you manage, your voice barely above a whisper.

You lead Jeno away from the chaos, down a quieter hallway, your heart pounding with every step. Karina follows for a moment, her steps hesitant, but you whirl around and glare at her. The anger in your eyes makes her freeze.

“What the hell, Karina?” you hiss, your voice low but venomous. 

“I didn’t mean to—” Karina starts, her voice desperate, trembling with guilt. She looks at you with wide, pleading eyes, her hands wringing nervously. “I swear, Y/N, it just slipped out. I didn’t think he’d—”

Her words falter as your gaze sharpens, cutting through her excuses. Without a word, you turn fully to Jeno, ignoring her completely. Karina clamps her mouth shut, realizing the futility of her pleas. Shoulders slumped, she walks away, her steps heavy with shame.

“I trusted you,” Jeno begins, his tone measured but heavy. “I told my dad he was lying. I defended you, Y/N. I believed you when you said nothing was going on with Mark.” His voice rises slightly, his composure cracking. “And now I find out you’ve been fucking him behind my back?”

Your face flushes hot with shame. “Jeno, it’s not like that—”

“Then explain it to me!” he snaps, stepping closer. “Make me understand why you lied to me. Why did you let me look like a fool for trusting you?”

You’re panicking, your mind racing for something, anything, that will diffuse the situation. The words spill out before you can think better of them. “It’s just sex, Jeno,” you say quickly. “It’s nothing serious.”

His eyes narrow, and for a moment, he just stares at you like he’s trying to figure out if you’re lying. “Just sex?” he repeats, his voice dripping with disbelief.

“Yes,” you say, nodding frantically, the lie tasting bitter on your tongue. “We’re not exclusive. Mark’s seeing other girls, and I’m—” You cut yourself off, realizing how ridiculous it sounds even as the words leave your mouth. “It’s casual,” you add weakly.

Jeno scoffs, his lips curling into a bitter smile. “Ahhh, makes sense then,” he says mockingly. “Because, you know, a lot of girls are talking about wanting to fuck Mark.”

Jeno steps closer, his presence looming as his eyes search your face. “So you’re sure it’s just sex?” he asks, his voice sharper this time, pressing you like a blade against the wall. “You’re not lying to me again?”

Your throat tightens, the weight of his stare unbearable. You can barely meet his eyes as you nod slowly, weakly, the lie slipping out before you can stop yourself. “Yeah,” you whisper, the word catching in your throat. “It’s just sex.”

Jeno’s jaw tightens as he exhales sharply through his nose, taking everything in, his frustration is barely contained. “You know what really gets to me?” he says, his voice cutting through the tense air. “It’s not even the fact that you’re with Mark. Hell, yeah, I’d be pissed if you told me it was serious, but this?” He shakes his head, his tone growing colder. “It’s the lying. Over and over again. Making me look like an idiot for trusting you, for defending you against my dad.”

The words hit you like a slap, sharp and unrelenting. You flinch, the guilt crashing over you in suffocating waves. Your chest tightens, and you open your mouth to respond, to say something, anything to fix this, but Jeno’s head shakes slowly, his calm veneer slipping. His jaw clenches, and his hands ball into fists at his sides, trembling with restrained fury.

Your lips part, but no words come. The weight of your guilt keeps your voice locked in your throat, and all you can do is stand there, frozen, as Jeno stares at you like he doesn’t even recognize the person in front of him anymore.

Without waiting for your response, he turns on his heel and stalks back toward the party, leaving you standing there, guilt and shame choking you like a noose. Your legs feel weak, and you lean against the wall, your head spinning.

The air feels heavy around you, suffocating, as if the weight of your lies to Jeno is pressing on your chest. You stay rooted in place for a moment, your thoughts spinning out of control. Regret mixes with guilt and a hollow ache, your mind replaying his words over and over.

Karina approaches you hesitantly, her hand reaching for your arm. Her face is soft with remorse, her lips parting to say something, but the moment her fingers brush against your skin, you shrug her off. “Just… don’t,” you whisper, your voice trembling with exhaustion. You don’t wait for her response. Whatever she has to say, it won’t make this any better.

You don’t look back. Instead, you turn and walk away, leaving Jeno behind in the shadows of the quieter corner you’d taken him to. Your chest tightens, your pace quickening as a single thought pulses through your mind: Mark. You need him—his comfort, his touch, the way he makes the world feel smaller, safer. Your guilt feels like a raging storm, and he’s the only calm within it.

As you weave through the crowd, your steps falter for a moment when you pass Karina again. She calls out your name, her voice pleading, but you don’t stop. You don’t even glance at her, keeping your gaze straight ahead. The music pounds in your ears, and the noise of the party blurs into a dull hum as your focus sharpens on one goal—getting back to Mark.

Your guilt gnaws at you, whispering that you don’t deserve his comfort. You told Jeno another lie. You left Karina without so much as an acknowledgement. Yet none of it matters when you think of Mark’s arms around you, his warmth, his reassurance. The idea of his touch ignites a desperate craving in you, a visceral need to feel grounded again.

You find him exactly where you left him, his back leaning against the wall. His dark eyes light up the moment he sees you, his brow furrowing slightly as he takes in your expression. He’s always been able to read you too well. Before you can say anything, he’s already moving toward you.

“Baby,” Mark murmurs, his voice soft and laced with concern. His hands find your waist, pulling you close. “What happened?”

You don’t answer, your throat tightening as the chaos in your mind roars louder. Instead, you bury your face in his chest, your arms wrapping tightly around him. His scent surrounds you—familiar and comforting—and you feel his hand move to the back of your head, his fingers threading gently through your hair.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your temple. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

His words are like a balm to your frayed nerves, and you let out a shaky exhale, leaning into him even more. His hand moves to your hair, his fingers threading through it gently as if he knows exactly what you need to calm down. He presses a tender kiss to your forehead, his touch light yet firm, anchoring you in a way nothing else can.

You don’t know how long you stand there, clinging to him like he’s the only thing keeping you afloat. The noise of the party fades into the background, the rest of the world ceasing to exist in the bubble of safety Mark creates around you. His hands never stop moving, never stop soothing, and you feel your heartbeat slowly returning to a steadier rhythm.

When he finally tilts your chin up to look at him, his dark eyes are filled with nothing but patience and understanding. “You don’t have to talk about it now,” he says softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “But whatever it is, we’ll figure it out together. I’m not going anywhere.”

You nod weakly, your throat still tight with emotion. He leans down and presses his lips to yours, the kiss soft and lingering. It’s not rushed or frantic, but slow and consuming, the kind of kiss that speaks of comfort and reassurance. When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“I’m here,” he whispers again, his voice steady and unwavering. “Always.”

You don’t have the strength to say anything back, so you just hold him tighter, hoping he feels the gratitude and longing in the way you press yourself against him. For now, being in his arms is enough. For now, you can let him hold you together even as the storm continues to rage inside you.

After a long moment, you pull back slightly, your eyes darting away as you muster the words. “I managed to calm him down,” you say, your voice softer than you intended. “It should be okay now.”

Mark leans back slightly, searching your face for a beat. “He’s calm?” His tone carries a hint of disbelief. “Just like that?” 

You nod quickly, too quickly. “Yeah,” you reply, avoiding his gaze. “I told him it’s nothing to worry about, and he seemed… fine.”

Mark’s brows knit together as he tilts his head, studying you. “Nothing to worry about?” he echoes, the confusion evident in his voice. “That doesn’t sound like Jeno.”

You force a small smile, gripping his arm to redirect his attention. “It’s over now, Mark. Let’s not ruin the night talking about it anymore.”

Mark hesitates, the furrow in his brow deepening, but he eventually nods, brushing his thumb against your cheek. “Alright,” he says softly, though the faint edge of uncertainty lingers in his tone.

What he doesn’t know—and what you desperately try to suppress—is that you told Jeno it wasn’t serious with Mark. That it was just sex. That Mark was seeing other people, and so were you. The words had spilled out so quickly, a desperate attempt to deflect the weight of Jeno’s betrayal, to calm his anger, to keep the storm at bay just a little longer. But it was all a lie. A cruel, selfish lie that not only diminished what you and Mark had, but betrayed him in a way he’d never expect from you.

And now, standing here in Mark’s arms, the guilt gnaws at you relentlessly. It feels like a sharp claw digging into your chest, scraping against your ribs with every passing second. Your stomach twists painfully as the reality of what you’ve done presses down on you. You lied to Jeno to protect yourself, but in doing so, you betrayed Mark. And you didn’t stop there. You lied to him, too, letting him believe that everything with Jeno was resolved without telling him how you did it—or the price of that lie.

The guilt is suffocating, a heavy weight settling in your chest, stealing your breath. It clouds your thoughts, turns your skin cold, and makes your limbs feel heavy, as if you’re sinking into quicksand. The sting of your betrayal is sharp, because you know Mark would never do the same to you. He trusts you, and yet here you are, taking advantage of that trust.

You cling to him harder, burying your face in his shoulder as if that could shield you from the truth of your own actions. You try to focus on the way his arms feel around you, the warmth of his body, the steadiness of his heartbeat. But even that comfort is tainted, because you know he wouldn’t be holding you so tenderly if he knew what you’d done.

Mark whispers soothing words into your hair, his fingers threading through it gently, but they only make the guilt worse. The weight of the lie grows heavier, coiling tighter around your chest, a constant reminder of the storm you’ve set in motion.

What you don’t realize is that this fragile calm, built on the weight of your lies, is merely the prelude to a storm far greater than you can imagine.

The door clicks shut behind you as you step into the hallway, the noise of the party surges around you like a wave, jolting you back to reality. You move quickly, separating from Mark as agreed, your heart pounding—not from the music, but from the remnants of his touch and the lingering heat between your thighs.

The party is in full swing, the pounding bass reverberating through the walls, vibrating the floor beneath your heels. The air is thick with the heady mix of sweat, alcohol, and a haze of smoke curling lazily toward the ceiling. Laughter and chatter surround you, bodies swaying in rhythm with the music, but it all feels distant. Detached.

It becomes clear to you that word has been going around that you and Mark are seeing each other. A few people have already approached you, their faces curious and probing, asking pointed questions. You’ve muttered blunt and uninterested responses, trying to downplay the situation, but each interaction leaves your skin crawling and your mind racing. The tension between wanting to protect what you have with Mark and not wanting to be exposed weighs heavily with each passing second.

You keep your head down as you navigate through the crowd, the pulse of the music syncing with your own frantic heartbeat. Mark had disappeared into the opposite direction, as planned, and you could feel the phantom weight of his hands on your hips, his breath against your skin. It takes everything in you to keep your expression neutral, to blend into the partygoers lost in their own worlds, oblivious to the tension simmering just below the surface for you.

The room feels stifling, the lights dim and flickering, casting shadows that seem to dance with your anxiety. Your throat is dry, your hands clammy as snippets of conversation float past you. Names are exchanged in passing, jokes about who’s hooking up with whom, the usual party gossip that you’re suddenly terrified might include you and Mark.

You make your way toward the kitchen, hoping for a moment to compose yourself. The smell of spilled liquor and faint cigarette smoke assaults your senses, grounding you in the present, but it’s not enough to shake the gnawing feeling in your chest. Your mind replays images of him over and over again: his hands gripping your hips, the way his lips brushed against your neck, the sounds he drew from you. You shouldn’t feel this exposed, but you do.

Oblivious faces pass you by, and for a fleeting moment, you wonder if anyone suspects. If anyone knows. You glance over your shoulder instinctively, searching for him, but Mark’s nowhere to be seen—at least, not yet. You know he’s lingering nearby, waiting for the right moment to rejoin the chaos without drawing attention.

A hand brushes your arm, and you flinch slightly before realizing it’s just someone stumbling past with a drink in hand, laughing too loudly at a joke you didn’t hear. The world around you feels sharp and muted all at once, and the only thing grounding you is the faint memory of Mark’s whispered reassurances still echoing in your head.

It’s been two hours since you and Mark agreed to keep your distance, and somehow, you’ve managed to follow through. Barely. Your eyes keep darting around the room, searching for his figure even though you know you shouldn’t. The ache of missing him has settled low in your stomach, and the memory of his touch lingers like a phantom, teasing and relentless.

You glance around and notice people starting to head home. It’s late—really late. The crowd has thinned, and the air feels less suffocating. For the first time in what feels like hours, no one’s looking at you suspiciously, no whispered questions about you and Mark linger in the air. It feels safer, quieter. You let out a slow breath, thinking this might finally be the moment.

Grabbing your phone, your pulse quickens as you type out a message.

you — i need you. now. upstairs bathroom, second door on the left.

mark — fuck, baby, you sure you don’t wanna just go to my car? easier to get away with.

you — i promise we’ll be okay. jeno’s house is massive. no one goes to that side.

A soft smile tugs at your lips despite the nerves coursing through you. Your heart races at the thought of seeing him again. You glance around one last time, ensuring no one’s paying attention, before slipping through the crowd. The pull toward him is magnetic, impossible to resist.

Having been to Jeno’s house more times than you can count, you know the way by heart, even in the chaos of the sprawling mansion. The upstairs bathroom is tucked away in a quiet corner, and as you reach the door, your hands tremble slightly with anticipation. You slip inside, closing the door softly behind you, and wait. The minutes feel like hours, the quiet amplifying the heat bubbling under your skin.

When you finally see Mark’s figure rounding the corner, relief and excitement flood through you. It had taken him several minutes after you arrived, and you knew it was for the best—if anyone had seen the two of you slipping into the bathroom together, they’d immediately suspect the worst, and all eyes would’ve been on you. Without hesitation, you pull him by the arm into the bathroom, shutting the door firmly with a sharp click of the lock.

Before either of you can speak, your lips find each other, crashing together in a desperate, heated kiss. The door bangs shut behind you, but neither of you flinch, too consumed by the feverish need building between you. Your hands grip his shoulders as his arms snake around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

“Finally,” Mark mutters against your lips, his voice thick with impatience. His dark eyes lock onto yours, his fingers pressing firmly into your hips. “This place is like a fucking maze.”

You giggle softly against his lips, the sound muffled as his mouth moves with heated intent down your jawline, leaving a trail of scorching kisses that make your skin tingle. Your head tilts back instinctively, giving him more access as his hands slide up to cradle your face, his grip firm yet tender.

“You found me,” you whisper breathlessly, your voice catching as his teeth graze your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

“After getting lost a hundred times, yeah I did,” he teases, his voice low and playful, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. The humor in his tone makes you giggle against his mouth, the sound melting into the space between you.

His hands roam over your body, gripping and pulling, and the frustration of those two hours apart is evident in every movement. “Missed you,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice low and rough as his teeth graze the sensitive spot beneath your ear. “Missed you so fucking much.”

You shiver at his words, barely able to respond before he turns you around, pressing your front against the cool bathroom sink. His hands slide up your thighs, gripping the hem of your skirt and yanking it up around your waist. “No more waiting,” he growls, pulling your panties aside. You feel the hard press of his cock against you, and your breath catches as he positions himself.

Mark pushes into you with one swift, fluid motion, and the stretch has your mouth falling open in a silent gasp. The thickness of him fills you completely, a delicious ache building as your walls tighten around him. His low, guttural moan vibrates against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice rough and strained, as if holding himself back takes everything he has. The sound of your wetness is obscene, mingling with your shaky breaths and the quiet whimper that escapes your lips as he bottoms out, his hips pressed flush against yours. 

“You take me so well, baby,” he murmurs, his hands gripping your waist possessively, his thumbs digging into your skin. “So tight. So perfect for me.” Your legs tremble, a moan spilling from you despite your attempt to stay quiet, and his low chuckle vibrates against your neck. “Can’t stay quiet, can you?” he teases, pulling back slightly before driving into you again, the sharp slap of his hips making you cry out.

Mark’s hands grip your hips tightly, his nails digging into your skin as he thrusts into you from behind. Your palms press against the cold bathroom sink for support, your breaths coming out in broken gasps that barely keep up with the rhythm he’s setting. The music from the party pounds against the walls, but it does little to drown out the sound of your moans and the wet slap of his hips against you.

“Fuck, baby,” Mark growls, his voice thick with need as he leans over you, his chest pressing against your back. His lips find the curve of your neck, kissing and biting, muffling his own groans as he loses himself in the heat of you. “You feel so fucking good.”

Your response is nothing more than a whimper, your head dropping forward as he pushes into you deeper, harder. The angle sends a shockwave through your body, and your knees threaten to buckle, but his grip on you keeps you steady.

“God, you’re so loud,” he teases, his words ragged against your ear. “You’re gonna get us caught.”

You bite your lip, trying to stifle the next moan, but it’s futile. The desperation in his movements, the way he’s taking you like he can’t stand to be apart from you, pushes you to the brink. Your moans only grow louder, your body trembling as his pace becomes rougher, more frantic.

But outside the bathroom door, someone is listening.

Jeno leans casually against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched Mark slip inside the bathroom earlier. He saw Mark go in alone and he believes that it’s just another girl meeting him there. His lips curve into a smug grin, his chest puffing with misplaced pride at his brother's growing reputation.

Internally, Jeno marvels at how things have shifted. Damn, Mark’s really making a name for himself, he muses. Two different girls in one night? Impressive as hell. He’s smug, thinking about how Mark— his brother, is thriving, winning both on and off the court. He’s not sure when it happened, when Mark shifted from someone he hated to someone he genuinely cares about, but he doesn’t fight it. Their relationship has come a long way, and for once, Jeno feels content with where they stand.

“That guy can’t go ten minutes without pulling someone,” Jaemin chuckles nearby, elbowing Jeno. “Man’s got it good tonight. Two girls in one night.” Jaemin references you and the girl he believes to be in there, nobody knows it’s you. 

“Yeah, no kidding,” Jeno replies with a laugh, shaking his head as he waits, fully expecting to tease Mark once he comes out.

“Guess all the cheerleaders want a piece of him now, huh?” Soobin adds, grinning as the others laugh.

Jeno smirks to himself as he leans against the wall outside the bathroom, his knuckles rapping lightly on the door. He isn’t sure if he’s doing it to wind Mark up or because he’s debating barging in—maybe both. Chenle’s voice cuts through the moment, teasing and light. “Yo, Mark, you good in there? Taking your sweet time, man,” he calls out, his tone teasing.

Inside the bathroom, Mark stiffens slightly at the knock but doesn’t falter. He doesn’t know that it’s Jeno and the guys on the basketball team on the other side of the door. The chatter from the party outside create a blur of indistinct noise, masking voices. Mark assumes it’s just another drunk partygoer trying to get in, too caught up in you to give it a second thought.

You, lost in the haze of your own desperation and need, don’t even register the knock or Chenle’s voice. Mark’s cock stretches you perfectly, each thrust making your body arch into him. The tension in the air between you is intoxicating, leaving no room for outside distractions. Every ounce of your focus is on the way Mark fills you, his rough groans in your ear, and the way his hands grip your waist as if he can’t let go.

The knock on the door persists, louder and more impatient this time, cutting through the haze of the moment. Mark barely glances toward it, his focus unwavering. “One minute,” Mark shouts in response, his voice rough and breathless. His tone gives nothing away, but his movements don’t falter. He keeps going, his pace relentless, too caught up in the moment to care about anything outside this bathroom.

Jeno exchanges glances with the guys from the team lingering nearby, all of them snickering and making quiet remarks about Mark’s prowess. Jaemin mutters something about how Mark never misses, earning a laugh from the group. Jeno nods in agreement, his chest swelling with a strange pride. Brotherhood. The thought amuses him. They’ve come a long way, and moments like this feel like they’re finally on the same page.

But then the moans inside grow louder, more frequent, and something shifts in Jeno’s expression. His smirk fades slightly as a sense of unease creeps in. He leans closer to the door, straining to hear. Another moan echoes, higher-pitched, almost desperate—and far too familiar. Jeno’s jaw tightens. Is it you? The thought is maddening, the possibility clawing at him. He tries to brush it off, to convince himself it’s not you in there. But deep down, the sinking feeling grows, refusing to be ignored.

Jeno’s stomach tightens, his fists clenching instinctively. No way. It can’t be… He shakes the thought away, trying to convince himself it’s just another girl. Mark’s seeing other people, right? That’s what you told him. The logic steadies him, but not for long.

Jeno leans closer to the door, his breath catching as he tries to make sense of what he’s hearing. At first, it’s just muffled groans and the occasional moan, but then Mark’s voice cuts through, rough and possessive. “You’re all mine,” Mark growls, his tone dripping with intensity. “This pussy—fuck—it’s mine. Always so tight for me, baby.”

Jeno’s eyebrows furrow, his smug smirk faltering as confusion begins to creep in. He glances around at the other guys still joking nearby, their laughter and teasing comments fading into background noise. His focus is razor-sharp now, every nerve on edge.

Then, he hears it—your voice. Breathless and high-pitched, crying out, “Daddy!” The word pierces through the haze, and Jeno freezes. His heart pounds in his chest as his mind races. No. No fucking way. He doesn’t want to believe it, but the sound is unmistakable. He knows your voice, knows the way it pitches when you’re about to cum. 

Inside, Mark groans again, louder this time, and his next words are like a hammer blow. “You’re my girl… no one else gets to have you like this. No one else ever will. You’re mine, baby. All mine.”

That doesn’t sound fucking non-exclusive to me, Jeno thinks, disbelief twisting into anger as the words loop in his head, sharper and louder with each repetition. His fists clench at his sides, nails digging into his palms as he tries to process the weight of it all. You fucking lied to him. Again. The betrayal sits heavy in his chest, simmering and threatening to boil over.

Each possessive word Mark utters from behind the door chips away at his denial, solidifying the truth. Mark? With you? His thoughts spiral, flashing back to your earlier conversation—your insistence that you and Mark were seeing other people, that it wasn’t serious. The memory feels like a slap in the face now, the sting of your lie more painful than he’d expected.

He takes a step back from the door, his mind a whirlwind of confusion, rage, and betrayal. The way Mark spoke to you—raw, possessive, intimate—contradicted everything you had told him. The reality of it burns, each word replaying in his head as he struggles to make sense of how the two of you could have been hiding this all along.

You and Mark? The thought twists his stomach. How the hell did this happen?

The air in the bathroom is thick with heat and tension, every sound amplified by the closeness of your bodies. Mark’s hands grip your waist tightly, his fingertips pressing into your skin with a possessiveness that makes your breath hitch. His lips hover by your ear, brushing against it as he whispers, his voice a husky caress. “Mine,” he murmurs, the words dripping with a mix of tenderness and hunger. “Always mine.” He kisses the shell of your ear, his breath hot and tantalising as he coos softly, “You feel so good. You’re perfect for me.” Each word sends shivers down your spine, his touch and voice grounding you in the moment, making you forget everything but him.

Then the door bursts open.

It’s not until the booming voice of Jeno fills the space that the moment truly shatters. His voice is loud enough to rival the pounding bass of the party. “What the fuck is this?!”

The sound crashes through the room like a gunshot, so abrupt and jarring that you jump, your entire body tensing. Mark’s movements halt instantly, his breathing faltering against your neck as his grip on your waist tightens protectively. Both of you freeze, wide-eyed, as your heads whip toward the doorway.

Jeno stands there, his chest heaving, his fists clenched at his sides, and his face twisted in a fury so raw and unfamiliar it sends a chill down your spine. The weight of his presence is suffocating, the sheer intensity in his gaze cutting through the heat and leaving only cold dread in its wake.

The heat drains from your face as shame and panic take its place. You scramble to pull your skirt down, your hands trembling as you try to smooth yourself out. Mark steps in front of you instinctively, his body taut, his jaw clenched as his gaze locks with Jeno’s. His voice is firm but cautious. “Jeno—”

“Don’t,” Jeno snaps, his voice sharp enough to cut through the tension. His gaze burns into you now, cold and unforgiving, before flicking back to Mark. The silence that follows is suffocating, Jeno’s fists clenching so tightly his knuckles turn white.

“Jeno, just—please let me explain,” you begin, your voice shaky as you step forward, but he silences you with a look so chilling it makes you falter.

His voice drops, quiet but deadly. “You don’t need to explain. It’s all pretty fucking clear.”

You can see the realization sinking in for him, the pieces falling into place with a terrifying clarity. His nostrils flare sharply, his chest rising and falling in quick, uneven breaths as though he’s fighting to keep himself from exploding. His jaw clenches so tightly it looks like it might snap, and the veins in his neck strain against his skin. His fists are balled at his sides, knuckles white, trembling ever so slightly, and the sharp intensity in his gaze makes it hard to meet his eyes without a shiver of unease crawling down your spine. 

Its anger barely contained, simmering just below the surface, threatening to spill over at any second. When he finally speaks, his voice is rough, cutting like a knife. “You lied to me. Again and again. Do you even know how to tell the truth, Y/N?”

Tears prick at your eyes, but you force yourself to hold his gaze. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Jeno. I was just trying to avoid—this. This exact situation.”

His laugh is bitter, sharp. “This exact situation? You mean me finding out you’re fucking my brother behind my back?” His gaze darts to Mark, then back to you, and it’s as if the realisation hits him again, harder this time. “You had every chance to be honest with me. I trusted you. I defended you to my dad—do you even get that? He told me this was happening, and I said he was lying. That you wouldn’t do this to me.”

You open your mouth, but no words come out. What could you possibly say?

Jeno shakes his head, his voice breaking slightly. “I’m just so confused about what I heard in here. You two didn’t exactly sound like you’re fucking other people or keeping it casual.”

Mark’s head snaps toward you at Jeno’s words, confusion flickering across his face before realisation sets in. That’s why you told him you managed to calm Jeno down—you lied to him about your exclusivity. His brows draw together, and a flash of hurt ghosts over his features, quickly replaced by a tense stillness. He doesn’t say anything, but the silence is deafening. The subtle clench of his jaw, the tightening of his shoulders, the way his eyes search yours for an explanation—all of it weighs heavy, making your stomach churn with guilt.

“It’s not what you think—” you start, but Jeno cuts you off with a harsh laugh.

“Not what I think?” he repeats, his voice rising. “Mark’s in there saying you’re his girl, acting like you’re his fucking everything. So tell me, Y/N, what the hell is it, then?”

Mark finally speaks, his tone low but steady. “Jeno, I don’t think this is the time—”

“No,” Jeno snaps, his gaze narrowing at his brother. “I think it’s exactly the time. Because she made me believe this was nothing. She made me believe you two were nothing.” He turns back to you, his anger giving way to something deeper—betrayal. “Was it easier for you? Lying to both of us? Was it easier to just pretend it didn’t mean anything?”

Mark looks at you then, his eyes softening despite the obvious hurt lingering there. He doesn’t say anything, but the weight of his stare makes your throat tighten. He knows you—knows why you lied, understands that your intentions weren’t malicious, that you were just trying to diffuse the situation. But that doesn’t make it hurt him any less. And that realisation is almost worse than Jeno’s anger.

The silence stretches, the tension crackling like a live wire between the three of you. You feel trapped, your chest heavy with guilt as you try to think of something—anything—to diffuse the situation again. But the truth is, there’s nothing left to say.

Jeno’s anger isn’t just about you and Mark—it’s a culmination of everything he’s been bottling up for weeks, months even. The weight of his father’s expectations, the constant pressure to excel in basketball, the results he’s supposed to deliver and the relentless scrutiny from Sunwoo and Eric. It all comes crashing down at this moment. 

But what makes it worse, what makes it personal, is that he chose to trust you over his dad. He defended you when Taeyong accused you and Mark of sneaking around, dismissing it as another instance of his father meddling in his life. And now, the realisation that his dad was right all along, that you let him down, feels like a betrayal he can’t ignore. It’s not just about Mark; it’s about the cracks in everything Jeno thought he could rely on, and right now, you’re at the centre of it.

Jeno rounds on you suddenly, his eyes blazing. “When did it start?” he demands, his voice low but sharp enough to cut. “Tell me, Y/N. When the fuck did you and Mark start seeing each other?”

You swallow hard, your throat dry, your heart racing. The words stick in your throat, guilt twisting in your chest like a knife. “The night we broke up,” you admit softly, your voice barely audible. The confession hangs in the air like a thunderclap, and Jeno cackles—cruel and sharp. The sound cuts through the tense air like a blade

“The same night we broke up? Is that when it happened? You hooked up with him that fast?” His words sting, each one designed to deepen the guilt that’s already suffocating you.

You lower your gaze, unable to meet his piercing eyes, your hands shaking as you clutch the hem of your skirt. The shame feels like a physical weight pressing down on you. “I didn’t mean—” you try, but the words feel hollow, insufficient.

“Didn’t mean what? To fuck my brother?” Jeno hisses, his tone sharp and laced with bitterness. “You really didn’t waste any time, did you?” He scoffs, his anger boiling over into something cruel. “What, are you just a slut now? Jumping from one brother to the next?”

The word lands like a slap, and your breath catches in your throat. He doesn’t mean it; you hope he doesn’t. But it still cuts deeper than anything else he’s said.

At first, Mark stays close, his jaw tight but his posture calm, watching the argument unfold without interfering. He doesn’t want to speak for you, respecting your ability to handle the situation, even though tension ripples through him with every sharp word from Jeno. But when Jeno’s anger boils over, his voice cutting harshly as he calls you a slut, Mark’s calm exterior cracks. He’s momentarily caught off-guard by the sheer intensity of Jeno’s words. His voice slices through the tension before you can respond. “Jeno, that’s enough.”

Jeno’s head snaps toward Mark, his glare darkening as if his anger has only grown. “You don’t get to tell me what’s enough,” he spits, his tone venomous. “This is between me and her.”

Mark doesn’t rise to the bait, his expression steady but firm. “You’re angry, and I get that. But don’t talk to her like that. You’ll regret it later,” he says, his voice measured but with a distinct edge of protectiveness.

Jeno scoffs, his fists clenching tighter. “Oh, I’ll regret it? How about you regret fucking my ex behind my back? How about that?” His voice rises, drawing more attention from the growing crowd.

Mark’s jaw tightens, and he steps forward, placing himself subtly between you and Jeno. “We’re happy, Jeno. And we’re serious about each other. We are exclusive,” he says firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The declaration seems to be the breaking point for Jeno. His eyes darken, his anger bubbling over as he steps closer to Mark. “You’re proud of that, huh?” he growls, and before anyone can react, his fist flies forward, landing squarely on Mark’s jaw.

That’s when you notice a large group of people that’s formed around the three of you. A collective gasp ripples through the crowd. Some people shout, others pull out their phones, the scene unfolding like a movie in real time. You rush forward, your hands trembling as you reach for Mark, but he doesn’t budge. His jaw is tight, and he stares at Jeno with a calm intensity, even as a faint bruise begins to form on his cheek.

“Mark, please,” you whisper, trying to tug him away, but he shakes his head slightly, his eyes never leaving Jeno’s.

“I’m not going to fight you, Jeno,” Mark says evenly, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. “But you don’t get to call her names. You don’t get to treat her like this.”

Jeno glares at him, his chest heaving, his fists still clenched. “You think you’re better than me? You think you’re some fucking saint?” he sneers.

Mark steps closer, his voice lowering but losing none of its strength. “This isn’t about being better. It’s about respecting her. I get you’re angry but don’t take it out on her. Don’t make this worse than it already is.”

The confrontation is electric, the air charged with unresolved tension and emotions too volatile to name. Around you, people whisper and gawk, their eyes darting between Mark and Jeno, waiting to see who will make the next move. You can feel the weight of their stares, the judgement pressing down on you, but your focus is solely on the two men in front of you, both hurting in different ways because of you.

The tension in the room spikes as Jeno’s fist connects with Mark’s jaw again, the sickening thud drawing gasps from the crowd. Mark stumbles back slightly, his jaw tightening as he lifts a hand to wipe the corner of his mouth. He sighs deeply, his fists clenching at his sides as he straightened himself.

“Okay,” Mark starts, his voice steady but simmering with controlled anger. “Maybe I deserved that. I get why you’re mad.” He takes a deep breath, glancing at you briefly before his gaze sharpens on Jeno. “Actually, no. I didn’t deserve that.” His tone hardens. “You have no right to tell me who I can and can’t fall for. I don’t care if she’s your ex, and I don’t care if we got together the night you broke up with her, you were the one who left her all alone that night. Not me.” 

The room grows quieter, the weight of Mark’s words cutting through the murmurs. Jeno’s jaw clenches, his eyes narrowing dangerously, but Mark doesn’t back down.

“It’s not like your relationship was healthy,” Mark presses, his voice rising slightly. “So don’t call her a slut and act all surprised she moved on so fast. She deserved better. She deserves to be treated the way I treat her. Take notes, Jeno, because what we have? It’s real. It’s not just a fling.”

Jeno’s eyes darken, his hands balling into fists as the crowd watches in stunned silence. Your heart pounds, the suffocating weight of all the attention making your knees feel weak. All eyes are on you, the judgment and whispers carving into your skin like knives. You feel like you’re drowning, desperate to shift the focus elsewhere, anywhere but on you.

And then Jeno’s voice slices through the tension like a blade. “And I fucking felt guilty about seeing your best friend behind your back, while all this time you’ve been fucking my ex behind my back, keeping it a fucking secret.”

The silence that follows Jeno’s words is suffocating, a deafening kind of quiet where everyone holds their breath, waiting for the inevitable fallout. His eyes burn with anger, his chest heaving as if the weight of his confession is both a release and a punishment. You know why he says it—why he chooses this moment to lash out, even though it places him in the exact position as you, betraying those close to him and going behind their backs. It’s desperation, an attempt to justify his own actions by leveling the playing field. He’s cornered, humiliated, and furious, and this is his way of clawing back some semblance of control.

Your own reaction is quieter, more internal. You knew this moment would come, knew Mark would find out eventually, but the way it’s unfolding—so public, so raw—makes your chest tighten with guilt and fear. You can’t stop glancing at him, reading every twitch of his jaw, every flicker of emotion in his eyes. You want to speak, to explain, but the words catch in your throat. All you can do is stand there, rooted to the spot, as the crowd drinks in the drama unfolding before them.

The crowd’s reaction is a mix of shock and barely concealed excitement. Gasps ripple through the group, followed by low murmurs and exchanged glances. The buzz of whispers spreads like wildfire. It’s the kind of spectacle people live for, a front-row seat to chaos. Mark’s best friend, who had been hanging back, looks like she’s been slapped. Her face flushes red, a mix of anger and embarrassment flickering across her features. She’s trying to disappear into the background, but the weight of the accusation makes that impossible. She stares at Jeno, then at Mark, her mouth opening as if to say something, but no words come out. The betrayal she feels is written all over her face, her shoulders hunched as if shielding herself from the collective judgment of the crowd.

Mark’s reaction is what scares you the most. It’s immediate but layered. His brows knit together in confusion at first, processing the weight of Jeno’s words. Slowly, his expression shifts—his jaw tightening, the veins in his neck becoming more pronounced. His chest heaves, his mouth parts slightly, and for a terrifying moment, he’s silent. His eyes, usually warm and soft when they’re on you, turn dark and stormy as they flick to Jeno’s best friend, who stands frozen, guilt etched into her face. She mutters an apology, shaking her head frantically as if trying to plead with Mark to calm down.

You’ve seen Mark annoyed, even angry, but this feels different—deeper, colder. And you’re worried. Worried about what he’ll say, what he’ll do. You can see the gears turning in his mind, each revelation adding another layer of hurt and betrayal.

But it’s too late.

Without warning, Jeno’s fist flies again, landing hard against Mark’s cheek. This time, Mark doesn’t hesitate. He punches back, his fist slamming into Jeno’s jaw with a force that sends him stumbling. The crowd erupts in a mix of gasps and shouts, some people pulling out their phones again to record the chaos.

Mark steps back, his breathing ragged as he turns to you, his lip bleeding but his eyes softening momentarily as he reaches for your hand. But before he can pull you away, Jeno lunges at him, shoving him to the floor. The two of them crash to the ground, grappling and throwing punches with a rough, unrelenting intensity.

Mark grits his teeth as Jeno’s weight pins him momentarily to the ground. He throws a sharp elbow into Jeno’s side, using the momentum to shove him off, but Jeno retaliates quickly, swinging another punch that glances off Mark’s jaw. The sound of skin meeting skin is sickening, each hit fueled by frustration and betrayal. Mark counters with a rough shove, sending Jeno stumbling back, only for Jeno to lunge forward again, grabbing Mark by the collar and dragging him to his feet.

They’re both seething, their movements chaotic and unrelenting. Jeno lands a solid punch to Mark’s ribs, making him double over briefly, but Mark recovers fast, tackling Jeno into a nearby table. Glass shatters as cups and bottles spill onto the floor, and the crowd around them recoils, a mix of gasps and murmurs filling the room. Mark swings again, his fist connecting with Jeno’s shoulder, but Jeno grabs his wrist, twisting it away and shoving him back with enough force to send him skidding across the floor.

“Stop it!” you shout, your voice cracking as you step forward, but neither of them listens. Your heart clenches as you watch them fight, torn between defending your relationship with Mark and the remnants of your friendship with Jeno. Words fail you, the weight of the situation is too much to bear.

Jaemin and Chenle push through the crowd, their faces pale as they rush to break up the fight. “Enough!” Jaemin yells, grabbing Jeno by the shoulders and pulling him back, while Chenle grabs Mark and drags him to his feet. Both men are breathing heavily, their faces flushed with anger and bruises already beginning to form.

Mark’s eyes flick to you as you step forward, your hands trembling as you cup his face gently, your touch grounding him. “Let’s go,” you whisper, your voice steady despite the storm raging inside you. He nods, his jaw still tight as he takes your hand, ignoring the blood dripping from his split lip.

Together, you leave the party, the chaos fading behind you as you step into the cool night air. Mark’s grip on your hand is firm, protective, and you cling to him like he’s the only thing keeping you standing.

───────────────────────────────

The drive back to your apartment was suffocating in its silence, the hum of the car engine the only sound filling the space between you and Mark. Even as he parked, neither of you moved for a moment, both too caught up in the weight of the night. It wasn’t until he muttered a soft, “I’ll stay the night,” that you both finally stepped out, the tension following you like a shadow.

Inside, the low hum of candles flickered against the walls, their warm light casting soft, dancing shadows. The apartment felt quieter than usual, almost too still, the kind of silence that made every small sound feel amplified. Mark sat on the edge of your bed, his shirt discarded beside him, revealing the fresh bruises already forming on his torso. His lip was split, and a faint scrape ran along his cheekbone.

You moved toward him with the first aid kit, your chest tightening at the sight. You hated this—hated seeing him hurt, hated that it was always for you. Wordlessly, you dipped a cotton pad in wound alcohol, your hands trembling slightly as you knelt in front of him.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, your voice breaking the silence like a fragile thread snapping. “You’re always getting into fights for me, getting hurt because of me.”

Mark’s gaze softened, his eyes steady on you as you dabbed the alcohol-soaked pad gently against the cut on his cheek. He hissed at the sting, his jaw clenching, and you immediately pulled back.

“I’m sorry,” you said again, your voice quieter this time, guilt lacing every syllable.

Mark shook his head, offering you a small, reassuring smile even as his hands found their way to your waist, grounding you. “Don’t be,” he murmured, his voice steady despite the tension in the room. “I’ll always protect you. Always defend you. That’s not gonna change.”

His words should have been comforting, but instead, they felt like a dagger twisting in your chest. Every wince from him, every bruise you touched, felt like a punch to your gut, a reminder of the chaos you brought into his life.

How does he still look at you like that? you wonder, your eyes flickering to his face as his hands rest on your waist. Like you’re worth all this? After everything you’ve done—after lying to him, to Jeno, to yourself. You don’t deserve this.

“You’re too good to me,” you whispered, almost to yourself, as you moved to dab at the cut on his lip. He flinched, and your heart sank even further. “I hate seeing you hurt,” you admitted, barely holding back the tears threatening to spill. “I was so scared during the fight. Watching you get hit—it…”

Mark’s thumb brushes gently over your neck, grounding you in the moment. He leans in closer, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, his lips lingering before he whispers, “Hey.” His voice is tender, steady, pulling you from the spiral of your thoughts. “I’m fine,” he murmurs softly, the reassurance in his tone making your breath hitch and your chest tighten with emotion.

Time stretched on after that. The room was quiet again, but this time, the silence felt heavier. Awkward. It never felt like this between you two. Even in your worst moments, Mark always managed to make you feel like everything would be okay. But now, the charged atmosphere pressed down on both of you, suffocating and unrelenting.

The revelation at the party hangs in the air like a storm cloud, filling the silence between you and Mark with unspoken tension. Of course, the campus now knowing about you two explains part of it, but deep down, you know this runs deeper. This tension isn’t just external—it’s something personal between the two of you.

You sit on the edge of your bed, fiddling with your hands as he leans against the wall, his arms crossed and his expression unreadable. The low hum of a candle flickers on your nightstand, casting faint shadows across his face. You finally muster the courage to ask what’s been clawing at your chest since he brought you home.

“Mark,” you whisper, your voice trailing off so softly he almost doesn’t catch it. “Are you angry at me?”

He looks up, his expression flickering with something you can’t quite place. Then, he chuckles—a quiet sound that wasn’t meant to make you feel small, but it does. “I’m not angry,” he says, though his tone holds a subtle edge. “I just don’t understand why you lied to Jeno and said we weren’t exclusive.”

Your bottom lip trembles as you scramble to explain, unease clawing at your throat. “I only said that because I thought it would make him less suspicious of us. I didn’t want any drama or arguing, but I know I made things worse. I shouldn’t have lied.” A tear slides down your cheek, and you quickly brush it away, ashamed of your own actions.

He’s quicker, though, his thumb gently wiping the tear from your cheek. “I know why you lied,” he says, his voice softer now, though there’s still tension beneath it. “I just wish you’d thought about it first. Being exclusive with you means a lot to me, so it stings that you didn’t admit that to Jeno. I understand why you didn’t, but I’m still allowed to be hurt and confused by it.”

Your throat tightens, the weight of his words settling over you. “Being exclusive with you means a lot to me too,” you say, your voice cracking with sincerity.

Mark studies you for a long moment, his jaw tightening and loosening as if warring with his emotions. He looks somewhere between understanding and actually annoyed, a thin line that feels far too precarious.

“If you didn’t want to tell him we’re exclusive,” he says finally, his voice calm but pointed, “what does that mean for us? Is it because you didn’t want him to know we’re serious and risk his reaction? Or…” His gaze locks with yours, something vulnerable flickering in his eyes. “Do you not take being exclusive with me seriously?”

Your heart sinks, and the tears come faster now, the floodgates bursting. “I was scared, okay?” you admit, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “Scared of what Jeno would do, scared of losing you if things got worse. I panicked, and now I’ve made everything worse.”

Mark steps closer, his hands finding your waist as he kneels in front of you. “Hey,” he murmurs, his voice gentler now, though there’s still a lingering hurt in his tone. “You didn’t lose me, okay? But you’ve got to stop letting fear make your choices for you. We’ll get through this, but only if we’re honest—with each other and with everyone else.”

You nod through your tears, leaning into his touch as the weight of the night finally catches up to you both. The tension doesn’t dissolve completely, but for now, his steady presence keeps you grounded.

Mark sighs, pulling you down with him onto your bed, his arm wrapping firmly around your waist as he tugs you under the covers. The weight of his gaze feels almost overwhelming, his eyes locking with yours in a way that makes your knees weak even as you lie beside him. There’s something so intense yet comforting about the way he looks at you—like he’s memorizing every detail of your face, like he’s anchoring himself in you despite everything that’s happened tonight.

The silence between you stretches, thick and heavy, until you break it by tracing the sharp line of his jaw with your fingertips. Your touch is light, almost tentative, as you follow the curve of his cheekbone, brushing your thumb softly over the corner of his lips. A faint smile tugs at his mouth as he catches your hand, holding it in his gently. “You’re just gonna stare at my lips?” he teases, his voice low but warm.

A quiet laugh escapes you, and you feel some of the tension ease. “They’re nice to stare at,” you murmur, your voice shy but honest.

His smirk deepens, but his expression softens as he shifts slightly, moving on top of you. The weight of him presses you into the mattress, and you gulp, your arms instinctively circling his back to pull him closer. Your eyes flicker to his lips again, the longing to kiss him tugging at you, but hesitation holds you back. Does he even want that right now?

Before you can overthink it, he leans down, cutting off your thoughts with the press of his lips to yours. The kiss starts soft, tentative, but it quickly deepens, turning feverish and consuming. His lips move against yours with a quiet desperation, and soft sighs and steady breaths fill the space between you, every second pulling you further into him.

When you finally pull back, your voice is soft and a little breathless as you whisper, “You’re still kissing me?”

He tilts his head slightly, his brow furrowing as if the question confuses him. “Why would I not?” His voice is steady, his words making your heart ache in the best way.

You lean up to kiss him again, melting into his lips. This time, when he pulls back, it’s his turn to speak. “I guess I’d be more annoyed if you lied about knowing about Jeno and my best friend and tried to act like you never knew,” he says after a moment of thought, his voice low but sincere.

A soft hum escapes you as you nestle closer to him. “I’m glad I didn’t go with that decision”

He huffs lightly, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. “Were you gonna?”

You shake your head, your fingers slipping into his hair, playing with the soft strands. “No. I don’t want to lie to you. I don’t want any tension between us. You’re too important to me now, and I can’t lose you—not after I’ve let you see so much of me.”

His lips brush against you forehead, the kiss featherlight but full of meaning. “You’re not gonna lose me,” he murmurs, his voice low but steady. “You’re the most important person to me right now too.” His brow furrows slightly, and he sighs. “I’m still mad at you, though. And I don’t know how the fuck we’re gonna face Jeno after today. But it’s okay. We’ll do it together, hm?”

You nod weakly, your chest tightening at his words. He presses one last kiss to your lips before leaning back slightly. “Go to sleep, baby. We’ve got a big day ahead of us.” Without another word, you nestle into his arms, your head resting against his chest as his steady heartbeat lulls you to sleep.

───────────────────────────────

You groan as you reach for your alarm clock, shutting off the incessant beeping. Rolling over, you bury yourself deeper into Mark’s chest, his warmth enveloping you like a shield from the world outside. His scent—a mix of his cologne and the faint remnants of your body wash—grounds you, soothing your frayed nerves. “I don’t wanna go to campus today,” you mumble against his bare skin, your voice muffled and tinged with reluctance.

Mark’s hand moves up your back slowly, his touch light but firm, tracing lazy patterns with his fingertips. “Why not?” he asks, his voice still rough from sleep, the vibrations of his words rumbling softly against your cheek.

You let out a sigh, your shoulders sagging. “Everyone’s been messaging me. Everyone’s gonna stare at us,” you admit, anxiety coiling tightly in your stomach. The thought of all those eyes, the whispers, the judgment—it’s too much.

Mark tilts your chin up gently, his gaze steady and unwavering as his thumb brushes over your jaw. “We haven’t done anything wrong,” he says softly, his words a quiet reassurance. Leaning down, he presses a tender kiss to your temple, lingering there as if willing some of his calm to transfer to you. The kiss is light but deliberate, and the way his lips linger makes your chest ache in a way you can’t quite describe.

You stay in bed for a while longer, his arms wrapped securely around you as you steal soft kisses and exchange quiet murmurs. His lips graze over your hairline, the corner of your mouth, trailing along your neck as if grounding you with his presence. But eventually, the real world pulls you from the cocoon of his embrace, and you force yourselves to get up.

As you make your way to the kitchen, the two of you laugh softly at some half-forgotten joke, his hand brushing against yours as you walk. But the second you step inside, the warmth between you evaporates. Karina is standing by the counter, her posture stiff, her guilty expression painfully obvious as she busies herself setting out three plates of breakfast. The smell of toast and coffee fills the air, but it feels suffocating, too heavy for the sudden tension thickening the room. Mark’s hand instinctively brushes against your lower back, steadying you as your eyes lock on her. The air feels charged, fragile, like the slightest word could shatter the silence.

You stop in your tracks, your laughter fading. Rolling your eyes, you move to turn back toward your room, but Mark’s hand gently wraps around your wrist, stopping you. “Don’t,” he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes search yours, calm and reassuring. “You should talk to her.”

“I don’t want to,” you reply, crossing your arms defensively, your jaw tightening. “I don’t see the point.”

Mark’s grip on your wrist loosens, but his gaze doesn’t waver. “Do it for me?” he murmurs, his tone warm but tinged with quiet insistence.

You huff, your resistance faltering under his steady gaze. “Fine,” you mutter, your voice laced with reluctance. “I’m doing this for you. Only you.”

Karina’s gaze flickers up as you and Mark step into the kitchen, her shoulders tensing the moment her eyes meet his. Her hands, which had been idly tracing the rim of her glass, freeze mid-motion. The silence is thick, her expression unreadable at first, but her gaze lingers just a second too long on the way Mark’s hand rests lightly against your lower back. Her jaw tightens almost imperceptibly, her lips pressing into a thin line.

She looks away quickly, but not before you catch the flicker of unease in her eyes, the tell-tale flush that creeps up her neck and into her cheeks. Her fingers resume their fidgeting, now twisting the hem of her oversized sweatshirt, pulling at the fabric like she can’t keep still.

“Hey,” she says finally, her voice soft but strained, her words barely audible over the quiet tension filling the room. She doesn’t look at you again, her eyes fixed on a spot on the counter as if avoiding your gaze will somehow make the moment pass faster.

Mark murmurs a casual greeting, but you don’t say anything, your eyes narrowing as you watch her shift nervously from one foot to the other. Her entire body language screams discomfort—her shoulders hunched slightly, her weight shifting as though she wants to leave but doesn’t know how to. When she finally glances up again, her gaze flickers briefly to yours, then darts away, her lips parting like she wants to say something but can’t quite get the words out.

The knot of frustration in your chest twists tighter. You’ve caught this before— a mix of something unspoken, something that feels uncomfortably close to jealousy and longing. It’s subtle, but it’s there, thick in the air, her expression tightening every time she sees you with him. You’ve never brought it up, always brushing it off as your own overthinking, but now, standing in this tense, charged silence, your resolve crumbles.

Karina clears her throat, the sound too loud in the silence. Her hands move to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear, but the motion is jerky, almost frantic. When she speaks again, her voice is uneven, like she’s forcing herself to sound normal. “So, um, how did you sleep?” The question is directed at both of you, but she doesn’t wait for an answer, her hand reaching for the glass in front of her. She grips it too tightly, her knuckles whitening, and takes a long sip, her gaze fixed anywhere but on you and Mark.

“So…. I’ll be in your room if you need me.” With that, he grabs the coffee Karina had poured and takes a bite of the toast she made, muttering a quick “Thanks” before leaving the kitchen.

Her stare lingers on Mark as he brushes his hand against your lower back as he leaves, the small touch protective and intimate, and it feels like that stare sears into your skin. The knot of frustration in your chest tightens, twisting painfully, and you can’t keep it in any longer.

“Why do you always look at us like that?” you ask suddenly, your voice sharper than you intended as you take a step forward.

Karina’s head snaps up, her brows furrowing. “Like what?” she asks defensively, though her voice wavers slightly.

“Like you hate seeing us together,” you bite out, the frustration spilling over, your emotions pushing past your usual restraint. “Like you don’t want me to be happy.”

Your voice trembles slightly, and the vulnerability in your own words makes your chest ache. Karina’s lips part like she wants to respond, but the guilt written across her face is undeniable. Her eyes dart away, and she fidgets with the hem of her shirt, avoiding the weight of your gaze. The room feels suffocating, the fragile thread of your friendship fraying with every second of silence.

Karina struggles to meet your eyes, her guilt evident in every nervous shift of her body. Her gaze darts to the floor, her lips pressed into a tight line as if holding back an apology she can’t quite voice. Her fingers fidget with the hem of her shirt, twisting and untwisting it—a tell she’s never been able to suppress. When she finally speaks, her voice is quieter, almost pleading. “I didn’t mean for it to happen, okay?”

You folded your arms across your chest, leaning forward slightly, the weight of her excuses pressing harder against your already strained patience. “Then why did you do it?” you asked, your voice sharp enough to cut. “Why would you go behind my back and tell Jeno of all people?”

Karina’s mouth opened and closed like she was searching for a response that wouldn’t make things worse, but her silence only made your anger simmer closer to the surface. “I thought…” she started, then faltered, biting her lip. “I thought it was the right thing to do. I thought if he—”

“You thought what?” you snapped, your voice rising as you took a step closer. “That it wasn’t messy enough? That maybe you should blow it all up for good measure?”

Her head jerked up, her brows furrowing, but the guilt in her eyes was unmistakable. “No! I swear I didn’t mean—”

“You knew exactly what you were doing, Rina. And honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if you did it because you don’t want us to be together. What’s next? Are you going to admit you have feelings for Mark?”

That accusation landed like a blow. Karina froze, her eyes widening briefly before narrowing in anger. “You’re unbelievable,” she said quietly, her voice trembling with restrained frustration. “Why the hell do you think everything is about you? You’re more delusional than I thought.”

The words hit harder than you expected, like a slap across your face, leaving your chest tight and your throat dry. For a moment, you couldn’t speak, the weight of her anger settling heavily in the space between you.

But Karina wasn’t done. She stepped forward, her own voice sharper now, edged with something colder than you’d ever heard from her. “You think I want your man? That’s what you’ve convinced yourself of? You’re so wrapped up in your own mess you can’t see past your perfect little bubble. Not everything revolves around you, Y/N.”

Your pulse pounded in your ears, her words cutting through your anger and hitting something deeper, something raw. “You’re twisting this around,” you said, but your voice cracked, the weight of her accusations settling over your chest.

“Oh, am I?” she shot back, her words quick and scathing now. “You’re the one sneaking around with Mark. You lied to Jeno. You’ve been lying to yourself, to everyone, and you somehow expect me to clean it all up for you. Like I always do.”

Your voice rises, refusing to back down. “I’ve seen it—the way you look at Mark. It’s like you’re waiting for something to fall apart, like you don’t want us to work.”

Karina’s flush deepens, but instead of denying it outright, her frustration explodes. “You don’t get it,” she snaps, her voice trembling with emotion. “Everything just works out for you. You get Mark, you had Jeno’s trust, and even when you screw up, people bend over backward to forgive you. Do you have any idea what it’s like to watch you get everything while I’m left dealing with the fallout?”

Your pulse pounds in your ears, and anger flares in your chest. “Why now, Karina? Why does this matter so much to you?”

She exhales sharply, her tone cold. “Because you’ve dragged me into this, made it my problem. And maybe if you’d been more careful, Jeno wouldn’t have found out.”

The argument had reached its boiling point, voices echoing in the kitchen like thunder. Karina’s face was flushed with anger, her arms crossed defensively, while your own hands trembled at your sides. You shouted, your voice cracking with the strain. “You think I wanted this? You think I asked for all of this chaos?” Your breath hitched, emotions boiling over as you tried to steady yourself against the counter. “You’re just mad because for once, I have something good, and you can’t stand it.”

Karina’s laugh was bitter, hollow. “Good? You call lying to Jeno and dragging Mark into your mess ‘good’? Maybe Mark deserves to know just how selfish you really are. Or better yet—maybe he already knows.” Her words hit you like a slap, and before you could even think of a response, she stormed out, leaving you standing there, reeling. The finality of her words left a jagged silence in the air, and you felt your knees weaken as you crumpled to the floor, your breath hitching into sobs.

You didn’t know how long you sat there, curled into yourself in the corner of the room, the tiles cold against your legs. The sound of your phone vibrating against the counter barely registered, and when it stopped, you heard Mark’s voice calling your name. His footsteps grew louder, quicker, until he rounded the corner and found you there.

“Hey, hey,” he murmured, his voice soft but laced with urgency as he dropped to his knees in front of you. His hands cupped your face, thumbs brushing away the tears streaming down your cheeks. “Baby, I’m here,” he whispered, leaning in to press a tender kiss to your forehead. 

Your shoulders shook as you broke down, burying your face into his chest. His arms wrapped tightly around you, grounding you in his warmth as his fingers threaded through your hair. “Let it out, baby,” he murmured against the crown of your head, his lips brushing your skin with every word. “I’ve got you.”

His voice was steady, his presence a solid anchor against the storm swirling inside you. His hands moved to your back, firm and reassuring, drawing soft circles as he let you cry into him. The weight of Karina’s words, the fight, everything—it all spilled out in heaving sobs that left you trembling in his hold.

When the tears finally slowed, Mark didn’t rush you. He stayed quiet, his hand moving to cradle the back of your neck as he tilted your head to meet his gaze. His eyes were warm, deep with understanding, and when he leaned in to kiss your tear-streaked cheek, you felt a sliver of calm settle in your chest. “Whenever you’re ready,” he whispered, his lips brushing your temple. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You nodded weakly, your fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt as you tried to steady your breathing. “I’m sorry,” you choked out, your voice barely audible.

“Don’t,” he said softly, shaking his head as he pulled you even closer. “You don’t have to apologize. I’ve got you, okay? We’ll get through this —”

Mark didn’t even get the chance to finish his sentence before your lips crashed against his, cutting him off. It wasn’t soft, nor sweet—it was desperate, rough, and full of fire. Your teeth scraped against his bottom lip, your tongue forcing its way past his, and the kiss was messy, all-consuming. You straddled him in an instant, your nails digging into his scalp as you tugged his hair with a force that made him hiss against your lips. The sting didn’t stop him—it spurred him on. His groan was guttural, his hands locking onto your hips as you ground against him without hesitation.

“Slow down, baby,” he rasped, his voice thick with arousal, though there wasn’t a hint of true resistance in his tone. His grip tightened on your hips, trying to steady your relentless movements, but you didn’t stop. If anything, you pushed harder, grinding down until the hard length of him pressed perfectly against you through the thin layers separating your bodies.

You didn’t care about the consequences or about taking your time. All you wanted was to drown in the heat of him, to feel him in a way that would push out every other thought. Mark groaned again, his hips jerking up to meet yours. “Fuck,” he muttered, his head falling back as your lips left his to kiss along his jaw, then down to his neck. Your teeth scraped against his skin before you sucked hard, marking him, branding him as yours. The sharp gasp that escaped his throat sent another surge of heat rushing through your veins.

His cock strained against the confines of his sweats, and you made quick work of sliding your hands beneath the waistband. He was hot, hard, and heavy in your grip, and the way he hissed when your fingers wrapped around him was enough to make your thighs clench. Without a word, he stood, gripping your ass tightly as he carried you upstairs, your legs wrapping around his waist. Your lips never left his as he moved with practiced ease, making it to the bed without hesitation.

Mark barely had time to drop you onto the mattress before you were on him again, pushing him back until he fell onto the bed. You straddled him, your movements fueled by nothing but lust and frustration. With a sharp tug, you yanked his sweats down just enough to free him, your eyes darkening at the sight of him fully exposed and aching for you. The need in your chest was unbearable as you sank down onto him in one swift motion, your slick heat enveloping him completely.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, his voice wrecked as his hands gripped your thighs tightly, his blunt nails digging into your skin. The stretch of him was intense, almost too much, but you didn’t slow down. You rode him with a rough, desperate rhythm, your hips slamming down against his with each movement. The wet, obscene sounds of your bodies echoed through the room, mixing with your sharp breaths and his guttural groans.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Mark growled, his hands sliding to your ass, guiding your movements as he thrust up to meet you. The force of his hips made you gasp, your nails raking down his chest as you leaned forward, capturing his lips again in another bruising kiss.

He tried to slow you down, murmuring your name as if to coax you into easing up, but you shook your head, your expression hard. “Don’t,” you bit out, your voice laced with irritation as you moved faster, taking what you needed. “Don’t try to fix this. Just—just let me.”

Mark’s jaw clenched, the muscles tightening as he realized what you were doing. His hands gripped your hips hard enough to leave marks, and for a moment, he let you take control, let you use him. But when you leaned down, your lips brushing against his ear, and whispered, “Maybe I should ask for someone else’s help,” the tension in his body snapped.

“Maybe Jeno’s.”

Mark’s reaction was instant, a low, feral growl rumbling in his chest that sent a shiver down your spine. Before you could even process it, he flipped you onto your back with an almost primal force. His hands captured your wrists, pinning them above your head and the hard length of his cock grinds into you through the thin barrier of fabric. The dominance in his gaze was undeniable, his eyes blazing with frustration and unrestrained desire, the intensity making your breath hitch.

His lips curled into a dark chuckle, his voice dripping with mockery. “Is that so?” he murmured, his tone equal parts teasing and dangerous. “But that’s too bad, baby. Jeno probably can’t handle how needy you are all the time. Or maybe…” His lips brushed against your ear, his breath hot as he whispered, “…I’ve just let you push me around for too long.”

Your pulse raced as his words settled over you, the heat in his tone both thrilling and unnerving. You met his gaze, defiance flickering in your eyes as you pushed back, testing the edge he was toeing. “And what if I did ask for his help?” you murmured, your voice trembling but bold. “What would you do?”

The air between you turned electric, the sharp press of his cock grinding against your soaked core making your breath catch. His hips rolled with deliberate force, the friction igniting every nerve as your thighs tightened instinctively around his waist. The sharp edge of his teeth grazed your jawline, a low, guttural growl rumbling from his chest. “You really want to test me like that?” he bit out, his voice a dangerous whisper, his hands gripping your hips to keep you pinned beneath him. The rigid heat of him pressed harder, dragging against your clit in a way that made your body writhe against him, desperate for more. “Go on,” he growled, leaning in so his breath fanned hot against your ear, his hips bucking just enough to make you gasp. “Ask for Jeno’s help. I dare you.”

Your teeth grazed his neck, sinking in just enough to leave a mark, and the way he tensed beneath you made your stomach flip. “You’re mine,” you whispered, your voice trembling with equal parts desperation and resolve. The possessiveness in your tone lit a spark in his eyes, and the dark, primal hunger that flickered there sent heat coursing through your veins. His body pressed harder against yours, his cock throbbing against your core, and the sharp inhale he took was pure, raw desire.

His hands gripped your waist firmly, pulling you flush against him as if he couldn’t stand even the slightest distance between you. Before he could speak, you clung to him, your nails raking down his back as you gasped, “But you won’t leave me, right?” Your voice cracked, frantic and pleading, every word a desperate attempt to anchor yourself. “You said—we’d figure it out together. Please, Mark. Don’t go. Please.” The urgency in your tone sent a jolt through him, his lips parting as his breath grew heavier. Without hesitation, he crashed his mouth into yours, the kiss consuming and feral, his hands roaming your body like he was trying to memorize every curve, every shiver, every moan.

The bed groaned under the force, matching the rhythm of his hips, and his grip on your wrists remained firm, holding you exactly where he wanted you. Yet, despite the commanding edge, there was something sweet in the way his thumbs brushed your skin, his mouth trailing soft kisses along your jawline between gasps. His every move was possessive but laced with care, making you feel claimed and cherished all at once as he drove you closer to the edge, whispering, “Mine too.”

“Look at me,” he demanded, his voice softer but no less authoritative. His eyes locked onto yours, and the intensity of his gaze made your chest tighten, the vulnerability of being so exposed under his stare sending a thrill through your body. “I want to see you, baby. Every part of you.”

You couldn’t look away, even as the overwhelming pleasure built to a breaking point. His thrusts grew deeper, rougher, his cock hitting the perfect spot inside you with every movement. Your hands slid up to cradle his face, your voice trembling with affection as you whispered, “You’re so good to me, Mark. So perfect.” Your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, pulling him closer as if you couldn’t bear to let him go. “I love how you make me feel,” you murmured against his lips, your words punctuated by soft moans, each one driving him to thrust into you with even more intensity.

Suddenly, Mark’s hips moved slower, deliberate in their pace, drawing a frustrated groan from you. Your nails scraped lightly against his shoulders, trying to spur him on. “Why are you going so slow?” you demanded, your voice laced with irritation as you attempted to grind harder against him.

His thrusts didn’t falter, staying maddeningly unhurried as his gaze locked on yours. “You feel so tense, baby,” he whispered, his voice soft but steady, a stark contrast to the heat between you. His hands moved to your waist, thumbs rubbing soothing circles against your skin. “Tell me what’s going on.”

You shook your head, avoiding his eyes, your lips parting to deflect. “Mark—just—don’t.”

But Mark wasn’t letting it go. He stopped completely, his length still buried inside you, his forehead resting gently against yours. “I’m not going any faster until you tell me why that talk with Karina has you so upset,” he murmured, his tone calm but firm. “I need you to trust me, baby. Let me in.”

The ultimatum hung heavy in the air. You clenched your jaw, your body trembling slightly from the emotions bubbling up, but you stayed quiet, your eyes darting away. Mark’s thumb brushed your cheek, coaxing you to look at him.

“Okay, baby,” he continued, his voice softening further, “I’ll fuck you. But we’re not going to do that thing where we don’t communicate. I want to know you. Your feelings, your emotions, what’s on your mind. I want you to talk to me.”

His words caught you off guard, and your breath hitched, the frustration in your chest threatening to spill over. You hesitated, your lips pressing together as you tried to avoid the way his gaze seemed to strip you bare.

Finally, the tension broke, and your voice came out trembling, thick with the weight of everything you’d been holding in. “Our talk went nowhere,” you admitted softly, the words stumbling out like they couldn’t wait any longer. “The party, when she told Jeno about us, was my last straw. I don’t care if she made a mistake.” Your breath hitched as the memories replayed, her words cutting deeper than you wanted to admit.

“It’s been building for weeks, and then today, we just—screamed at each other. She said things—things I can’t get out of my head.” Your throat tightened, and you forced yourself to keep going. “She said I don’t deserve you. That you’ll figure out how selfish and what a liar I am—or that you already know. That you’ll leave me.” Each word hung in the air like a wound, the hurt laced with an underlying fear that maybe, just maybe, Karina had a point.

As the first tear slipped down your cheek, Mark leaned forward, kissing it away with a tenderness that made your chest tighten. His lips brushed against your temple, lingering there as his hand moved to cradle the back of your neck. “I’m sorry you’re carrying all that, baby,” he whispered, his voice warm and soft. “But you know that’s not true, right? You deserve everything. You deserve me. All of me. I wouldn’t ever leave you”

The dam broke, and a sob escaped your lips. Mark pulled you closer, letting you bury your face in his neck as the tears came. His hands stroked soothing patterns along your back, his presence steady and unwavering. “It’s okay,” he murmured, kissing the side of your head. “I’m here. Just let it out.”

As the tears spilled down your cheeks, Mark’s embrace tightened around you, providing a refuge from the storm of your emotions. He gently cradled your head against his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear. His hands roamed your back in slow, comforting strokes, each touch a silent reassurance of his unwavering support. “You don’t need to do anything to make me stay,” he whispered, his lips pressing a tender kiss to your hair. “I’m here, no matter what, through every high and every low. Just be here with me too, that’s all I need.” His voice was a calm anchor in the tumult of your feelings, reminding you that his commitment wouldn’t be tied to moments of happiness or intimacy alone, but was a constant, steadfast presence in your life.

You nodded, your voice still trembling. “I’m sorry. I just—I didn’t know how to tell you.”

Mark’s thumb brushed against the back of your hand, his touch grounding and steady. “Hey,” he started softly, his voice low and calm. “I’m not saying what she said was okay—because it wasn’t. But maybe try to see where Karina’s coming from. She’s probably feeling overwhelmed, maybe even cornered, and people say stupid, hurtful things when they’re angry. That doesn’t mean she meant all of it.” He paused, his gaze locked on yours, making sure his words didn’t come across as dismissive. “I’m not defending her actions, baby. I’m just saying… try not to let it eat you up. She’s been your friend for a long time, and I don’t think she really believes those things about you.”

He shifted closer, cupping your face with both hands as his thumbs brushed the tears lingering on your cheeks. “You don’t have to fix this right now. Let time heal everything, yeah? Give her space, give yourself space, and let things cool down.” His forehead pressed gently to yours, his lips ghosting over your skin in a comforting gesture. 

You let out a shaky breath, Mark’s steady voice and grounding touch doing their job to ease the storm inside you. His words didn’t erase the pain Karina had caused, but they softened it, giving it a shape you could begin to understand. “You’re right,” you murmured, your voice small but earnest. “I know you’re right, but it’s so hard not to take it personally. Especially when she said those things about me not deserving you. It just—it really got to me.”

Your tears came harder, your sobs shaking your body as the weight of everything seemed impossible to hold in any longer. Mark stayed silent, holding you tightly, his presence grounding you as he pressed soft, reassuring kisses to your damp cheeks. His hands moved gently along your back, tracing calming patterns that made your breathing hitch but also steadied you. He didn’t say anything—he didn’t need to. His touch, the way he kissed you softly, conveyed everything he wanted you to feel: that you weren’t alone, that he was here for you.

When he moved inside of you, it was slow and deliberate, his body leaning into yours with quiet intention. His hips rolled softly against you, deliberate but unhurried, each movement meant to comfort rather than overwhelm. His forehead rested against yours, his lips brushing tender kisses over your cheeks, your temple, your lips. “I want to make you feel good, baby,” he whispered, his voice low and soothing, a promise that carried more than just words. “I want you to know how much you mean to me.” 

Each thrust was unhurried but deliberate, his hands guiding your body as he moved inside you. He wasn’t just fucking you—he was holding you, grounding you, reminding you of everything he was for you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer, letting yourself melt into the safety of his embrace.

As your cries softened into quiet gasps, he held you closer, his body a steady anchor against the storm inside you. The lewd, wet sounds of your connection filled the air, mingling with your breathless whimpers. His lips brushed over your ear, his voice rough yet tender. His strokes became slower, deeper, coaxing your body to relax completely against him. His name fell from your lips in broken whispers as his pace evened out, each thrust rocking you gently back into his arms.

Finally, when the exhaustion overtook you, Mark’s movements grew softer, coaxing you to the edge of sleep. He stayed buried inside you, his hands stroking your back, his lips pressing one last kiss to your forehead. “I’ve got you,” he whispered again, his voice a low hum that matched the soothing rhythm of his body. You mumbled his name in a half-asleep murmur, feeling the comforting weight of his body against yours.

“Baby, can you promise me something?” Mark murmured, his voice low and filled with earnest warmth as he held you closer, his steady presence enveloping you in comfort. His eyes locked onto yours, soft yet intent. “Can we always make sure to be honest and communicate with each other, no matter what?”

A wave of vulnerability washed over you at his words. A silent fear crept in, rooted in the complexity of your own thoughts—deep, sometimes dark, and intricate. You worried silently that the full extent of your inner turmoil might be too much for him, that the raw, unfiltered parts of your mind could push him away. 

Mark noticed the slight tension in your expression and reassured you with a tender, affirming tone. “You don’t need to ever hide anything from me, you know I’ll always prioritize and understand you, right? You won’t scare me away; you won’t ever do anything to make me leave,” he whispered, his words wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

Nodding. “I promise, baby.” You extended your pinky finger towards him, a small but significant gesture. He linked his pinky with yours, sealing the promise. As your fingers intertwined, Mark leaned in to kiss you softly, then playfully added, “You know, pinky promises are legally binding, right? You can’t break it now.” His light-hearted tease drew a soft smile from you despite the lingering tension from earlier.

Holding his hand, you kissed it gently, reaffirming your connection. Mark then pulled you into his arms, creating a safe haven as you nestled against him. You kept your hands interlocked, a silent testament to your need for his presence, your fingers tightly clasped as you drifted towards sleep.

As your breathing evened out, his warmth surrounded you, pulling you into a dreamless, comforting sleep. Mark stayed with you and inside of you, his hold never wavering, ensuring that even in your most vulnerable state, you felt completely and utterly safe. 

───────────────────────────────

The morning light filtered softly through the windows, casting a golden glow over your room as you stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the hem of your mini skirt. The fabric skimmed your thighs, perfectly accentuating your curves. Paired with a fitted tank top that clung to your figure and your favorite boots that added just the right edge, the outfit made you feel bold—confident in a way you hadn’t felt in days. It wasn’t your usual choice for college, but today wasn’t a usual day. You needed a distraction, for yourself and for everyone else.

“Is your plan to dress slutty to make people distracted so they don’t ask you about us?”

The deep, teasing drawl of Mark’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. You turned, meeting his gaze as he leaned casually against the doorway. His smirk was lazy, but his eyes gave him away—dark, intent, and utterly fixated on you. His breath hitched almost imperceptibly as his gaze roamed over you, taking in every detail of your outfit with an intensity that sent a ripple of heat through your body.

“You like it?” you asked, your tone light but knowing.

Mark’s presence was a steady warmth as he comes behind you, grounding you in the moment. His fingers clasped the delicate necklace around your neck, the chain cold against your skin as he leaned down to press a kiss to the top of your head. You leaned back into him, letting his arms circle your waist briefly.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to keep my hands off you today,” he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. His voice was low, sultry, and sent a shiver down your spine. His hands slipped under the hem of your mini skirt, the rough pads of his fingers gripping the curve of your ass possessively.

“Should I just take it off then?” you teased, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

His grip tightened slightly, his voice deepening as he responded, “Yes, please.” The way his hands lingered made your knees weak.

“—And change into something else?” you finished, tilting your head to look at him. His lips quivered into a knowing smirk, but the tension was momentarily broken. He let his head rest on your shoulder. Unable to resist, you turned your face toward his, brushing your lips against his in a tender kiss. The contact started soft but quickly deepened, a spark igniting as his mouth moved against yours with deliberate pressure. His hand came up to cradle the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair as he tilted your face to his liking, the kiss growing hungrier, more intimate. You sighed into him, your lips parting to welcome the heat of his tongue. The exchange left you breathless and for a moment, everything felt simple again.

But simplicity wasn’t the reality.

“Let’s go now, you ready?” His voice was gentle, but the weight of his question wasn’t lost on you. Today was the first day back on campus since everything had changed—since everyone knew. Your relationship with Mark wasn’t a secret anymore, and the fallout had left your closest relationships in shambles.

You nodded, the tightness in your chest making it hard to find your voice. Although you looked calm, the emotions beneath the surface churned like an unrelenting storm threatening to break free. As Mark opened the door and you stepped out, the reality of facing campus settled in. By the time you reached the college after a short car ride, the sight of the familiar buildings had your stomach twisting in knots. You gripped the edge of your bag, your fingers trembling slightly. You felt like throwing up.

Mark’s arm slid around your waist, his touch firm yet soothing as he pulled you into his side. His body pressed against yours, his warmth acting as a buffer against the rising tide of your nerves. Leaning against the car, he cupped your face with both hands, tilting your chin so you had no choice but to meet his eyes. There was that look in them—one that made you feel like the rest of the world could fade away if you stayed close enough to him.

“Will you be okay if I hold your hand? Kiss you?” His voice was soft, his tone layered with concern.

You hesitated, glancing down at your intertwined hands. “Everyone already knows, Mark. What’s the point of hiding now?” Your sigh carried a note of resignation, your gaze flickering to the groups of students scattered across the campus, their eyes already beginning to wander in your direction.

Mark’s thumbs caressed your cheeks softly, his touch as reassuring as his words. “Are you sure? If you’re not ready for this, we can wait.” His voice was so tender it made your chest ache. “You’re all that matters to me. Not them. I just want you to be comfortable. I don’t care what anyone thinks as long as you’re okay.”

His sincerity pulled at the tight strings of your heart, and you nodded, touched by how deeply he cared. “I’m sure, baby. Yeah… okay. Let’s stop hiding.”

He smiled softly before leaning in, pressing a kiss to your lips. It wasn’t rushed or fleeting—it was a promise, one that calmed the chaos within you for just a moment. “Just squeeze my hand if you feel like it’s too much, yeah?”

Stepping onto campus hand in hand, the sun bathed everything in a golden glow, soft and warm against your skin. It should have felt like a fresh start, but instead, the whispers and pointed glances started almost immediately. Mark, ever aware of your unease, kissed your temple in passing and whispered, “You’re doing amazing. Just focus on me, okay?”

Still, the weight of the stares and hushed conversations started to press down on you. Your breathing quickened, your chest tightening as anxiety curled around you like a vice. You squeezed his hand tightly, your grip almost desperate. Mark immediately noticed, gently removing his hand to assess you, his brows furrowing with concern.

He guided you into the quiet corner he’d found, his hands steady on your shoulders, grounding you as the hum of campus life faded into the background. You could still feel the lingering stares, the weight of whispers clinging to your skin. The tension was suffocating, and your voice came out barely above a whisper, wavering with unease. “Mark,” you murmured, unable to stop your gaze from darting nervously around. “Everyone’s looking. Everyone’s whispering. It’s like they’re just waiting for us to fall apart.”

Mark’s expression softened, his brows furrowing as he gently turned you to face him fully. His hands slid from your shoulders to your waist, his touch firm yet comforting as he leaned in closer. “No one is waiting for anything,” he said softly, his voice steady but laced with determination. “People will talk, but that’s all it is—talk. It doesn’t matter what they think. No one’s looking at us like that. Everyone’s too wrapped up in their own lives. This will all pass, I promise. You just have to breathe through it. I’ve got you, alright?”

His words, so intimate and full of care, managed to pull you out of the spiral, and for the first time, you let yourself believe him. “Okay,” you whispered, the tension easing slightly.

When you returned to the open campus, you felt lighter, his hand back in yours. But the need for closeness overwhelmed you again, and without thinking, you squeezed his hand. Mark, misunderstanding, pulled his hand away again, only for you to grab it right back, intertwining your fingers tightly and leaning into him.

You laughed softly at his confused expression, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Not letting go this time,” you murmured, and Mark chuckled, his smile warm as he pulled you even closer.

Your gaze swept across the courtyard, heart pounding as you took in the scattered students milling about, laughing, talking, entirely caught up in their own worlds. For a moment, the anxiety threatening to consume you ebbed, replaced by a quiet realization—none of them mattered. Just like they were in their own world, you had yours. And your world, right now, was Mark.

With a steadying breath, you moved your hand from his and slid it around his shoulders, pulling him closer. Before he could question it, you leaned in and kissed him, hard and purposeful. The action was unplanned, raw, but it felt right. The connection between you sparked like a live wire, and for a heartbeat, Mark froze, startled by your boldness.

Then, just as quickly, he melted into you, his hands gripping your waist as he kissed you back with just as much intensity. His lips pressed against yours, eager yet tender, and his breath hitched as if he couldn’t quite keep up with the rush of emotion. The world around you blurred, students and whispers fading into nothing as he pulled you even closer, his grip firm but protective. It was just the two of you now, fully and unequivocally together—no hiding, no hesitation. You were his, and he was yours, for everyone to see.

───────────────────────────────

The late afternoon sun filtered through the gymnasium’s high windows, its golden glow casting long shadows across the bleachers. You sat with Winter, your cheer practice bag tossed carelessly at your feet. The buzz of practice filled the air—shoes squeaking on polished floors, low chatter, the occasional barked command from Coach Suh—but your focus was split. Winter’s sharp voice had dragged you out of your daydreams, and now you found yourself regretting it.

“So, I heard you and Mark started groping each other on campus,” she said, a smug tone coloring her words.

Your face flushed at her phrasing, irritation bubbling up immediately. “All we did was kiss,” you muttered, your voice clipped. You weren’t one for public displays of affection beyond holding hands or a casual kiss. Mark respected that, never pushing the boundaries, and you appreciated it. You weren’t sure why Winter made it sound so scandalous, but her tone had you instantly defensive.

“How’s it going?” she pressed, her curiosity too pointed, her gaze too observant.

“Good,” you replied curtly, hoping your brevity would end the conversation. It didn’t.

“Is he your boyfriend yet?” she asked, her tone lilting with feigned innocence.

You exhaled sharply, biting back the words you wanted to say: You know, it’s really none of your fucking business. Before you could give her a polite response, she barreled on. “You know, you should be the one to ask him to make it official,” she suggested, a sly smile tugging at her lips.

You stared at her blankly, unsure where this was going. She continued, “I mean, isn’t he always the one doing all the ‘firsts’? I heard he initiated your first time, plans all your dates, decided when you’d be exclusive… Maybe you should surprise him for once.”

Her words stuck, even as you bristled at the assumption. Winter wasn’t a mean girl, but her observations often felt more invasive than helpful, leaving you feeling exposed. Whether she meant it or not, her comment hit a nerve. It planted a seed of doubt you hadn’t realized was there. Had Mark been carrying the weight of your relationship all along? Did he ever feel tired of being the one to make things happen? What if he got sick of trying?

Your thoughts spiraled further when you wondered how Winter even knew so much. The answer was obvious: Karina. You had confided in her about so much—your highs and lows, your doubts and hopes—and now it seemed she had shared those details with others. The idea stung, a sharp pang of betrayal that simmered quietly under your skin.

Your gaze drifted toward the court, where the guys were joking and laughing between drills. Mark was talking with Jaemin, his grin wide and carefree, and for a moment, your heart softened. But then Coach Suh’s voice cut through the air like a whistle.

“Lee,” he barked. Both Jeno and Mark turned to him, but the coach clarified with a nod towards Mark. “You’re excused from practice today. You can go.”

Your brows furrowed as you watched Mark grab his bag and leave the court without much fanfare. Before you could process what had just happened, Karina’s voice broke through your thoughts. It was soft and measured, her tone at odds with the tension lingering between you.

“Y/N, you can go too,” she said. “Catch up at the next practice.”

You didn’t question it, grabbing your bag and heading out without a backward glance. Whether Karina did it out of spite or indifference, you didn’t care. Cheerleading was the last thing you wanted to deal with right now.

As you wandered the empty corridors, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You pulled it out and saw a message from Mark.

mark — come meet me by my car.

Curiosity piqued, you made your way outside. The parking lot was nearly empty except for his familiar figure leaning casually against the hood of his car. His arms were crossed, but his smile softened the stance as you approached.

“Hi,” you greeted softly, giving him a quick kiss.

“Why aren’t you in practice?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at him.

“I asked Karina to work something out so we could both get out of practice and classes for the day,” he said with a small smile.

You felt a pang of irritation at her involvement, but you forced it down and smiled back. “And she managed to pull that off?”

He chuckled. “She can pull off anything, apparently.”

You wiggled your eyebrows playfully, trying to lighten the unease inside of you. “So, what’s the plan? You wanna take me home?”

He shook his head, his smile turning softer. “Not quite. I wanna take you somewhere. Come on.” He opened the passenger door, pressing a kiss to your temple as he gestured for you to get in.

You slid into the seat, your curiosity growing. Wherever he was taking you, you could tell it was more than just a simple getaway. And for now, you let yourself trust him, letting the tension of the day slowly melt away.

As the car slowed to a stop, it didn’t take long for you to realize where Mark had brought you. The river court came into view, the familiar chain-link fence surrounding the cracked pavement and faded lines. Basketballs echoed against the asphalt, accompanied by the faint sounds of laughter and chatter that carried on the breeze.

Mark reached over, his fingers intertwining with yours as you stepped out of the car together. “Come on,” he said, his voice soft but encouraging. As you walked toward the court, he gave your hand a gentle squeeze, sensing the hesitation in your step.

When the sounds of his friends’ voices grew clearer, you turned to him with wide eyes. “Who’s here?” you asked, your tone both surprised and slightly nervous.

Mark’s smile was calm, reassuring. “I wanna introduce you to all of my friends,” he said, his expression warm as he glanced down at you.

You nodded, but your heart raced. Even though you’d been here once before with Mark, this felt entirely different. This wasn’t just the two of you stealing a quiet moment together—this was stepping into a world that meant so much to him, meeting the people who had shaped and supported him long before you were in the picture. The weight of the moment settled over you as the court came fully into view, the sacred space alive with movement and laughter.

Mark stopped, his eyes scanning your face. “You sure you’re okay with meeting them?” he asked, his protective tone laced with care. “If it feels like too much, we can leave.”

You took a deep breath, the tension in your chest easing as you met his gaze. His concern was so genuine it made your heart ache. Smiling softly, you squeezed his hand back. “I’m okay, I promise. I want to be here.”

His lips twitched into a satisfied smile, and he leaned down to press a quick, tender kiss to your temple. “Alright,” he murmured, his voice low and warm. He led you forward, his hand never leaving yours, the small gesture grounding you as the court bustled with life.

The moment you stepped into their line of sight, all eyes turned to you. There was a beat of silence before Donghyuck’s smirk broke the stillness. “Well, well,” he drawled, raising his camera to get a shot of the two of you. “Lee’s finally brought a girl to the court. Everyone act normal, don’t scare her off.”

Chenle elbowed Renjun, his voice far from subtle. “She must be a saint to put up with him.”

Wooyoung’s laugh rang out, light and teasing. “Or maybe Mark finally got his shit together.”

You couldn’t help the mix of nerves and amusement bubbling inside you. Their jokes felt lighthearted, but you still clung to Mark’s presence beside you like a lifeline. Sensing your unease, his hand slipped to the small of your back, a soft but steadying touch. “Ignore them,” he murmured, his voice just for you as he guided you toward the bench. “They’re idiots, but they’re my idiots.”

You smiled despite yourself, leaning into him just slightly as he led you into his world, his fingers never letting go of yours.

The sun dipped lower in the sky as the game kicked off, painting the river court in golden hues. You perched on the bench between Donghyuck and Chenle, your laughter blending with the rhythm of basketballs hitting the pavement. Donghyuck leaned forward, his hands mimicking a microphone as he began his dramatic commentary.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the legendary river court showdown! Lee Mark with the ball, ready to either prove he’s a legend or will he trip over his own feet?”

You giggled, nudging Chenle. “Does he always do this?”

Chenle smirked, his gaze fond as he watched his friends on the court. “Always. He started narrating games when we were kids. Now he’s official at the matches, but this place is where it all began. It’s where we all started—me, Mark, Hyuck… this court made us who we are.”

You glanced around, taking in the faded lines and worn pavement. This wasn’t just a court; it was a piece of history, etched with memories. The warmth of their bond enveloped you, a reminder of how special it was to be here, to be a part of this world.

Your eyes caught Mark’s from across the court, and everything else seemed to fade for a moment. The way his gaze softened at the sight of you made your chest ache, your grin widening on instinct. Without thinking, you raised your hand in a small wave before blowing him a playful kiss. He froze mid-dribble, his hands faltering just enough for Wooyoung to swoop in, snagging the ball and making an effortless shot.

Donghyuck’s voice rose, gleeful. “And look at that! Lee Mark pauses mid-dribble to make heart eyes at his girl. Focus, Lee, focus!”

Mark’s jaw tightened as he glared at Donghyuck, but the edges of his lips betrayed him, curling into an irrepressible grin. His eyes flicked back to yours, and you could see the amusement—and something deeper—shining in them. It made your cheeks warm under the attention.

Chenle leaned in beside you, his smirk both knowing and mischievous. “So,” he drawled, voice low enough for only you to hear, “you’ve officially broken Mark’s streak of never bringing a girl here.”

Your soft laugh slipped out before you could stop it, tinged with the heat of your flushed cheeks. “I guess I have,” you murmured, the words carrying a quiet pride you hadn’t realised you felt.

Donghyuck, ever the instigator, caught the tail end of your exchange and immediately chimed in. “Breaking records and breaking hearts! But real talk —” His voice took on a conspiratorial tone as he leaned toward you, eyes glinting with playful curiosity. “Is she his girlfriend? The people need answers!”

Mark groaned, rubbing the back of his neck, his face tinged with embarrassment. “Can you not?”

Chenle pressed, leaning in conspiratorially. “Seriously, though. Girlfriend or…?”

Mark opened his mouth, but you beat him to it. “Yeah, he’s my boyfriend,” you said confidently, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest.

The words hung in the air, and Donghyuck gasped, dropping his imaginary mic. “You heard it here first, folks! She claimed him!”

Mark froze mid-dribble, the ball rolling away unnoticed. His wide-eyed gaze locked onto yours, the joy in his expression unmistakable. “Wait, really?” he called, his voice cracking just slightly.

You nodded, heart pounding as his grin spread. “Yeah, really.”

In an instant, he was across the court, his arms wrapping around you as he pulled you into a deep, breathless kiss. The cheers and exaggerated gagging noises from his friends melted into the background. Mark’s lips moved against yours with a fervor that made your knees weak, his hands steady on your waist, grounding you in the moment.

“I need to hear you say it,” he whispered against your lips, his voice low and warm, his forehead pressing against yours. “Ask me to be your boyfriend.”

Your voice trembled, but the words came without hesitation. “Will you be my boyfriend?”

“Yes,” he murmured, his lips crashing back onto yours. The kiss was harder this time, full of raw, unspoken emotions, his fingers gripping your waist as if to anchor you to him. It was your first kiss as boyfriend and girlfriend, and it felt monumental, like the entire court tilted just for the two of you.

Fueled by your words, Mark returned to the game with an energy that bordered on unstoppable. He dominated the court, each basket sharper, more purposeful. His grin widened with every point, the happiness radiating from him infectious. The other players groaned and cursed playfully as Donghyuck narrated with over-the-top enthusiasm. “And Lee Mark takes the crown! Powered by love, apparently!”

As the game wrapped up, Mark jogged over to you, slightly breathless but glowing with joy. Wrapping his arm around your waist, he pulled you close, his lips brushing your temple. “Told you it was the best game ever.”

Mark leaned in close, his breath warm against your cheek as he ducked his head to position his ear near your lips. His proximity sent a shiver down your spine, and your words were a whisper, low enough for only him to hear. “Can we go home soon? I want to suck my boyfriend’s cock, you know, as a reward for winning.”

His reaction was immediate, a stifled moan rumbling from his chest as his eyes snapped to yours, darkened with adoration and lust. His fingers squeezed your hand, grounding himself, and a smirk teased at the corners of his lips. “We will,” he murmured, his voice husky, “but come with me first.”

You barely had time to register his words before he clasped his hand firmly in yours, pulling you gently but purposefully toward the court. His steps were confident, his touch commanding, and you followed without question, drawn to him like gravity. He stopped in front of the hoop, his body close enough to block the breeze, his presence shielding you. You furrowed your brows in confusion, but when he retrieved the ball and placed it in your hands, realization hit.

“Mark—don’t make me shoot. It’s gonna be embarrassing,” you protested, laughing nervously.

His eyes held yours, steady and unwavering, and the intensity in his gaze left you breathless. “You’ve got this,” he said simply, shaking his head as if your doubts were ridiculous. He stepped behind you, his body pressing softly but unmistakably against yours. His warmth enveloped you, his chest flush with your back as his hands slid over your arms to guide you. The faint scent of his cologne surrounded you, woodsy and rich, and it made your head spin.

“Just like this,” he murmured, his voice low as his fingers adjusted your grip on the ball. “That’s my girl,” he whispered in your ear, the praise sending a rush of heat through you. His lips brushed your temple briefly before he straightened, his hands still steady on yours.

You tried to focus, making a few practice throws, but every attempt fell short, the ball missing by a mile. “You’re doing great,” he encouraged, a soft chuckle rumbling in his chest as he stayed close. “Don’t overthink it, baby.”

His words only made your cheeks heat further, and your laughter bubbled out despite your frustration. “You’re gonna be saying that when I miss again?” you teased, your voice lighter now.

He chuckled against you, his breath tickling your neck. “No, I’m gonna make sure you get it this time.” His hands shifted on your waist, pulling you even closer, his body pressed firmly into yours. His touch was deliberate as his hands moved back to your arms, guiding you again, his voice low in your ear. “Relax. Breathe. Keep your eyes on the rim.” His fingers flexed against your skin, steady and sure, and the heat of him seeped through your clothes.

This time, with his hands guiding you, the ball arched perfectly through the hoop, the satisfying swish drawing a cheer from the boys. Mark’s grin widened. “That’s my girl. See? I knew you could do it.”

For the next shot, his hands left yours, though he stayed close, his chest still brushing against your back. He leaned down, his voice dropping into something deeper, something charged with promise. “If you make this one, I’ll give you a reward.” The tone of his words sent a shiver down your spine, the implication unmistakable.

You whimpered softly, your body reacting before your mind caught up. “Really? I think I might need more details,” you whispered back, your voice breathy as your gaze flicked over your shoulder to him. “Can you give me a hint about this ‘reward?’”

Mark’s hands gripped your waist more firmly, his body pressing into yours as his lips brushed against your ear. “Just feel me, baby,” he whispered, his voice rough and laced with promise. The hard, unmistakable press of him against you sent a wave of heat through your body, and when you instinctively pushed back, the low, guttural moan he let out made your breath hitch. His touch was intoxicating, each subtle movement igniting something deep inside you, but Donghyuck’s loud commentary from the sidelines jolted you back, forcing you to suppress a smile as you refocused on the hoop, fueled by Mark’s quiet, teasing presence behind you.

Mark moved to stand beside you, his voice firm but soft as he gave you pointers. “Feet shoulder-width apart, knees soft,” he murmured, his voice steady and calm. His fingers grazed your arms as he helped you position the ball, then shifted to your hips, guiding you slightly forward. “Elbows in, aim for a smooth arc, and don’t overthink it—just let it glide naturally,” he added 

Your breathing hitched, Mark’s promise of a ‘reward’ was more than enough to push you. You took a deep breath, centering yourself. You aimed, focused, and released. The ball sailed through the hoop with precision, the swish drawing loud cheers and exaggerated commentary.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Donghyuck announced dramatically. “She shoots! She scores! Lee Mark’s girl just became the queen of the river court!”

Your cheeks hurt from smiling, the happiness bubbling up in you so intense it felt like it might burst. Mark didn’t waste a second. He crossed the distance, cupping your face and pulling you into a kiss that was both deep and electric. “That was so hot,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough with barely restrained need. “I’m so turned on.”

“Yeah?” you whispered back, breathless as your fingers curled into his shirt.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he picked you up, spinning you around as laughter spilled from your lips. The pure joy in your expression made his chest tighten, and he couldn’t help but kiss you again, harder this time.

From behind, Donghyuck’s voice rang out, “Look at this guy! So down bad for his girl. Get a room!”

Mark ignored his friends and their teasing, laughing softly against your lips, his forehead pressing to yours. His fingers traced gentle circles on your waist, his eyes never leaving yours as the world around you blurred into nothing but him.

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The surprise had come later than you’d expected, testing the limits of your patience in the best way. After leaving the river court, where the tension between you had already been palpable, you made an unplanned stop by the beach. The sun dipped low on the horizon, painting the sky in hues of gold and pink, and for a time, the two of you simply sat together, hand in hand, basking in the quiet sanctuary of the moment. You had both even posted on Instagram, making your relationship public. 

By the time you returned to his apartment, the longing between you had built to an almost unbearable crescendo. It only took minutes for his hands to find your body, for his mouth to claim yours, and for your clothes to scatter in a trail to the bedroom. Desperate to show your gratitude and admiration, you’d begged him to let you take him in your mouth, to show him how thankful you were for everything—the win at the river court, his unwavering care, his presence. But Mark had only cupped your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks as he whispered, “I just want to be inside you, baby. I need to feel you.”

And now, with him buried deep inside you, every movement is a testament to that need. His cock draws soft whimpers from your lips that he swallows with a kiss, his mouth capturing yours like he can’t get enough. “Mine,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough and full of adoration. You can feel the slight tremor in his grasp, betraying how much he’s holding back to savor every second of this. “Look at me,” he whispers, his voice low and firm, his forehead resting against yours. Your eyes meet his, and the vulnerability in his gaze makes your chest tighten.

He pauses briefly, his lips brushing your temple first, lingering there with a tenderness that sends a wave of warmth through your chest. He moves to your forehead, pressing a firm, deliberate kiss there as if sealing a silent promise. Your heart pounds in your chest, and you tilt your head slightly as his lips travel down to the bridge of your nose, then to the tip, soft and teasing, making you smile despite the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you. When his mouth finds your cheeks, he kisses each one slowly, as though committing the feel of your skin to memory. The sensation makes your breath hitch, your entire body tingling under the deliberate care of his affection.

His lips trail to the corner of your mouth, brushing over the sensitive skin before finally capturing your lips in a kiss so deep and consuming it leaves you breathless. He pulls back only to place a tender kiss on your chin, his eyes locking with yours as he smiles softly, his love and desire for you written in every touch. Each kiss feels reverent, grounding you, while the weight of his body against yours reminds you just how connected you are. The world fades away under his attention, the only thing anchoring you being the sheer intimacy of his touch and the heat radiating between you.

“You feel so tight, baby,” he groans, his hips pressing deeper, his movements unhurried but full of intent. Your nails press into his back as your legs tighten around his waist, pulling him even closer, your breath catching when his hand moves to cup your jaw, tilting your face back to claim your lips once more. “I love how well your body takes me,” he breathes against your mouth, his voice dripping with desire. “All mine.”

Your legs tighten instinctively around his waist, locking him closer as you meet his thrusts with soft, deliberate movements of your own. His cock fills you completely with every roll of his hips, and the way he watches you—eyes dark, yet so tender—makes your chest ache with something deeper than just pleasure. “Mark,” you whisper, your voice trembling as your hands slide up his back, nails grazing his skin gently. “You’re always gonna be mine.”

Mark’s response comes as a low groan, his hips stuttering slightly at your words. His hands slide down to grip your hips firmly, pulling you even closer, making sure there’s not an inch of space left between you. “Always yours, baby,” he breathes, his voice thick with need and emotion. He leans down, brushing his lips over your temple, your nose, and then capturing your mouth in a kiss so deep it makes your toes curl.

“My boyfriend,” you whisper, giggling softly, your voice light and full of joy.

Mark’s response was immediate—a deep, guttural moan that vibrated through him as he surged forward, burying himself inside you completely. The sound sent a shiver down your spine, your giggle dissolving into a soft gasp as he adjusted his grip on your thigh, pulling your leg higher and tighter around his waist. The angle allowed him to hit even deeper, each precise thrust leaving you breathless and clinging to him.

“Say it again,” he whispers into your ear, his voice thick with desire, his breath brushing against your skin and sending a shiver down your spine. His lips ghost along the shell of your ear before trailing down to the curve of your neck, leaving soft, open-mouthed kisses that make your breathing hitch. His hands slide up your sides, gentle yet firm, his fingertips grazing over your skin as if he’s memorising every inch of you. The warmth of his touch makes your chest tighten, and when you whisper, “My boyfriend,” it’s barely audible, your voice trembling with emotion and pleasure. A soft moan escapes you, and before it can fully form, his mouth captures it, his kiss deep and consuming, stealing your breath as he pulls you impossibly closer.

“Again.” He moans into your mouth.

“My boyfriend,” you murmur again, your voice trembling as soft, needy moans spill from your lips into his. His eyes stay locked on yours, dark and intense, yet brimming with a tenderness that makes your chest tighten. The corners of his lips tug into a faint, knowing grin, and he leans in, pressing the gentlest kiss to your mouth, his tongue brushing over yours with a deliberate slowness that leaves you breathless.

His hands cradle your face, his thumbs stroking your cheeks as though you’re the most delicate thing he’s ever held, even as his hips move against yours with an intoxicating rhythm. The slick, tight pull of your walls around him makes his breathing hitch, his lips brushing over yours in breathy whispers of praise as the quiet rhythm of your bodies fills the room. The wet sounds of your bodies moving together echo softly in the room, mingling with his deep, guttural groans and your breathless whimpers, your toes curling and your back arching against him. 

“I didn’t expect you to make me your boyfriend—not that I’m complaining,” Mark murmurs, his voice soft but full of warmth. His eyes glimmer as they stay locked on yours, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I’m happy. So happy.”

You lace your fingers with his, bringing his hands closer to your lips as you kiss his knuckles tenderly, the gesture intimate and grounding. It feels like the right moment to explain yourself, the words spilling out as your heart races. “I feel like from the start we both knew it was always more than just sex,” you begin, your voice quiet but steady, filled with emotion. “I’ve been falling for you, Mark. I really have. You’ve made my days better in ways I can’t even explain.”

You press his hand to your chest, right where your heart beats wildly beneath your skin. “Do you feel that?” you whisper. “It’s what you do to me. Every time I’m around you, it’s like my whole body remembers how much you mean to me.” Your pupils widen as your gaze locks with his, and he tilts his head slightly, the corners of his mouth curving into a playful smirk. 

He coos, brushing his thumb over your cheek, silent as he absorbs your words, fully aware of how rare yet precious these moments of vulnerability are for you. You hold his hands tighter, wanting to be even closer. “I would do anything to make you happy,” you say earnestly, your voice trembling with sincerity. “You’re the most important thing to me, Mark. It’s been difficult these last six months, keeping us a secret, and I know how much you’ve had to agree to for my sake. You’ve respected my pace, how anxious I can get… And I just wanted you to know I see that. I feel it. And I’ll always appreciate you for it.”

You take a breath, your hand brushing his neck gently. “I guess I felt like I wasn’t doing enough to show you how much I care. You’ve initiated so many of our firsts, and I wanted to do this for you. I wanted you to feel what I feel every time you remind me how much you care. I thought it would make you happy.”

“I want to make you happy the way you make me happy,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “I’ve never felt this way before, Mark. Never.” 

He leans into your touch, his smile softening as he presses his lips to your palm. “You do make me happy. In every way,” he says, his voice low and reverent.

But then, his breath catches, a sharp hiss escaping his lips as you instinctively shift beneath him, your walls clenching tightly around his cock. “Baby,” he groans, his voice strained, a mix of pleasure and desperation, “don’t do that. I won’t last.” His head falls into the curve of your neck, his lips brushing your skin as he whispers for you to stay still. The warmth of his breath sends shivers down your spine, and you nod softly, grounding yourself in his closeness.

The stretch of him inside you is intoxicating, his size filling you completely, every inch of him pushing your limits but somehow fitting perfectly. He’s so big, so thick, the press of his cock against your walls leaving you feeling full and so warm. He stays still, buried to the hilt, his body flush against yours, radiating heat that seeps into your skin. The way he fills you is unlike anything else, a connection that’s both physical and emotional, his presence grounding you in the moment.

The two of you knew what this night would entail—slow, deliberate movements, soft kisses exchanged between gentle moans, whispers of love and quiet reassurances shared in the dim light of your bedroom. This night wouldn’t be about chasing release; it’s about savoring each other, the intimacy of simply being together. You’re more than happy for him to stay like this, his cock nestled deep inside you, keeping you warm and connected as his lips press soft kisses along your temple and down to your jaw.

“I want to tell you something, and I don’t want you to get scared,” he says softly, his voice steady but laced with emotion. The weight in his tone pulls you to reality, grounding you as his serious gaze locks with yours, full of sincerity and vulnerability.

Your stomach twists, and despite his reassurance this entire time, your breath catches in your throat. Your mind races, a familiar pang of fear creeping in. What did I do wrong? The moment had felt too perfect, too good to last. But then his next words cut through the haze of your doubt, wrapping around you like a balm.

“I’m in love with you. I’m so fucking in love with you,” he confesses, his voice deep and unshaken, his gaze piercing and unrelenting. There’s no hesitation, no fear in the way he says it. His eyes lock onto yours, his expression so raw, so vulnerable, that you can’t look away even as the intensity of his words makes your chest tighten.

It feels like the world shifts beneath your feet, his declaration grounding and unmooring you all at once. You feel warmth spreading through you, an overwhelming swell of emotion that makes your throat tighten and your hands tremble. Love. The word itself feels impossibly big, heavy with meaning, yet his voice makes it feel lighter, softer—like something you could finally hold onto without fear of it slipping away.

And yet, there’s a small part of you that resists. You’re unsure whether you can call it ‘love’ yet. You’re not sure if you can claim that word yet, not sure if you’re ready to let yourself fully embrace it. The depth of what he’s said, of what he feels, terrifies you. You’ve spent so long second-guessing yourself, so long wondering if you’re worthy of this kind of love, of someone like him. His words are like a mirror, reflecting all the things you’ve been too afraid to believe about yourself.

He doesn’t rush you. “I’ve felt like this for a long time,” he continues, his tone gentle but insistent, like he’s determined to let you know exactly where he stands. “It’s something that’s been building in me for so long, and now just felt like the right time to tell you. You can feel it, can’t you? How much I love you?” His hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing softly against your skin, grounding you in the present.

You nod slowly, your eyes soft, pupils blown wide with a mix of nerves and something deeper, something unspoken but mutual. You lean into his touch, pressing your palm lightly against his. But it’s the silence that lingers between you that catches his attention, and it doesn’t surprise him. He knows you—knows your tendency to retreat inward when the weight of your emotions becomes too much. And he doesn’t take your silence as a rejection.

“You don’t have to say it right now, don’t want you to feel pressured” he says, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss so soft it feels like a promise. “I know you’re not ready.” The fear doesn’t leave completely, but it softens in his presence and at his words. 

He doesn’t push, doesn’t demand anything from you that you’re not ready to give. There’s no expectation in his expression, just quiet patience and unwavering care. His words echo in your mind, weaving through all the doubts and insecurities that have kept you guarded for so long. I’m in love with you. I’ve felt like this for so long. The way he says it makes it clear he’s not waiting for reciprocation; he’s simply giving you the truth of his heart, letting you hold it if you’re ready.

“I know what we have is real for both of us. Until you can say it, I’ll just keep reminding you, hm?” He adds. His voice is a soothing hum, filled with patience and understanding.

“Reminding me of what?” you mumble, a small, teasing smirk tugging at the corners of your lips, your coyness earning a fond chuckle from him.

“That I love you,” he repeats without hesitation, his gaze unwavering. The flutter in your chest is undeniable, and you can’t help but smile through the happy tears that well in your eyes. It amazes you how easily the words roll off his tongue, how unafraid he is to show you the depths of his feelings. For the first time in your life, you feel truly seen, truly worthy of something this profound.

Your fingers thread through his hair, tugging gently as you tease, “But in the photo you posted of me on Instagram, you said you were falling in love with the view—not that you were actually in love.”

A grin spreads across his face, and he matches your playful tone. “I was talking about the view at the beach,” he says, his chuckle warm and light.

You snort, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, right.” You know he was fully referring to you, and the thought makes your cheeks flush.

His teasing melts into something more serious as he shakes his head, his expression softening. His eyes, so full of tenderness, meet yours as he speaks. “Well, for a while, I was trying to figure it out—wondering if I was really in love with the view. But then…” His smile grows, and his hand slips to your waist, pulling you closer. “The view asked me to be her boyfriend, and that made me realize I’d been in love this whole time.”

The sincerity in his voice, the way his words wrap around your heart, makes you lean forward and kiss him deeply. And in that moment, you know without a doubt that this love—this connection—is yours to keep.

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As you step onto campus, it feels like the world shifts around you—your bubble bursts so violently it’s like being jolted awake from a dream. The quiet, warm haze of being with Mark yesterday is gone, replaced by an overwhelming awareness of the world outside. The early morning air is crisp, the sun casting soft golden light over the scattered groups of students. Though the campus isn’t as packed as it will be later in the day, it feels impossibly crowded to you, every sound amplified, every face turned toward you.

Mark had left early in the morning after spending the night, waking you with the lightest shake and a soft kiss on your lips, his voice low and raspy as he murmured, “I’ve got to finish that project—it’s due today.” His touch lingered for a moment before he pulled away, brushing a thumb over your cheek and promising, “I’ll come by later.” Now, without him beside you, the campus felt unusually quiet, the absence of his presence leaving an ache you couldn’t quite shake.

You walk alone, your shoes tapping softly against the pavement, the sound oddly loud in your ears. Eyes seem to follow you with every step, whispers trailing just behind them. It’s disorienting. Yesterday, with Mark by your side, you’d felt invincible—his hand in yours was like a shield, grounding you and keeping the world at bay. But today, without him, every glance, every hushed word cuts through you.

Your chest tightens, and a rush of heat creeps up your neck as your heart pounds erratically. The air feels thinner somehow, and you struggle to draw a full breath. Your fingers tremble slightly, and you clutch at the strap of your bag as though it might anchor you to reality. Your legs feel heavier with each step, the weight of invisible eyes pressing down on you. By the time you near the performing arts building, your head spins, the whispers around you blending into a low hum that grows louder with every passing second.

“Did you hear?” a voice filters through the noise, sharp and distinct enough to make your stomach churn.

“I heard she was with Jeno first…” Mia says, her words cutting through the haze like a blade.

You glance toward the group of girls, their laughter grating as they openly stare at you. Your gaze drops to the ground, unwilling to meet their eyes, but the tension coils tighter in your chest.

“She’s so lucky to have Mark,” Aisha adds, her tone almost admiring but laced with speculation. “But did she really cheat on Jeno with him?”

The word ‘cheat’ sends a jolt of nausea through you. Your pace quickens instinctively, but their voices still reach you, each syllable sticking like thorns in your mind.

“What does he even see in her?” Mia responds, her words ringing louder than the rest.

Your vision blurs slightly, and you force yourself to keep walking, even as your pulse races. The air feels heavier, your throat tightening with every breath. You hear a final mutter, this time from Ryujin, loud enough to be deliberate: “He could do so much better.”

It’s like a punch to the gut, their words echoing in your mind, bouncing off the walls of your spiraling thoughts. They’re saying I cheated. The accusation feels like a foreign object lodged in your chest, sharp and suffocating. Your mind twists and turns, trying to make sense of it, trying to remember every step you took with Mark, every moment you shared with Jeno. Confusion clouds your thoughts. You want to defend yourself, to explain, but there’s no one to listen, no one to tell you what’s true or false anymore.

Your steps falter as the weight of it all pulls you down, threatening to crush you. You’ve never felt more exposed, more vulnerable, and the performing arts building ahead feels impossibly far away. You take a shaky breath, forcing yourself forward, though every step feels like a battle.

Focus on Mark, you reminded yourself, gripping the bag of breakfast tightly as you made your way to the music department. Mark had left in such a rush this morning, his stress about the project radiating off him. You could tell he hadn’t eaten, and the least you could do was bring him something to keep him going. He needs this, you thought, and you need to see him.

As you step into the music department, the atmosphere changes instantly. The bustling energy of the main campus fades, replaced by a quieter, more focused hum. The high ceilings, clean white walls, and warm wooden accents give the building a sense of calm. The halls are lined with soundproof practice rooms, each one a small sanctuary for creativity. You pass students engrossed in their music, their heads bent over pianos, guitars, and laptops, completely absorbed. No one spares you a second glance, and the weight on your chest begins to lift.

This is what you needed. This side of campus feels safe, far from the gossiping whispers and pointed stares. The arts students are too focused on their own work to notice you, and the quiet hum of melodies drifting through the air feels like a balm. You tighten your grip on the bag in your hands and smile when you push the door open to the room he was in. 

He sat at a desk cluttered with audio equipment, headphones on, completely immersed in the layers of music on his laptop screen. The room is spacious, with a sleek desk covered in audio equipment, a keyboard against one wall, and a few guitars propped in the corner. A large monitor displays multiple tracks on Mark’s laptop screen, the intricate layers of his music in progress. The faint glow of the monitor highlights his features as he sits at the desk, headphones snug over his ears, completely absorbed in his work. His fingers fly over the keys, pausing occasionally to adjust a slider on the audio interface. His head bobs slightly to the rhythm, and his brows are furrowed in concentration.

For a moment, you just watch him. He’s in his element, so focused, and it makes your heart swell. Last night’s memory flashes through your mind, the way he’d held you, kissed you, murmured soft words against your skin. The thought sends warmth through you, pushing away the remnants of anxiety from earlier.

“Mark,” you called softly, stepping further into the room, but he didn’t so much as glance your way. A grin tugged at your lips as you took in how absorbed he was, Perfect. Quietly, you tiptoed up behind him and tapped his shoulder, leaning in slightly as you waited for him to jump.

Nothing.

His posture didn’t even shift. His focus was unshaken.

With a dramatic sigh, you sat down next to him, close enough for him to see you in his peripheral vision. “How do you do that?” you pouted, crossing your arms. “You always make me jump when you sneak up on me, but I can’t even get you to blink.”

Mark finally smiled, pulling off his headphones and turning to face you. Without a word, he leaned forward and kissed you softly on the lips, the warmth of his affection melting away your mock annoyance. “Because I’m always ready for you,” he murmured against your lips, his smile widening as he pulled back just slightly, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “Nice try, though.”

His gaze drops to the bag in your hand. “What’s this?”

“Breakfast,” you said simply, placing it on the desk. “I know you didn’t eat before leaving, so…”

His expression softened as he opened the bag and found exactly what he liked: an everything bagel, avocado slices, crispy bacon, and his coffee—medium roast with oat milk, no sugar. He took a bite, followed by a sip, his smile widening. “You’re amazing,” he said warmly, looking at you with so much affection it made your heart skip. “Best girlfriend ever.”

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “I try.”

As he continued eating, you stood, ready to head to class. “I should go. I don’t want to distract you,” you said, already moving toward the door.

Mark caught your wrist just as you started to move away, his touch firm but gentle, pulling you back toward him. “Don’t go yet,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with a soft yearning that made your heart skip. His thumb brushed over the inside of your wrist, a small, intimate gesture that sent warmth spreading through you. “I need recharging.”

“Recharging?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow, though your lips tugged into a playful smile.

He grinned, his eyes glinting with mischief as he tugged you onto his lap effortlessly. His hands settled on your waist, fingers spreading wide against your sides as he adjusted you to fit perfectly against him. “Yes,” he said simply, his voice dropping lower. “You’re my battery, baby.”

You laughed, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck, your fingertips playing with the soft hairs at the nape of his neck. “You’re ridiculous,” you teased, though your heart swelled at how easy it felt to be close to him like this. His presence had a way of grounding you, making the world fade into the background.

Mark’s lips lingered against your temple, soft and teasing as he murmured, “And you love it.” He slid his headphones over your ears, his fingertips brushing lightly against your skin, and hit play. The music enveloped you instantly, a perfect blend of layered harmonies and intricate beats. It was beautiful—raw and unmistakably his. Your eyes fluttered shut as the melody filled your senses, drawing you into the world he’d created. When he finally pulled the headphones away, his gaze was full of quiet anticipation, his lips quirking into a small, hopeful smile.

“I love… it,” you breathe, your voice trailing off into a soft moan. Without thinking, you leaned in, pressing your lips to his in a soft, lingering kiss. His hands cupped your face, thumbs brushing against your cheeks as the kiss deepened, slow and tender at first before turning playful. He nipped at your lower lip, making you giggle, and followed it with gentle smooches along your jawline and back to your lips, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. His warmth surrounded you, grounding you in the moment.

But the sound of the door creaking open shattered your bubble. Both of you pulled away abruptly, your eyes darting to the figure standing in the doorway—Mark’s best friend. She stood there, her expression unreadable, but her gaze flickered between the two of you before settling on Mark with a mix of hope and uncertainty.

“Hey, Y/N, can I have a moment with Mark?” she asked, her tone polite but firm.

You blinked, caught off guard, and nodded quickly. “Yeah, of course.” You started to rise, already thinking that maybe they needed this—time to talk and mend whatever had fractured between them.

But before you could take another step, Mark stood too, his hand slipping into yours as he turned to her. His jaw tightened, and his eyes hardened, the warmth from moments ago replaced by something distant and cold. “No, you can’t,” he said flatly, not even looking at her before he guided you toward the door.

You hesitated, your steps faltering as you glanced back at her. Guilt churned in your stomach, and you gently stopped Mark, placing your hands on either side of his face to get his attention. “Don’t you want to talk to her?” you asked softly, searching his eyes. “It’s a good idea. Just… get everything off your chest. Listen to what she has to say.”

“I’m not interested,” he muttered, his tone clipped, leaving no room for argument. His expression was set, frustration simmering just beneath the surface as his fingers tightened slightly around yours.

Still, you turned back to her, offering an apologetic smile. “Sorry,” you murmured, your voice small before Mark pulled you out of the room, his grip firm yet protective.

Once outside, the tension in your chest only grew. “I can’t believe you still haven’t made up with her,” you mumbled, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. It was hard to ignore the guilt gnawing at your edges. Jeno’s revelation about you and Mark had sent shockwaves through everyone’s lives, exposing secrets and unravelling relationships. The fallout between Mark and his best friend, the strained connection between you and Karina, Jeno’s own conflicts—it all stemmed from the lie you’d told, the choice you’d made.

Mark’s thumb brushed over your knuckles, grounding you again, but the guilt didn’t dissipate. How could you and Mark be so happy, so wrapped up in each other, when everyone else around you was hurting? The thought clawed at your insides.

The tension in the air was palpable as Mark tightened his grip on your hand, trying to reassure you. “Look, one day I will talk to her, but I don’t want to right now. I just want to enjoy my time with you.” His voice was calm, steady, as if trying to convince both you and himself.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the sound of the door creaking open cut you off. She stood there, her expression unreadable as her gaze flickered from Mark to you. Her lips pressed into a thin line before she let out a soft sigh. “Can I talk to you then, Y/N?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Me?”

Mark’s eyebrows furrowed in concern, his hand tightening around yours protectively. “You don’t have to,” he said softly, leaning in as if to shield you.

You shook your head, giving him a small smile to reassure him. “It’s okay,” you murmured. “Go ahead. I’ll see you later.”

He hesitated for a moment, his hand lingering on yours before he nodded reluctantly. “I’ll message you,” he said, his voice low and careful. His eyes stayed on you as he left, clearly uneasy about leaving you alone with her.

You followed her back into the music room, the once-welcoming space now feeling cold and uninviting. The door shut behind you with a soft click, the sound reverberating in the silence that followed. You didn’t know what to expect, but it wasn’t the venom that dripped from her words the moment she spoke.

“This is fucking unbelievable,” she began, her tone sharp and unforgiving. “I can’t believe what I’m seeing. How the hell hasn’t Mark gotten away from you?”

“What?” you asked, the single word escaping you before you could even process her attack.

She didn’t stop. “You’re everything he doesn’t stand for. The lying, the deception, the attention—the negative attention. I’m so surprised he’s still with you.”

Her words were like daggers, sharp and precise, each one finding its mark. You felt your chest tighten, your breathing shallow as you tried to formulate a response. “You don’t know anything about us,” you said quietly, biting your tongue to hold back the surge of emotions threatening to spill over.

Her laugh was humorless, almost cruel. “But I know him,” she shot back, her eyes narrowing as she stepped closer. “I’ve known him since we were kids, Y/N. Trust me, this? This entire thing with you? It’s unlike him. I’m in disbelief that he made you his girlfriend after everything… That isn’t like Mark at all. He doesn’t rush into things.”

The words hit harder than you expected, each one planting seeds of doubt in your mind. You tried to tell yourself she was speaking out of anger, that she didn’t mean it, but the cracks in your resolve were already forming. Your voice was small when you finally responded. “How do you know I’m his girlfriend?”

Hanni tilted her head, an incredulous smile tugging at her lips. “Well, now I do,” she said, a bitter laugh escaping her as she turned on her heel and walked out, leaving you alone in the room with your spiraling thoughts.

The silence that followed was deafening. Her words echoed in your head, relentless and unforgiving. Mark making you his girlfriend isn’t like him. It replayed over and over, each time driving deeper into your insecurities. Your chest felt heavy, your throat tight as tears threatened to spill. You couldn’t stop the doubts from taking root, couldn’t stop the suffocating feeling that maybe, just maybe, she was right.

“He’s been shutting me out,” she said flatly, her voice pulling you from your train of thoughts, she speaks heavy with resentment. “Mark doesn’t do that. He doesn’t just disappear from my life the way he is right now. We’ve had arguments before, but he’s never ignored me for this long. I’m the one who’s always been there for him. But ever since you came into the picture, it’s like I don’t exist anymore.”

“That’s not true,” you said quickly, the defensiveness in your tone giving you away. “Even when we were together, he always found time for you. He hung out with you, checked in on you—he never forgot about you. The only reason he’s shutting you out right now is because he’s hurt. You know that. The whole Jeno situation broke something between you two, and it has nothing to do with me.”

Her eyes narrowed, her arms crossing tightly over her chest. “It has everything to do with you,” she snapped. “If you hadn’t lied about what was going on between you and Mark, none of this would’ve blown up the way it did. You’re the reason he’s pissed off at me. You made this mess.”

You took a step back, the weight of her words pressing down on your chest. “That’s not fair,” you said, your voice quieter now but still firm. “You’re projecting all your anger onto me because you don’t want to face the fact that you messed up. You’re the one who didn’t tell him about you and Jeno. You kept it a secret just like we did.”

Her laugh was short and bitter, her frustration spilling over. “Are you really trying to compare the two? I was protecting my relationship. What were you protecting? A secret fling? A lie?”

“It wasn’t a lie,” you shot back, heat rising in your voice. “Mark and I didn’t even know what we were at first. It wasn’t planned, and it definitely wasn’t meant to hurt anyone. You and Jeno made your own choices, just like we did. Don’t blame me because Mark’s mad at you.”

She shook her head, her gaze cold and unrelenting. “You don’t get it. Mark and I have been through everything together. He’s my best friend. And now, because of you, he’s shutting me out. Do you even know how that feels?”

“I do,” you said softly, meeting her glare. “I know what it’s like to feel like you’re losing someone you care about. But this isn’t about me. If you really care about him, then stop blaming me and talk to him. Own up to what you did. Don’t use me as your excuse for why he’s mad.”

Her lips parted like she wanted to argue, but no words came out. Instead, she shook her head again, her expression a mix of anger and disbelief. “You think you know him, but you don’t. Not like I do.”

“Maybe not,” you admitted, your voice steady now. “But I do know that he’s not shutting you out because of me. He’s shutting you out because he’s hurt. And that’s something only you can fix.”

The silence between you hung heavy, her glare still sharp but faltering. For a moment, you thought she might say something else, but instead, she turned on her heel and walked out, leaving you alone with the echo of her words and the tightening knot in your chest.

You sank into the chair Mark had vacated moments ago, the wood creaking softly beneath your weight. Your hands trembled as they rested on the table, a faint shiver running through your body despite the warmth of the room. You inhaled deeply, trying to steady your breathing, but your mind refused to quiet. Every word, every sharp edge of her accusations replayed in your head like a relentless loop.

You told yourself you’d held your ground—that you’d spoken logically, defended yourself and Mark with the conviction you knew the situation demanded. But her words still cut deep, slicing through your carefully crafted walls. You understood, at least on some level, that she spoke from a place of hurt—hurt caused by Mark’s indifference, by his attention shifting entirely to you. Yet knowing that didn’t dull the sting; it only made the ache sharper, heavier.

Your thoughts spiraled as doubt crept in. Is this too much for him? Are you dragging him down, pulling him into something he doesn’t deserve? Does he regret this? The questions churned in your chest, twisting the knot of frustration and guilt that had taken root there. You curled your fingers into fists, pressing your nails into your palms as if the slight pain could pull you back to reality.

You exhaled shakily, closing your eyes for a moment, willing the chaos in your mind to subside. But her voice lingered like a shadow, her accusations clinging to you in a way that felt impossible to shake.

You knew Mark’s best friend was struggling, torn between her newfound relationship with Jeno and the fallout with Mark. For her, it wasn’t just about the sudden public nature of her relationship; it was the weight of the friendship that had stood the test of decades, now fractured under the strain of secrets and misunderstandings. She had never been in a relationship before, and you could see how she was still figuring it all out—discovering herself as she went. 

Still, the hurt between her and Mark was palpable. Mark, for all his cool demeanor, carried his own weight of sadness and betrayal. You understood why he was keeping his distance—he was trying to approach things logically, to avoid letting fresh emotions lead to more arguments and deeper fractures. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t hurt. She had been his confidant, the one person he trusted to share the depth of his feelings for you without judgment. The fact that she hadn’t reciprocated that same trust stung. Maybe he understood why she hadn’t told him—because of who her relationship was with, and how delicate things used to be between him and Jeno—but understanding didn’t make it hurt any less.

And you? You felt like the weight of it all somehow rested on your shoulders. Even though you hadn’t been the one to drop the bombshell, you felt responsible for the fallout anyway. You hadn’t told Mark because of your promise to his best friend, but seeing the pain in his eyes, knowing how much her silence had hurt him, left an ache you couldn’t ignore. You wanted to fix it, to push them to talk and sort it out, but you knew it wasn’t your place. This was something they had to navigate themselves, and all you could do was hope they would find a way back to each other.

Your chest tightened further, the unspoken weight of their fractured relationship pressing down on you. You felt like you were caught in the crossfire, the burden of loyalty tugging you in opposite directions. And yet, as much as you wanted to help, you knew you had no right to intervene. This wasn’t your story to resolve—it was theirs. Still, the guilt lingered, making it harder to breathe as you stared at the empty coffee cup Mark had left behind, wishing for an answer that didn’t exist.

You pick up Mark’s empty coffee cup, your hands trembling slightly as you toss it into the bin. The sound of it hitting the bottom feels sharper than it should, echoing in the silence left after the confrontation. You take a deep breath, trying to push away the conversation that still lingers like a shadow over your thoughts. But the knot in your chest refuses to loosen.

Needing a distraction, an anchor, you go to find Mark. He’s sitting in one of the other music rooms on the same floor, leaning over his laptop, his fingers typing steadily. When you step in, he looks up almost instantly, his eyes softening as they land on you.

“What happened?” he asks, his voice calm but tinged with curiosity.

You hesitate, shaking your head quickly. “Nothing,” you say, though it comes out too abrupt to be convincing.

Mark furrows his brows, his gaze narrowing slightly as he studies you. You know he doesn’t believe you. He knows you too well, sees you too deeply, and you can feel him reading every flicker of emotion you’re trying to suppress. But to your surprise, he doesn’t push.

Instead, he leans back in his chair, watching you for a moment before turning his attention back to his screen. “Okay,” he says softly, giving you the space you weren’t sure you even needed.

You stay where you are, hovering by the door, your mind still replaying the conversation. It had shaken something in you, and now all you wanted was to bury it, to forget it entirely. Anchoring yourself to Mark felt like the only way to ground the spiraling thoughts in your head, but his silence—his willingness to wait for you to come to him—left you unsettled in a different way.

He must know something’s wrong. Mark always knows. He can see through you so easily, always has, so his restraint is surprising. Maybe he’s giving you time, you think. Space to sort it out and come to him when you’re ready.

He glances at you again as he stands, brushing his hands over his thighs before stepping closer, his presence magnetic and grounding. His hands find your waist, pulling you gently but firmly against him. He rests his forehead against yours for a brief moment, his breath warm as it fans over your lips. “Hey,” he murmurs softly, his tone laced with both curiosity and reassurance. “You okay?”

You nod quickly, even though the answer feels far from true. “Yeah,” you say, forcing a small smile. “I actually need to go to class now. I’ll be late.”

His hands shift, one sliding up your side, his fingers grazing the curve of your ribs, while the other moves to cradle your face. His thumb brushes over your cheekbone, his touch slow and deliberate, like he’s memorizing the way your skin feels under his fingers. “I’ll walk you to class,” he says without hesitation.

You shake your head quickly. “It’s okay, it’s not far from here.”

He laughs softly, the sound warm and familiar. “That’s good, because I do really need to focus on this project.” He leans down, his lips finding yours in a kiss that’s soft at first but lingers longer than it should, his mouth moving gently against yours like he’s trying to tell you everything he can’t say aloud.

When he finally pulls back, he presses another kiss to your forehead, then to your temple, before his hand slides down your arm, his fingers grazing yours. “I’ll see you later at practice, yeah?” he murmurs, giving your hand a light squeeze before letting go. You stand there for a moment, watching him as he steps back toward his desk, the warmth of his touch still lingering on your skin. You nod to yourself, exhaling shakily before stepping out of the room. 

───────────────────────────────

The gym buzzed with the familiar rhythm of practice—basketballs thudding against the court, the screech of sneakers cutting through the air, and the sharp whistle blasts from Coach Suh. The cheer squad was set up at the far end of the gym, practicing their own routines with bursts of laughter and chatter, but your focus was on the game unfolding in front of you.

You had been excited to see Mark at practice, eager to anchor yourself to his calm presence after the tension of the day. But when your gaze landed on the court, that excitement fizzled into unease. The air was thick with tension from the very start, and it didn’t take long to see why.

Mark and Jeno were locked in what could only be described as a silent battle. They were hyper-focused—but not in the usual, coordinated way. Instead of working together, they seemed intent on outplaying each other at every turn. Jeno went out of his way to block Mark aggressively, shoulders colliding in ways that bordered on outright shoving. Mark retaliated by intercepting passes meant for Jeno, his movements sharp and deliberate, as if to prove a point. When communication was necessary, they outright ignored each other, their glares speaking louder than any words.

The sound of the ball bouncing on the hardwood echoed with every quick dribble, but the game itself was messy. Passes were intercepted, plays were broken, and rebounds turned into outright battles for the ball. You winced as Jeno and Mark collided under the basket, neither willing to back down as they scrambled for the rebound. 

It wasn’t long before their frustration boiled over into outright defiance. Mark intercepted a pass meant for Jeno, ignoring his teammate’s call for the ball as he sprinted up the court. Jeno, visibly irritated, blocked Mark hard enough to send the ball flying out of bounds. Instead of a quick reset, they glared at each other, the tension crackling between them.

Coach Suh blew his whistle, the sharp sound echoing through the gym and silencing everyone instantly. He stormed onto the court, his face a mix of frustration and disbelief. “What the hell is going on with you two?” he barked, his voice booming across the gym. “You’ve gone back to square one! You’re supposed to be teammates, not enemies!”

Mark and Jeno stood a few feet apart, both avoiding each other’s eyes. Jeno’s jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling as he tried to keep his cool. Mark looked just as tense, his hands resting on his hips, fingers flexing as if itching to say something. The rest of the team stood frozen, their eyes darting between the two, the tension thick enough to choke on.

“You want to throw this season away? Because that’s exactly where this is heading if you two don’t get your shit together,” Coach Suh continued, his voice cutting through the stillness. “Figure it out, or you’re both benched. I don’t care how good you are—this isn’t about you; it’s about the team.”

The whistle blew again, signaling a break, and the players dispersed toward the benches. You watched as Mark grabbed a water bottle, his movements stiff with frustration. Jeno lingered nearby, pacing slightly, his jaw set in a hard line.

You could feel it before it even happened—the inevitable explosion.

“You gonna keep hiding behind the coach, Lee,” Jeno muttered, his voice low and sharp, “or you gonna play like a man?”

Mark’s head snapped toward him, his brows furrowing as his eyes narrowed. “You’re the one acting like a damn child,” he shot back, his voice louder than Jeno’s but no less tense. “Bringing personal shit into practice? Real mature.”

Jeno stepped closer, his grip tightening on his water bottle. “Personal shit? You mean like you sneaking around with my ex behind my back? Or maybe it’s about you telling me to stay out of your business while you’re all over mine.”

Mark’s jaw ticked, his shoulders squaring as he closed the gap between them. “You’re really gonna stand there and act like you’ve been some innocent saint in all this?” he snapped, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’re the one who can’t keep things professional. I’m here to play, not deal with your goddamn insecurities.”

The exchange was loud enough to catch the attention of the rest of the team, who pretended to stretch or hydrate but couldn’t hide their curious glances. Murmurs rippled through the players, their eyes darting between Mark and Jeno like spectators waiting for the next move in a boxing match.

Coach Suh stormed over, his face red with anger. “Enough!” he bellowed, his voice silencing every murmur in the gym. “Sort your shit out, or get off my court.”

Mark and Jeno didn’t look at each other, their standoff ending as Coach Suh’s words sank in. Mark’s lips pressed into a thin line as he turned away, running a hand through his hair in frustration. Jeno exhaled sharply, his grip on the water bottle tightening before he tossed it onto the bench.

You watched it all unfold, your chest tightening with unease. The tension between them was suffocating, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that things were only going to get worse before they got better.

“What’s going on with Mark and Jeno?” Aisha asked suddenly, nudging your side. Her tone was casual, but her sharp gaze suggested she was already piecing things together.

“I don’t know,” you lied, shrugging and forcing your face to stay neutral. You focused on straightening the hem of your cheer skirt, avoiding her eyes.

But Aisha wasn’t the only one curious. Yiren, standing nearby, leaned in closer. “It looks intense,” she said, her lips quirking into a smirk. “Is it true you and Jeno used to date? And now you’re with Mark?” Her voice dropped into a teasing lilt, her words dripping with faux curiosity. “That’s so messy.”

Yiren wasn’t deterred. “I mean, Jeno’s hot, but Mark?” She let out a low whistle. “How did you even pull him? Like, for real.”

You stiffened, your cheeks flushing hot, the bluntness of Yiren’s words hitting like a slap you hadn’t braced for. You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. Your throat felt tight, constricted by the sudden weight of humiliation pressing down on you.

“Guys, stop,” Chaeyoung said, her voice cutting through the tension. Her tone wasn’t harsh, but there was a pointedness to it that made the others fall momentarily silent. For a split second, you felt a flicker of gratitude—until she kept talking. “Her and Mark are just hooking up though, right? I mean, it would be so much worse if she actually got with him as boyfriend and girlfriend.”

The words sent an icy chill through you, the blood draining from your face. It was like the floor had been pulled out from under you, leaving you standing there exposed and vulnerable. Your eyes darted to Chaeyoung, searching for some sign that she realized how cruel her comment sounded, but she was already looking back at Yiren and Aisha, her expression almost too casual.

You couldn’t believe they were talking about you like this—as if you weren’t standing right there, as if your entire life was just gossip fodder for their entertainment.

“Seriously?” you finally managed, your voice low but edged with disbelief. The words barely made it out, drowned by the lump in your throat.

Aisha tilted her head, feigning innocence. “What? It’s not like it’s a big deal. People hook up all the time. But, like, you guys aren’t actually dating, are you?”

Across the court, the tension between Mark and Jeno reached its peak. Mark stormed off first, his face dark with frustration, the muscles in his jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it hurt. Your heart sank as his eyes briefly flicked to yours. The anger and hurt in his gaze made your stomach twist painfully.

Moments later, Jeno stalked past, his steps deliberate, his posture rigid with barely contained tension. His expression was cold, unyielding, and his gaze stayed locked ahead, not sparing you even a passing glance. Yet, his proximity was enough to make your skin prickle, a sharp, invisible chill creeping up your spine. You could feel the storm of his emotions radiating off him—anger, frustration, maybe even betrayal—all tightly bottled beneath his unreadable mask.

The air around you felt colder as he moved away, like he’d sucked the warmth out of the gym with him. His presence lingered, heavy and suffocating, long after he disappeared into the hallway. The echoes of his retreating footsteps seemed impossibly loud against the muted murmurs that filled the gym.

The cheerleaders had fallen silent, the weight of the scene settling over them like a shroud. Their gazes darted between Mark, who had stormed off moments earlier, and Jeno, who was now gone, before finally snapping back to you. Their stares burned, each glance feeling like a spotlight, their judgment palpable in the charged silence.

Then the whispers started again.

“Wow,” Aisha muttered, breaking the quiet with a tone dripping in mock awe. She leaned slightly toward Yiren, her lips curving into a smirk. “I can’t believe you’re at the center of all this. Must be nice to have two guys fighting over you.”

Their words hit like a physical blow, leaving you frozen in place, your cheeks burning. You couldn’t stay here—not with their judgmental stares and whispered comments suffocating you. “I need some air,” you said quickly, excusing yourself before they could say anything else.

The hallway outside the gym was quiet, the faint hum of the fluorescent lights filling the space. You leaned against the cool wall, willing yourself not to cry, but the tears pricked at your eyes anyway. The guilt, the humiliation, the overwhelming weight of everything—it all felt like too much.

You pushed off the wall and made your way into the nearest bathroom. The door creaked shut behind you, and you stood frozen for a moment before slipping into a stall. Closing the cubicle door, you locked it and sat down on the closed toilet seat, trying to catch your breath. Your hands rested on your lap, trembling slightly as you stared at the tiled floor, your mind racing with the words and stares from earlier.

The silence was short-lived.

The bathroom door swung open, and the sound of footsteps echoed across the tiles. You heard the faint hum of conversation as a group of girls entered.

“I mean, it’s messy as hell,” Aisha’s voice cut through the quiet, casual but loud enough to make your stomach twist. “Jeno and Mark? And she’s just… right there in the middle of it all.”

You froze, your heart pounding in your chest as you realized they were talking about you.

“Exactly,” Yiren chimed in, her tone carrying a hint of amusement. “She’s been playing both sides, whether she realizes it or not. Like, come on, you don’t get in the middle of something like that and act innocent.”

Chaeyoung’s voice joined the conversation, softer but no less cutting. “I mean, people are going to talk. She’s kind of brought it on herself, don’t you think? Dating Jeno first and then Mark? It’s messy, and it looks bad. Of course people are going to notice.”

You clenched your fists in your lap, your nails digging into your palms as the words echoed around you. Each comment felt like a blow, the knot in your chest tightening with every passing second.

But then, Karina’s voice cut through, sharp and firm. “That’s enough.”

The room fell silent for a moment, the tension palpable even from your hidden vantage point.

“What?” Aisha asked, her tone defensive but cautious.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Karina snapped, her voice carrying an edge of frustration. “Mark and Jeno have had problems for ages—long before she was in the picture. This isn’t on her.”

“But still,” Yiren argued weakly, “she’s kind of—”

“She’s kind of what?” Karina interrupted, her tone icy. “Trying to live her life while everyone judges her for shit she can’t control? Seriously, do you even hear yourselves?”

There was a pause, the kind of awkward silence that came when people realized they’d been called out.

“I’m just saying, it looks bad,” Chaeyoung mumbled.

Karina didn’t back down. “And maybe it wouldn’t look so bad if everyone minded their own business instead of turning her life into gossip. You don’t know what she’s dealing with. So just drop it.”

The other girls muttered faintly, their tones subdued now. After a moment, you heard the shuffle of footsteps as they made their way out of the bathroom, the door swinging shut behind them.

You stayed in the stall, frozen, your breath shaky as you tried to process what you’d just heard. Karina had defended you—fiercely, unapologetically—even though you hadn’t expected her to. Even with all the tension between you two lately, she had stood up for you when you weren’t there to do it yourself.

The lump in your throat returned, but it wasn’t entirely from sadness this time. It was something else—a mix of relief and gratitude that left your chest aching.

You stayed in the stall for a few more moments, letting the quiet wash over you, before finally standing and unlocking the door. Your reflection in the mirror looked just as tired as you felt, but there was a flicker of something steadier now, a tiny spark of strength.

Karina’s words lingered in your mind as you splashed cold water on your face, steadying yourself for whatever came next.

You left the bathroom quietly, making sure no one saw you as you slipped back into the empty hallway. You wandered aimlessly until your feet carried you toward the far end of the gym, where you hoped to find Mark. You needed him. Even if you couldn’t explain everything, even if you couldn’t ask him to fix this, you needed him. 

But as you rounded the corner, you stopped in your tracks.

Mark and Jeno were standing near the vending machines, their voices low but tense. You couldn’t make out every word, but their body language spoke volumes. Mark’s arms were crossed tightly over his chest, his jaw set, while Jeno gestured sharply, his expression hard.

You lingered at the edge of the hallway, torn between stepping forward and retreating. The sight of them talking—arguing, maybe—only made the knot in your stomach tighten. You pressed a hand to your chest, trying to steady the ache, but it refused to go away.

For now, all you could do was watch, your heart sinking further as their conversation continued, the tension between them refusing to break.

Mark stood with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his jaw set in a way that made his frustration painfully evident. His stance was defensive but grounded, like he was trying to maintain control of his emotions. Jeno, on the other hand, was a storm. His hands gesture wildly, his tone laced with bitterness and anger, his words cutting even from a distance.

“I started to see you as my brother,” Jeno said, his voice trembling slightly with an edge of anger. “I actually thought we could finally be something after all these years. I thought maybe we could be close, that the distance and bullshit between us didn’t matter anymore. I fucking believed you, Mark. I believed you over my dad.”

Mark’s brows furrowed, his expression softening just slightly. “And we still can be,” he said, his voice even, like he was trying to diffuse the situation before it spiraled further. “We can still be brothers. Nothing has to change, man.”

Jeno’s laugh was short and bitter, the sound echoing in the. “I didn’t believe my dad when he warned me,” Jeno said, his voice low and full of venom. “He told me you’d try to take everything from me—my spot on the team, my friends, my life…” He paused, his eyes narrowing as he leaned slightly closer. “My fucking girl.”

Mark’s laugh came suddenly, cutting through the tension like a crack of lightning. It was sharp and humorless, a sound so unlike him that it sent a chill down your spine. “You mean my girl?” he said, his voice dropping into something almost possessive. He tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable but his tone unmistakably clear. “She was never yours to begin with, Jeno. Not in the way that matters.”

Jeno’s hands balled into fists at his sides, his face twisting with a mix of anger and disbelief. “Don’t bullshit me,” he hissed, his voice sharp and cutting. “You want to stand there and act like this wasn’t about proving a point? Like you didn’t look at her and see another chance to one-up me? To take what was mine?” You just want to prove that nothing I have is safe from you, that you can take away anything I value.”

“You know what?” Jeno continued, his voice rising slightly. “Congratulations, Mark. How does it feel to live in the shoes of the better Lee brother? The one our dad always picked over you? You’ve finally got it all, haven’t you?”

Mark laughed. It wasn’t a happy laugh—it was sharp, humorless, full of disbelief. “You’re so full of shit,” he said, shaking his head. “You really believe this, don’t you? That I’m living to compete with you?”

Jeno crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. “Aren’t you?”

Mark’s response came quickly, his tone hardening. “Believe whatever you want to. At least I’m not drowning in my insecurities. If you think I stole Y/N from you, then yeah, you definitely feel threatened by me, huh?”

The words hit you like a freight train.

Your chest tightened painfully, and your breath caught as Mark’s voice echoed in your mind. You hope he didn’t mean it but the laugh, the lack of a direct denial, the way he didn’t defend you against Jeno’s accusations—it was like a knife to your already fragile heart.

The cheerleaders’ voices echoed in your mind, their careless words stacking like bricks on the weight pressing against your chest. Their gossip, so casual and cutting, played on a loop: how you and Mark were probably just a fling, how messy the situation was, how someone like Mark could have anyone he wanted. But it was his best friend’s earlier comment that hit the hardest, resurfacing now with sharper edges: the observation that it wasn’t like Mark to move so fast into a relationship. The weight of those words settled heavily, twisting your insecurities further, feeding the voice in your head that whispered Mark’s feelings might not run as deep as yours.

Your thoughts spiraled uncontrollably, your dark mind overpowering the light and love you’d been holding onto. Maybe it was true. Maybe Mark didn’t really love you. Maybe this was all some petty way of proving a point to Jeno. The laugh—the way he hadn’t argued against the insinuation—it felt like confirmation.

Your chest heaved as anxiety clawed its way through you, your heartbeat thunderous in your ears. You pressed a hand to your chest, trying to steady the ache, but it refused to go away.

You wanted to burst into the conversation, to scream that they were both wrong, that you weren’t some trophy for either of them to fight over. But your legs refused to move, your throat constricted too tightly to form words.

Mark’s voice brought you back to the present. “You think I care about what you or anyone else thinks?” he said, his tone steady but cold. “You’ve always been so focused on yourself, Jeno, that you can’t see the bigger picture. None of this is about you.”

But to you, it felt like it was. Every word they said cut deeper, even the ones meant to shut Jeno down. Your mind twisted them into something else, something cruel, something that made you feel smaller and more insignificant than ever.

His voice rose slightly, trembling with barely contained frustration, as if every word was dragging up years of resentment he’d kept buried. “All she fucking is to you is a trophy. Another way to show me you’re better. You started screwing around with her behind my back when I was still seeing her. So don’t stand there and play innocent. At least admit it.”

Mark shifted his weight slightly, his hands dropping to his sides as he took a step forward. His voice was quieter now, but no less firm. “Not this fucking broken record again,” he said, a hard edge to his tone. “You fucking broke her heart, Jeno. That’s when we started seeing each other. Don’t twist the narrative just to fit your sob story.”

Jeno’s bitter laugh returned, loud and sharp, his disbelief pouring out of him like a broken dam. “Yeah, because you’re just the fucking hero in all this, aren’t you?” he spat. “You swooped in to save her when I couldn’t. You’ve been waiting for your chance, haven’t you?”

Mark stood frozen for a moment, his jaw tightening as Jeno’s words hung in the air. The silence stretched unbearably, and you could feel your chest tighten, your pulse quickening in the stillness. When Mark finally moved, it wasn’t with the fire or frustration you expected. Instead, he let out a slow exhale, dragging a hand down his face before looking back at Jeno with an unreadable expression.

“Think what you want,” he said quietly, his tone clipped, the words stripped of any emotion. “I’m not here to argue with you.”

Your heart sank.

He didn’t deny it. Not outright. Not in the way you’d desperately hoped he would.

Mark’s posture shifted slightly, his arms falling loosely to his sides, his shoulders tense but no longer squared. He wasn’t leaning forward to make his case, wasn’t stepping into Jeno’s space to defend himself or you. He just… stood there, letting Jeno’s accusations settle like they didn’t matter enough to correct.

“I don’t owe you anything,” he added, his voice low and deliberate.

Your breath hitched. The words felt like a dismissal, not just of Jeno but of everything—of you, of your relationship, of all the things you thought he might stand up for.

Jeno scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief, but you barely registered it. Your attention was fixed on Mark, on every subtle movement, every microexpression that your anxiety twisted into something damning. The way his eyes darted briefly to the side before meeting Jeno’s gaze again. The way his hands flexed at his sides like he was holding something back. The way he didn’t rush to correct the narrative, didn’t immediately say what you needed to hear.

Your thoughts spiraled, crashing into one another in a wave of self-doubt and dread. Maybe this was true. Maybe Mark didn’t care enough to argue because there was nothing to defend. Maybe he had seen you as something to win, another way to prove he was better than Jeno.

Why isn’t he saying more? Why isn’t he stopping this?

Mark’s gaze flicked briefly in your direction—so quick, so subtle, you weren’t sure if he’d actually seen you. But it didn’t matter. He didn’t call out, didn’t soften, didn’t come to find you. He turned back to Jeno with the same detached calm, his voice cutting through your spiralling thoughts.

“Believe whatever helps you sleep at night,” he said, his tone almost disinterested. “If it makes you feel better to think I took something from you, fine. But don’t blame me for the things you lost on your own.”

The words hit hard—not just because of what they meant for Jeno, but because of what they didn’t mean for you. Jeno’s accusations and Mark’s responses felt deeply rooted in their rivalry, a tug-of-war between their insecurities and unresolved history. But none of it felt like it was about you, not really. Mark didn’t defend you, didn’t affirm your place in his life, didn’t even acknowledge the accusations for how they might affect you. 

Instead, his words were focused on shutting down Jeno’s insecurities, on countering his claims, and that made it feel like you were just a symbol in their conflict—another thing for them to fight over. You wanted Mark to say something for you, to fight for you, to make it clear that you weren’t just caught in the crossfire of their issues. But he didn’t. And in the silence, your anxiety whispered the worst possible answer: Maybe you were never the point at all.

You pressed a hand to your chest, trying to steady your breathing, but the ache wouldn’t go away. Your brain latched onto every little thing—the way Mark’s tone lacked warmth, the way he avoided direct confrontation, the way he didn’t once defend your relationship. It felt like confirmation of everything you feared, even if logic tried to tell you otherwise.

He didn’t fight for you.

Your hands trembled as you stepped back, the sound of their voices fading into the background as your thoughts drowned out everything else. You didn’t know how long you stood there, watching, waiting for something that never came. But when Mark finally turned his back to Jeno and walked toward the vending machine without another word, your heart clenched painfully, and you knew you couldn’t stay any longer.

You turned and slipped quietly down the hall, your legs heavy and unsteady as you tried to make sense of the weight crushing your chest. Every breath felt harder than the last, every thought louder, more invasive. You didn’t want to think it, but you couldn’t stop yourself.

Maybe Jeno was right. Maybe Mark never loved you at all.

authors note — hi loves! if you’ve made it this far, thank you so much for reading! it truly means the world to me. i poured so much effort into this, so if you could take just a moment to send an ask or leave a message sharing your thoughts, it would mean everything. your interactions—whether it’s sending an ask, your feedback, a comment, or just saying hi—give me so much motivation to keep writing. i’m always so happy to respond to messages, asks and comments so don’t be shy! thank you from the bottom of my heart! <3

taglist — @bigjugz03 @hyuckkklee @hegdus @sungchannel @kidult0325 @hcluvie @second-floors @xjxnox @keelbeel @hyuckkklee @ahgasezennie @lovetaroandtaemin @steadyparkjisungbookishspy @carelessshootanonymous @remgeolli @toroufriteh @sinsgaybutthatsokay @fancypeacepersona @cathamada @gomdoleemyson @ppeachyttae @strcwberi @yunjinsart @millyswife

[satorusugurugurl]

My Wedding Date is an Escort!

Summary: When invited to your best friend's wedding, you panic. One of the groomsmen, Toji Fushiguro, is your ex-fiancè. Not wanting to deal with probing questions and the embarrassment of being single, your friend Haibara recommends using an Escort! Taking a leap of faith, you book one my, the hottest one. Gojo Satoru is hot, sweet, and funny! The package deal! Men and Women pay thousands to go on a date with him (even more, which he doesn't do often). So when your request comes in, the desperation and pleading tone of your voice. Gojo’s heartthrobs, even more so when you tell him you don't want to have sex.

Pairing: Escort!Gojo x FAB Reader

Word Count: 4,673

Warning: dirty talk, cursing, smutty things, oral sex, fingering

A/N: LEEEET’S GOOOOO!!! Here we go; things are getting spicy and interesting!! If you want to be included in the tag list, YOU MUST HAVE AGE LISTED! Thank you!!

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight

Satoru’s ab’s clenched under the graze of your fingers. His eyes followed those graceful fingers to the button of his jeans. His breath caught in his throat as you unbuttoned them.

“Toru, take me to our room.”

Satoru grabbed your wrist, dragging you out of the kitchen. The dessert you had promised him was long forgotten; the prospect of having you was a million times sweeter. The second you made it to the room, Satoru kicked the door close with his shoe. In a flash of white, Satoru had you pinned to the door, his lips slotting against yours in a hungry, desperate kiss.

One hand gripped your wrists, pinning them about your head, holding them firmly against the door. Satoru groaned against your mouth. His tongue flicked at your bottom lip, eagerly asking for your permission. You obliged, opening your mouth and allowing his tongue to slide against yours.

The faint sweetness of sugar. The traces of vanilla washed over your tongue as you kissed. It was an intoxicating taste; you felt yourself slowly becoming addicted to it. You wanted more. To taste Satoru, all of him.

You gasped as his knee slid between your legs, his thigh pressing up against your throbbing sex. The sensation of being touched like this again, after not being with anyone, had you dizzy and eager for more. Fighting against your hesitation, you rolled your hips over his thigh, pressing your aching sex firmly against him. Your soft whine flooded Satoru’s mouth, making him smirk against your lips as he pulled back.

”Does my thigh feel good, baby?” You nodded as he gripped your hip in his free hand, massaging the skin as he trailed kisses down your cheek. “I fuckin’ knew it. When I kissed you like this back at the bar, your hips twitched when I slid my knee between them. You wanted to grind yourself against my thigh, didn’t you? To use me as your toy, to make yourself cum.”His words hit you like blows to the stomach. Only they weren’t painful. They had your pussy fluttering, clenching around nothing. “Ah ha, there it is.”

”T-There what?”

Satoru took your earlobe between his teeth, gently nibbling on it before he trailed the tip of his tongue over the bite. “You clenched.” Feeling mortified was a bit of an understatement. If you could cover your face with your hands, you would have been. Instead, you made a groaning sound as your cheeks burned. “Hey now,” Satoru’s hot breath fanned over your sensitive ear, “there’s no need to be shy about it; knowing you’re feeling good makes my cock hard.” He rolled his hips, eagerly showing you the growing erection in his pants.

”F-Fuck, y-you’re hard.”

“Mhmm and it’s only half hard.” H-Half hard? He was only half hard, and he was already so big?! “So why don’t you keep rocking those hips for me? Let’s see if you can get me to the point my cock is so hard it hurts.”

Responding to his flirtatious dirty words was something you weren’t capable of doing, at least not yet. So, you instead rocked your hips against his thigh, pressing down a little harder this time. Your clit twitched happily, feeling some friction that wasn’t a toy or your hand for the first time in over a year. The pleasurable sensation had you crying out softly, sending our head rocking back to rest against the wall as you repeated the momentum.

Satoru growled, kissing and nipping at your neck, leaving hickeys in his wake. You let out the cutest little gasps and moans as your hips rocked against him. With each roll of your hips, the more confident you grow. Tentative gentle movements became more focused and centered around your pleasure. Watching how your chest rose and fell, how your skin flushed with the growing arousal, it was enough to have him nearly going feral.

You rocked your hips faster; the seam in your pants was in the perfect place, giving you additional friction over your throbbing clit. You were so wet you could feel your arousal soaking into your panties, and if you kept going at the pace you were, it would take no time at all for you to soak through your pants. Maybe you’d leave a wet spot on Satoru’s pants. Thinking about leaving a mark on him didn’t leave you embarrassed at the prospect, but it urged you to move faster instead.

”Oh, you’re feeling it now, aren’t you?” Satoru cooed and trailed the hand that had firmly been massaging your hips up your body. “You’re such a good girl, rocking against my thigh like this, using me to get off.”

The need to cum all over his thigh was burning at your core, fanning the kindling lust blooming at your core. However, you didn’t want just his thigh. You wanted more of him. To feel his hands on your bare skin, you longed to trail kisses over him like he had done to you. His thigh was just the beginning of you wanting to lose yourself in everything Gojo Satoru was willing to offer.

You were yanked out of your lustful fantasy as Satoru grabbed a handful of your breasts. His fingers gently kneaded the flesh, sending your head rocking forward, your half-lidded eyes drawn to his touch, watching as he groped you. Your nipples hardened under his touch, letting him know just how turned on you were. He hummed, feeling the hardening bud against the palm of his hand. At that moment, feeling you grinding against his leg, groping the soft flesh of your breast, something suddenly hit Satoru like a train.

“Hey, sweetheart,” your hazy eyes met him, “I think we’re wearing far too much clothing.” He released his iron grip on your wrists, and both his hands trailed down your body, toying with the hem of your shirt. “What do you say we make ourselves more comfortable?” his hot fingers dipped under the hem, teasingly rubbing over your bare skin.

No verbal response was given. You instead moved your hands towards his shirt. You slid them down, slowly unbuttoning each button with precise need. The slow, deliberate action had Satoru’s hips rocking forward, cock twitching in excitement. Your perfect fingers hadn’t even touched his skin, graced him with your touch, and he was already panting. Watching you move further and further down his chest, revealing his toned, beautiful ivory skin, was like foreplay.

The kind of foreplay that made him lose his mind.

Satoru growled, pushing your shirt up over your perfect breasts. Your skin was the most beautiful color he’d ever seen, so soft and delicate. His hands ran over your stomach, groaning at the way you jerked under the warmth of his hands. You were getting into it, slowly loosening your grip on your self-control. Witnessing you coming undone was something Satoru longed to see. It was also something he was determined to witness by the time he was through with you.

His long fingers grabbed the fabric of your bra, pushing it up over your breasts. Your breasts bounced, jiggling at the sudden loss of support. The sight had Satoru’s mouth watering. He couldn’t stop himself from leaning down, trailing the tip of his tongue over the curves of your breasts, tasting the sweet saltiness of your skin. You inhaled sharply, watching the white tufts of hair move as he placed open-mouthed kisses up your breasts before he took your erect nipple into his mouth.

”Ah fuck!” You cried out as his expert tongue lapped and swirled around the sensitive bud. “T-Toru~” Hearing that sweet nickname pass breathlessly through your lips had him growling. The vibrations of that had you crying out louder. “F-Feels good.”

Your fingers ran through his hair, gripping the soft strands, tugging him closer to your breasts, silently begging him for more. Picking up on what you wanted, Satour sealed his lips around the bud and sucked hard. You yelped, body hunching over him, your hips pathetically jerking against his leg. While his mouth continued its strategic attack on your nipples, his other hand groped and pinched the other.

”Satoru, oh my god.” The room felt like it was spinning from the amount of pleasure he was giving you. Your legs were beginning to tremble, knees buckling. “T-Toru, bed, l-let’s get on the bed.”

Satoru hummed happily at your request, popping off of your nipple. “I thought you’d never ask.” He walked backward, his hands never once leaving your body.

“God, your hands are so hot, so warm.” You both sank onto the futon before Satoru grabbed your shirt and bra, tugging it over your head. Leaving you bare-chested as he shrugged his shirt off, tossing it to the side

”If you think my hands feel good, wait until I show you what else my mouth can do.”

”Confident, are we?”

Satoru snickered, pushing you back against the bedding. “I promise you, I’m going to make you cum so hard, you’ll see your life flash before your eyes.” His promise had you swallowing dryly at your throat as he trailed his hands over the curves of your body. “You’re so goddamn beautiful, sweetheart.” He whispered as his fingers worked at the button of your jeans. “And your tits.” He learned back over your mounds, eyeing them closely as if he were trying to pick which one to give his undivided attention to.

”What about my tits?”

”They’re fucking perfect.” His tongue lolled out, running the flat over it over your nipple that was only pinched earlier. “They’re so soft, the perfect size for me, god I can’t get enough of them.”

His words struck a particular chord inside of you. He was drunk off your breasts, losing himself in the feel of them, while you felt like you were losing yourself to every part of him. The feel of his bare skin against yours, how the warmth of his mouth had you arching into him, craving more. You couldn’t get enough of Satoru.

Your desire had you trailing a hand down his stomach, sliding over his crotch where his throbbing cock strained. Gojo jerked, feeling you gently rubbing those sinful fingers over his erection. He growled, melting into you, his mouth continuing to work on you while he humped his hips against your hand.

“You’re so hard.” You whined out as you grabbed the shaft, rubbing it a bit harder.

”W-what can I say? I have the world's most gorgeous woman underneath me.” He pulled away from your breast with a grin. “Everything about him is making me high off pleasure; of course, my cock’s going to get hard.” Your thumb rubs over the growing wet spot forming on his boxers. “A-And while I love the face you’re so interested in my cock, I will admit it’s hard to focus on you when you touch me.”

The grave sound of need and lust in his voice gave you a boost of confidence. “Then maybe I should focus on you for a little bit.” Sitting up, you turned, pushing Satoru back against the sheets. He propped himself on his elbows, grinning as you pulled his jeans down.

You swallowed hard as you tossed them to join the other clothes before you tugged down his boxers. Satoru hissed as the cool air hit his hot, twitching cock that smacked against his stomach. It was thick, fat, and long, throbbing eagerly as you stared at it in awe. The head was swollen and red, dribbling pre-cum onto his stomach. Seeing it and seeing the smug smirk on his face had you pressing your thighs together, trying to ease some of the throbbing between them.

”Like what you see?” His cocky tone had you giggling with a shake of your head.

”Yes, it’s such a pretty cock.” He hummed snarky in response. “I wanna taste it.” Your hand wrapped around him, gently squeezing him before you leaned over him, kitten-licking the seeping tip.

“Oh fuck!” Gojo threw his head back with a groan. “I-I wasn’t expecting you to start li-h-haaah!” He gritted his teeth as you took the tip into your mouth, gently sucking him.

His hand gently grabbed the back of your head, fisting your hair as you started bobbing your head up and down, taking more of him—inch by inch into your warm, wet mouth. Hearing him growling and groaning as you began bobbing your head faster, fuck, you were dripping wet. The man was not only handsome and had the prettiest cock you’d ever seen, but he also made the most panty-soaking sounds you’d ever heard.

His deep breaths, the groans and gasps that left his mouth made you want to push yourself, to push him closer to the edge. Satoru panted and groaned, arching his back off the bed, bucking his hips into your mouth as broken groans filled the room, drowning out the gagging wet sound emanating from you. His tip leaked thin dribbles of pre-cum on your tongue. The salty sweetness had you eagerly sucking and jerking him off with your hand.

“Haah, of fuck, oooh, that’s it, sweetheart, that’s it, sweetie, my cock just like that.” Satoru lifted his head, groaning as he watched you bob up and down, those gorgeous lips wrapped around him while your hand moved up and down, slowly but surely working him up to an orgasm. “S-Sweetie, would you be okay with playing with my balls a little?”

You pulled off of him, and a mixture of drool and pre-cum ran down the corners of your mouth. “I-I’ll do you one better.” You gasped out in between pants as you leaned down, taking one of his balls into your mouth, gently licking and sucking on it.

Satoru growled through gritted teeth, his hands fisting into the sheets, head lolling back as you worked on him with your mouth. His grunts and groans had you more and more confident with every teasing lick, suck, and stroke. He was enjoying himself just as much as you were enjoying it.

“S-Sweetheart, god fuck! Fuck you’re doing such a good job, feels good, feels so fucking good.” And he wholeheartedly meant every single word. He’s been with his fair share of people. He left a few beds, but none of his partners in the past came even remotely close to making him feel as good as you did. “I-If you keep this up much longer, I’m going to be coming like I’m sixteen again.”

You perked up and grinned against him, “Yeah? You going to cum?” His words were the extra confidence boost you needed to keep going. “Then cum Toru~” You slowly trailed your tongue over the underside of his cock, moving up the vein.

He saw it before your tongue even touched him. “W-Wait, sweetie! Hold on, don’t I—“The second your tongue ran over the vein, Satoru lost it. “Fuucck! Hnngh!” Cum spurt out of the tip, hitting the side of your face, your hand, and his stomach. After a single lick up his cock. “Oooh fuck, shit.” His head fell back as he panted heavily.

You sat up on your knees, looking at the mess on his stomach and your hand. You giggled triumphantly, reaching for your discarded shirt and wiping your hand and his stomach off. “That was so fucking hot.” You scooped the cum off your cheek before sticking your fingers in your mouth, sucking them clean. Satoru groaned weakly in response. “Are you okay, Toru?” You were giddy over his breathless form.

”Y-Yeah, no, I’m fucking great; I just saw heaven for a second.” He was still panting, trying to regain his breath. “I didn’t think you’d lick there, or I would have warned you that’s my weak spot. I’m sorry- kind of not sorry for cumming on your cheek.” He whined out with a content smile.

”Don’t apologize; it was fuckin’ hot.” You leaned in, kissing the tip of his dick.

“Nngh!” He gasped at your kiss, his still-hard cock throbbing. “S-Sensitive sweetie,” he groaned as a bead of leftover cum prerolled down the head. “I’m really sensitive there.”

You crawled up, lying down next to him. “It was hot, plus it’s nice to know I don’t suck.” Satoru grinned, rolling over, pinning you under him.

“You did suck my cock so fucking good. Your skills are superb.” His head leaned down, kissed, and nipped at your neck. “What kind of gentleman am I? Cumming before my girl even gets a chance.” His crystalline eyes burned into yours. “I guess I’m just going to have to make you cum twice as hard.”

Your cunt pulses at the promise of that. “O-Okay.” You relax against the bed, a smooth sigh leaving your lips.

Satoru purred against your skin as he kissed down your chest. He licked and nipped longingly at your stomach, all the way to your pants. He yanked them down, throwing them behind him. His large hands slid up the calves of your legs before he pushed at your knees, spreading your legs open. A harsh growl sounded from deep down in his throat as he saw the state your panties were in.

The thin fabric was soaked; a dark, wet spot had soaked through those cute panties. The sight nearly had him losing the restraint he had on himself. But after letting out a guttural groan, he slowly began kissing up your inner thighs as he laid on his stomach between your legs.

“God, you look so good, and you smell fucking delicious.” His tongue slowly slid up the wet spot on your panties.

“N-Nggh!” A needy, sharp gasp sounded from you.

“Mmmhmm.” Satoru nodded in approval. “I was right.” He tugged your panties to the side with a starved groan. “You’re are fuckin’ delicious.”

His mouth latches onto your pussy, tongue dipping between your folds, lapping your wet, slick folds. You screamed, your hands digging into his soft locks, tugging and pulling as the tip moved up to your clit. It moved slowly in circles while his hands grabbed your hips, pulling you firmly against his mouth. You cried out, eyes rolling into the back of your head as your hips jerked against his face.

Your cries of pleasure, the way your pussy twitched and clenched, had Satoru swirling his tongue faster. His eyes were locked on your face, watching you, drinking in the expressions that you made, the sounds that filled the room. He drank all of you in, just like you had done to him.

Satoru’s used one of his hands, pushing at your folds, exposing your clit. He lapped at you, from your entrance to your clit. When he reached your sensitive bud, he flicked at it. Hearing the whimpers and sharp intakes of air, Satoru repeated the pattern over and over again. Savoring the way your pussy got wetter and wetter with each flick and lap of his tongue. Not only was it from his spit, but most of it was from you.

You were in heaven, back arching, toes curling. All while your thighs trembled, clamping against Satoru’s head. But as you looked down, meeting those beautiful cerulean eyes, you could tell Satoru was enjoying this as much as you. His eyes were glazed over and dark with lust and need as he ate you out like you were his favorite treat.

You truly were becoming just that to him, too.

Satoru already liked you; he wanted to get to know you more. He’s been texting Suguru about how much fun he had been having with you and how he wanted him to meet you! He could see the two of you hanging out, spending time together. Now that you were hooking up, Satoru knew in his soul he couldn’t let this be a one-time thing.

Things were going a bit out of order, but he’d be damned if he didn’t take you out on a proper date. A real one! He would take you to the nicest restaurant in town. Maybe you could see a show or movie. After that, he’d take you home and eat your sweet pussy for dessert. The thought of just being with you, in a mundane way, had him grinding his lips into the futon.

Satoru wanted you in every way a person could.

“Oooh, ooh, fuck Toru.” You trashed your head back and forth, pulling him out of his fantasy. “T-Toru, I-I think I’m gonna cum.”

He pulled back an inch, “Yeah? Want me to finger you?” You nodded fast, sighing as he sealed his lips around your clit, before pushing two of his fingers inside of you. They curled up, finding your g-spot instantly.

“T-Toru! Toru!” Your body thrashed, legs tighter around his head as his fingers moved in a come hither motion. “Oooh! Fuck! Fuckin’ fuck!!”

“Cum~ cum for me.” Satoru moaned against your clit, sucking on it, nearly sending you off the bedding. “Good girl, make a mess, cum all over my face.”

His words, combined with his skillful tongue and fingers, sent you over the edge. You screamed his name as your back arched, eyes rolling into the back of your head. You came so hard you squirted all over Satoru’s perfect face, just like he had asked you to do. He growled eyebrows furrowed as he licked and sucked everything you offered him, not wanting to waste a single drop.

You were a wheezing, trembling mess of noodle limbs as Satoru’s fingers and mouth slowed their pace. He was easing you down from the most intense orgasm you’d ever had in your life. If that’s what he was able to do with just his fingers and tongue, what could he do with that fat dick of his?

Soft kisses trail back up your stomach and over your breasts before Satoru kisses you lazily. You kissed him back, your hands cupping his face as you both tasted each other. It was strangely and magically intimate, making you desperate for more.

“Sweetheart,” he hummed, brushing his thumb over your cheek, “are you okay? I didn’t send you to the pearly gates, did I?”

“No, I was just thinking.” He tilted his head, fingers gently brushing over your cheek.

“Thinkin’ about what?”

Your hand rested on top of his, your eyes half-lidded. “About how much I want to have sex with you.” Satoru’s back straightened as he choked on his breath. For the first time since you returned to the inn, his face shifted from flirtatious teasing into something more serious.

“Are you sure? You’re positive you want to do this?”

“I’m positive.” You kissed the palm of his hand. “I want to sleep with you.”

He breathed out a heavy sigh, pressing his forehead against yours. “Sweetie, just because I like you and that we did all this other stuff doesn’t mean we have to have sex.” The gentleness of his tone and sincerity had you melting into his touch. “I want to, god, I fuckin’ want it. But please know we don’t need to do it if you don’t want to.” Satoru had listened to you about how you didn’t need or want to have sex. He was taking your words to heart, which made your heart flutter.

“Toru, you may not need it, but I want it.”

“Okay, okay,” he groaned, kissing you desperately, “I need a condom. I-I—“ he gave an embarrassed chuckle, “I didn’t pack any since I didn’t think I needed one.”

You sat up, putting on his shirt, “Luckily for us, I got a party favor bag at the bachelorette party. One filled with all different kinds of condoms, penis candy, the whole works.” You tried to stand, only to be yanked down.

“I’ll get it. Where is it?” He yanked his shirt off of you. “Stay naked.”

“In the kitchen, it’s in my purse.”

Satoru slipped his boxers on and bolted out of the room. He returned two minutes later with your bag and a bowl of strawberries and whipped cream. He handed you the bowl before tossing his boxers off.

“I just thought we could use a snack!” He grinned, offering you a berry. “Keep our strength up.”

“Mhmm!” You took it, chewing it. “You’re so smart.”

“The strongest and the smartest!”

You opened your bag as you swallowed, and you froze as you stared inside of it. Seeing your reaction, Satoru cocked a bow as he held a strawberry between his teeth. His eyes followed yours, and the berry fell from his mouth. Inside your purse was money, lots and lots of money. Money you knew for a fact hadn’t been there a couple of hours before.

Satoru took the bag, pulling the stacks of money out while you searched the rest of your bag, ensuring your wallet and cards were still there. The entire time, Satoru was silent, his eyes darkening as he thumbed through the bills, counting them. You sighed in relief once you made sure everything you needed was still there before pulling your party favor bag out.

“Hey,” Satoru turned to you. You were met with a dark, unreadable expression. A look that you’d never seen before. “Why do you have ¥240,000 in cash?”

“I-I’m sorry?”

“¥240,000, you know, the same amount I charge for sex.” His voice was dark and full of pain. “Is this why you ‘want’ to have sex?” Grief flickered in his eyes as his jaw clenched.

You dropped the party bag, reaching for his hand and holding it. “T-Toru no! I-I wouldn’t do that! I wasn’t—” He yanked his hand away from you, rubbing it furiously over his undercut.

“Did you just want to fuck, to get over your trauma with some random guy? An escort? Pay me off like nothing happened?” He laughed coldly, his heartbreaking, shattering. “Because that’s my fucking job, so it’s okay.” He turned to watch you, see what you had to say.

“Satoru! I would never do that!” Your nose burned, and your eyes filled with tears as Satoru grabbed the money.

“Then why the fuck is the exact amount for a sex session with me in your purse? Tell me, why do you have this money?”

He waved it in front of your face. All you were capable of doing was looking between him and the money. You didn’t know what to say or how to respond. Which made you look guilty. Your silence had Satoru clenching his jaw as he ground his teeth together. He pushed himself off the bed, knocking the red berries over onto the white sheets as he put his clothes back on.

“I can’t fucking believe this.” He grabbed his cell phone, suitcase, and wallet. “Un-fucking-believable.”

You followed him, crushing some of the berries under your feet as you put your shirt on. “Satoru, wait!” He flung open the door to the room, rushing out as you slid on some shorts. “Toru!” You screamed, stumbling as you ran after him. “Satoru! Please, I didn’t do it!” You grabbed his arm, trying to stop him.

“Didn’t do what?!” He snapped back, yanking his arm away from you.”Didn’t put that much fuckin’ cash in your purse?! As if I believe that shit! I don’t even fucking know you! Like really know you! How do you expect me to believe you?!”

“I-I don’t know how it got there, Satoru! Please! Please believe me!”

He barked a bitter laugh, shaking his head as he stormed out. “Good luck with your stupid fucking wedding! Oh, and consider your orgasm as payment for the cancellation of my services!” You stood in the inn's corridor, tears running down your cheeks as you watched the best thing that ever happened to you walk away.

Life truly fucking hated you to the core.

Tag List: (AGE MUST BE IN BIO)

@arminloverlol @jamzywiththejam28 @gojoful @maskedpacific @ahseyy @kash77 @sadmonke @ari-maccha @sugurubabe @hyori2 @bluechocolatemint @itsinherited @dellappatca @therealestpussyeater @dead-at-tokyo @nvrgojover @drakenswifeyy @nealeart @yunho-leeknow @fire-child-kira kira @faeryminnyx @tqd4455 @harmonyflora @volkins181-blog @noukstmblr @lovley212 @stinkinstuffie @desihopelessromantic @witchbybirth @sonicsolos @lilbiguy @supsiii @rentheannihilator @bloopsstuff @pepepepepopopopo @pandoness @sw33cadav3r @rixo-19 19 @meguvmii @sxnkuna @mmeerraa @lemonintrovert01 @bunny-lily @kibananya

[v6quewrlds]

❝ birthday boy, a. iosivas. ❞  ‎ ‎ ┉  

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀summary: the birthday boy's turning 25. it's only right he gets his present.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: okay so boom, storytime. this idea hit me exactly five hours ago after i saw a clip of troye giving vinnie a lap dance on tour. immediately thought about subby!andrei which is perfect bc i wanted to write a bday fic for him anyways. so i hope y'all enjoy. she's short and sweet <3

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: smut, please do not interact with my work if you are under 18. language, sexual content, lap dance, grinding, handjob, blowjob, a hint of sub!andrei, description of ejaculation.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: andrei iosivas x reader.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 1.9k.

You stepped out of the shower, the steam enveloping your naked body like a warm embrace. The scent of vanilla and musk filled the air, a tantalizing hint of what was to come. You toweled off with a hum to yourself, your passion twists clinging to the dampness as you walked into the bedroom, your bare feet whispering on the plush carpet. You glanced at the bed, where Andrei, your boyfriend, lay sprawled out, scrolling through his phone.

He looked up at you, his brown eyes smoldering as he took in your freshly scrubbed skin. "You're killing me, baby," he murmured, his hand unconsciously adjusting his growing erection through his pants. "I can't wait for this surprise anymore."

You giggled, your full lips curving in a knowing smile. "Patience, birthday boy," you sang, your voice a velvety purr. 

You strutted over to the dresser, your naked curves swaying with a seductive grace. From the top drawer, you pulled out a black lace lingerie set, holding it up against your body in the mirror. The reflection revealed your dark areolas and the promise of more to come. You slipped on the lingerie, feeling the material hug your curves like a second skin.

Andrei's eyes followed your every move, his breath hitching as he watched you change into your underwear. His dick strained against the fabric of his pants, a silent plea for release. You noticed his struggle and couldn't resist a little tease. You turned to face him, throwing your passion twists over your shoulder without a word before reaching for his Bluetooth speaker on the nightstand.

Andrei's eyes widened in anticipation as you reached for his phone, the light from the bedside lamp casting shadows across your body, making you seem to glow. Without a moment of hesitation, he handed it over, your manicured fingers navigating to Spotify. You hit the play button and a sultry R&B melody filled the room.

The first notes of your sex playlist hit the air, a bass line that vibrated through his chest and straight to his lower half. His eyes never left you as you turned the volume up just right, a knowing look on your face. He recognized the first track immediately, your favorite song that never failed to set the mood.

You strutted back over to the bed, your hips moving to the rhythm as if the music lived in your very bones. Andrei's eyes traced the lines of your body, the silk of your skin glistening under the soft light. He cursed to himself, his gaze devouring every inch of you.

"Sit up," you ordered, gesturing to the edge of the bed. Your tone was playful but firm, leaving no room for argument. Andrei did as he was told, his legs trembling slightly as he followed your command, his heart racing.

You positioned the speaker just right, ensuring that the music surrounded you both. You stepped closer, your movements fluid as water, and began to sway in front of him. The beat of the song matched the rhythm of your hips, which rolled in a mesmerizing dance that made Andrei's mouth water. You placed one hand on his shoulder, your nails digging in slightly as you ground yourself against his thigh. He released a breath, his cock jumping in response.

Your other hand trailed down your body, teasing your skin as you moved. Andrei watched, his eyes following the path you took, his own hand twitching with the desire to do the same. The room grew hotter, the air thick with lust as the music grew more intense.

The second song began to play, an impossibly slower song. You stepped closer to Andrei, your thighs parting to straddle him. You placed your hands on his shoulders, your nails digging in slightly as you began to grind against him. He groaned, his dick straining against you, desperate for contact.

"Take your pants off," you breathed, your voice low and commanding. 

Andrei's hands shook as he unbuckled his belt, his eyes never leaving yours. He slid his pants down, revealing his boxer briefs, the fabric tented with his arousal. You licked your lips, a wicked glint in your eye.

Your hands traveled down your stomach, your fingertips grazing the edge of your lace panties. Andrei could see the dampness already soaking through the fabric, a testament to your own desire. He groaned, his hips bucking up to meet yours as you slid closer, your wetness brushing against him.

"Not yet," you whispered, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. 

You leaned in, your breath hot on his neck as you kissed him lightly. Your teeth grazed his earlobe, sending a shiver down his spine. "First, the full show."

The music was a siren's call, guiding Andrei's eyes as they traced the lines of your body. He watched, his breathing ragged, as you reached behind your back and unclasped the bra. It fell away, revealing your firm, round breasts. They bounced slightly as you moved, your hardened nipples peaked with arousal.

"You're so beautiful, princess," he murmured, his voice thick with need.

You giggled, the sound low and throaty. "Thank you, Drei," you said, leaning in to kiss him, your breasts pressing against his bare chest. Your hand snaked around to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. The kiss grew deeper, your tongue slipping into his mouth to tangle with his. Andrei groaned, his hands sliding around to cup your ass, his thumbs grazing the damp fabric of your panties.

The third song kicked in, a rhythmic bass that had you both grinding against each other. You pulled away, a glint of mischief in your eyes. You stepped back, placing a hand on his chest to keep him seated as you turned around. You bent at the waist, your ass high in the air as you slid the panties down, revealing your toned backside. You looked over your shoulder, your eyes sparkling with excitement.

Andrei's breath caught in his throat as you stepped out of the lace, leaving it in a pool at your feet. He took in the view of your bare pussy, already glistening with excitement. The music grew more intense, and you began to dance again, your movements slower and more deliberate. You knelt to your knees, your ass swaying as you grabbed the base of his cock through his boxers, your nails scraping gently along his length.

He groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head as you began to tug at his boxers. Inch by torturous inch, you revealed his hardened shaft, until it sprang free, standing proudly against his stomach. Your hand wrapped around it, your grip firm but gentle as you began to stroke him in time with the beat.

Andrei's hands clenched the bed, his chest heaving with each stroke you administered. The room was alive with the throb of the bass. Your grip tightened, your thumb tracing the precum beading at the tip of his cock. You leaned in, your warm breath fanning over his shaft, and whispered, "You want me to suck it?"

"Fuck yes," he hissed, the words barely leaving his mouth before you took him into your mouth, your lips wrapping around him like a warm, wet glove. Andrei's eyes rolled back in his head, the sensation of your tongue swirling around his head nearly sending him over the edge. You sucked him deep, your cheeks hollowing as you took him to the back of your throat. The sight of you eagerly pleasuring him was almost too much to handle.

Your hand kept rhythm with your mouth, your nails lightly raking his thighs as you worked him. Andrei's hips began to move, thrusting up to meet your mouth, his control slipping away as the music swelled around the two of you. You moaned around his cock, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through him. He watched in the mirror across from the bed, his muscles tensing at the sight of the back of your head bobbing up and down his length, your twists flowing down your back.

The music grew more intense, and you pulled away, panting. "Take these off," you demanded, pointing to his boxer briefs. Andrei complied, his cock bobbing free as he kicked the material away.

You straddled him again, this time with your slick pussy pressing against his thigh. Andrei groaned, his hands reaching for your hips, but you slapped them away playfully. 

"Not yet," you purred, your breath warm and sweet. Instead, you reached for his chin, tilting it up to meet your gaze.

Your eyes searched his tensing features, the music a pulsing heartbeat in the background. Andrei's own heart hammered in his chest, his anticipation a tangible force in the air. You leaned down, your breasts brushing against his chest, and kissed him hard. Your hand wrapped around his throbbing cock, stroking him from base to tip in time with the beat of the music.

"I wanna give my birthday boy the best present," you murmured, your voice a siren's whisper that sent another jolt of need through Andrei's body as he moaned painfully. You continued your movements over his shaft, watching as he groaned out. 

His brown eyes closed as he whispered, "You're the only present I need, baby."

"Gonna come for me, birthday boy?" You taunted, your hand moving faster, your thumb circling the sensitive ridge of his head. Andrei's eyes snapped open, meeting yours, and he nodded frantically, unable to form words through his lust. The room was a symphony of his heavy breathing and the bass of the music, your bodies moving in perfect sync to the rhythm.

"Come for me, Drei," you encouraged, your strokes now a blur as you watched him, his eyes locked on yours. His hips bucked, his body begging for release. He was so close, so very close.

And then the dam broke. Andrei's body tensed, a moan ripping from his chest as he came, spurts of hot cum landing on his stomach and chest. You slowed your movements, your hand milking him through the last of his orgasm, watching with a smug smile as his cock twitched and spasmed in your grip.

The music switched to a new song, something slower, more sensual, as you climbed off of him. You stood to your full height and leaned down to kiss him again. He tasted himself on your lips and groaned as you deepened the kiss.

"I love you," Andrei murmured against your mouth, his breathing still heavy. Your smile grew wider as you broke the kiss, your eyes sparkling with satisfaction. You leaned over him, your breasts brushing against his chest as you reached for a towel, his hands reaching to steady your hips. You wiped the evidence of his release from his body, your movements gentle and tender.

"Thank you, baby," Andrei managed to say, his voice still thick with pleasure. Your eyes softened as they met his, a soft smile playing on your lips as you leaned back in to kiss him again, your tongue dancing with his in a slow, passionate dance.

"I love you too, baby. Happy birthday," you murmured against his lips, your breath sweet and warm. Andrei's eyes fluttered closed as he savored the taste of your mouth, feeling a sense of peace wash over him, the afterglow of his climax lingering as his muscles relaxed.

[stargirlrchive]

INVISIBLE STRING — CASSIAN!

pairing: cassian x morrigan (half) sister reader

notes: :3 hi hi this is so scary. i haven’t posted a full thought out fic in probably a year (crazy) and i would like to say i have not finished the series so if timeline is inaccurate and just plots don’t make sense w canon it’s bc im still on acowar :p but cassian has taken over my brain and i can’t get him out of it !!!! c: part two is already being worked on bc im so proud of her. i hope u all enjoy it <3 ++ i know mor is described as being blonde and fairly pale in complexion which is why i made reader her half sibling, and there are no descriptions of reader’s physical attributes bc i wanted to kept it as neutral as possible :3

cw: angst, hurt no comfort (yet?), azriel’s shadows being the biggest cassreader shippers ever, unrequited love but really it’s just idiots in love. also mentions (brief) of abuse from keir (gross!)

Your fingers nervously fumbled with the straps of your leathers. Heart pounding in your ears as you forced yourself to drop the nervous jitters, fingers balling into tight fist to stop their trembling.

It had been a long time since you had last seen your family. A long time since your gaze met violet eyes, or your nose scented cedar wood and night chilled mist. The lingering scent of sea salted water and citrus, and fresh paint and vanilla, and sweet wine and roses had nearly erased from your memory. But what you missed the most was the red gleam of siphons that glowed ruby red under certain light.

Truly, in an immortals life time half a decade was just a blip in time, minuscule, but you had never been gone this long from them. Especially not from Rhys, Az, Mor, and Cassian, with the exception of Rhysand’s imprisonment under the mountain.

You blinked away the burning in your eyes as you pushed open the doors of the town house. Soft chatter growing cold at the unexpected intrusion. You had barely enough time to register everyone seated at the table when shadows were zooming past their master to greet you excitedly.

Nuzzling into your hair and neck and arms. Azriel’s shadows had always been so fond of you. Whispering and singing in your ear in a language you could not understand.

They tugged you forward, until you were stumbling clumsily as they dragged you towards Cassian. An ache settled deep in your chest as you fought against them gently, moving between Azriel and Rhys. You missed the flash of hurt in hazel eyes as you avoided him.

Five years later and he still didn’t know the truth of your departure. Before your thoughts could send you spiraling, Rhys’ voice called your name. An undeniable smile in his voice before his arms were enveloping you, “Cousin, you’re back.”

“I am.” Your throat felt thick, tongue heavy as you fought back tears. His scent had always comforted you, Rhys had given you and Mor a chance. A lifeline in the sea that you were drowning in, in Hewn City.

Two sisters, both forced into a world that was cruel and unkind. Morrigan as rightful Heir of Keir had experienced the brunt of it all. From being stuffed into tight dress, to being pranced around in front of grimy men, and nearly forced into a life with a male whose family’s cruelty knew no bounds.

Your torment had been in forms of neglect and isolation. Your father had never much cared for you, being a product of affairs, his bastard, he left you alone. Barely acknowledged your presence when at the mere age of nine you were thrown into his arms from your mother’s father, stating you were no longer his responsibility since your mother’s death. Your father’s neglect, you now realized, had been a blessing.

You were Mor’s shadow. Clinging to her as any younger sister would. Always causing trouble until you learned to obey. Mor never let you experience the abuse from your father fully. Always taking the blame, always hiding you. You owed her and Rhys, your family, everything.

There was a soft clearing of a throat that pulled you and your High Lord apart. Shadows greedily pulling you to face everyone else. Azriel’s hazel eyes assessing you, looking for any injuries before his fingers were squeezing your elbow gently. A soft hello.

Your eyes flickered around the room, and you realized just how much had changed. Your High Lady, and dear friend seated at the head of the table, Rhys by her side. Besides him sat Azriel and then Elain.

Your throat tightened as you allowed your eyes to flicker to the other side, Nesta beside Feyre, and Cassian beside her. Amren had most likely skipped out dinner to enjoy the privacy of her apartment, and Mor was no longer around. Preferring to spend her time on the continent.

The golden thread that tied you to the Lord of Bloodshed sung loudly and happily in your chest. Five years since you had last laid eyes on him and the feeling alone nearly brought you to your knees.

Your eyes flickered away from Cassian, ignoring the way your heart and soul begged you not to. “Is my room still available?”

Feyre sent you a soft smile, sad really, as she realized how desperately you wished to find some peace and quiet. She knew of your affections for the General, and how you had never told him only to watch him fall in love with her sister.

“Of course it is, but you should join us.”

You swallowed roughly at Rhys’ words, unable to stop the gnawing pain in your heart and the cruel words circling in your mind. Cassian was not yours, he had never been and it was unfair of you to expect him to love you the way you had always yearned for him too. But it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt, it always fucking hurt.

“I’m quite tired, maybe tomorrow.” Rhys didn’t push, just affectionately tucked your hair behind your pointed ear and let you go.

Your steps were quick, hurried and Cassian’s voice sounded like smooth velvet as he called your name. You didn’t stop, your knees nearly buckling under your weight as you forced yourself to keep walking.

Mumbling a quiet, “Goodnight,” before disappearing into the hallways in search of your bedroom.

During your five years away at Day the turmoil in your heart had eased, if only slightly. Cassian would unintentionally send his emotions down the bond, and it seemed it always happened when your heart had finally let you rest.

When you finally saw light at the end of a never ending tunnel of despair, the mating bond would reel you in, viciously and unforgiving. You were sure you were being punished.

How dare you ever try to question what the Mother wanted for you?

Being back in Velaris, being back home, felt so much worse. With the distance, even when his emotions poured into your very bones, it felt weakened. Less tethered to you.

But now? Now you felt his sorrow so deeply tears fell freely down your cheeks.

You had only been trying to sleep for a few hours, your rest had been fitful at best, anxiety prickling at your fingertips as you threw the warm blanket off of you. You needed air. You needed clarity.

Your feet moved on their own. From what you last knew there were no longer many residents here. You were careless in thinking so as your feet moved hurriedly through the house and out into the garden.

Filling your lungs with air as tears prickled at your eyes, the cold nipping at your skin as you sunk into one of the benches placed around the area.

You had only been in his presence for a mere five minutes and your heart was already waging a war against you.

Maybe you could convince Rhys to send you off once again. Your years away at Day had been filled with research and insight, maybe you could do the same at Dawn. Or any other Court that wasn’t here. Gods, you’d even take the forsaken libraries in the Hewn City if it meant not being here. You’d beg if you had too because this, this was too much.

You let out a shaky breath as your mind ruthfully plagued you with memories of the past. Of your utter devastation of hearing that Mor had slept with Cassian.

Of the guilt you felt after, when you avoided her in anger and utter jealousy and then told of the way she was savagely left to die.

You would never forgive yourself.

Remembering when you realized you were utterly and hopelessly devoted to your life long friend, and learning to live with just having a small part of him for you.

Hoping and praying to the Mother that he’d love you back. Hoping to see a spark of honeyed warmth, or a lick of jealousy when you found solace in the warmth of another. Anything, you prayed and prayed, but she never answered.

Not until you had pinned him down on the training matt, wings sprawled out beneath him as you stared at him smugly. A soft, primal, smirk on his face as he gripped your thighs. “You’re getting better.”

Your laughter filtered through the open area, “Only ‘better’? I just kicked your ass.”

He grunted, tugging you gently and in a quick succession of movements had flipped you over, pinning you to the ground. His thighs caged over yours, pinning your hands above your head as he sent you a toothy smile.

The wind that had been knocked out of you was not due to the fact your back had hit against the matt, but because something snapped inside of you. An invisible golden thread, darting from your chest to his, so visceral you could almost taste it, singing happily at finally being acknowledged.

But he gave no indication that he had felt the mating bond snap into place, “Yes, ‘better’. Because you should know not to let your guard down.”

Your speechlessness could’ve been a product of being bested in sparring, your mind racing with things to say but nothing came out.

The fog that had formed in your brain cleared at the bark of laughter that left Azriel, “If you two are done flirting, get back to sparring or leave the ring.”

You don’t remember what excuse you used to suddenly needing to leave but you did. Hope sparkling in your chest at what you thought was an answered prayer by the Mother. He was yours, just as much as you were his.

Only for the ember to burn to ash quickly, as two nights after Cassian had come to you looking for guidance on how to court Nesta.

You tried so hard, pushing down the mating bond that roared and screamed in utter agony as he spilled to you his affections for the eldest Archeron.

Your heart stuttering and begging for release of this pain as your mind caught up to you. He’d never see you. He hadn’t before, so what would be so different now? What would suddenly make you worthy in his eyes? The mating bond?

You realized quickly that you didn’t want that. Didn’t want him to love you just because fate decided to pair you together. You wanted him to love you, to yearn for you the way you had for him without something telling him to.

So with a forced smile you consoled him. Running your fingers through his hair and giving him advice on how to win her heart.

Some days you cursed yourself for that night. You wished you had been selfish and told him he was yours. But then the guilt would settle and you knew you’d never have the heart to force that onto your dearest friend.

In the end all you wanted was his happiness, if that was with someone else then you’d have to learn to live with it.

It had all led up to the night where you accidentally walked in on Nesta and Cassian in the kitchen at the House of Wind, lips and tongues tangled.

The mating bond felt like it was burning you alive from the inside out, angry and volatile as it blamed you for pushing him into her arms.

You’re not sure how you ended up in Rhys office, your face pressed into him as your fingers tried to claw at the hurt in your chest, “Make it stop, Rhys. Gods please, just make it stop.”

He had never seen you like this, never seen you in such despair as he tried to calm you down. He didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to help you.

Only held you in his arms and sang a lullaby his mother had always sang to the three of you as children. Your desperation and pain eased and numbness eventually coated your insides.

“Send me away.”

He hesitated, wiping your tears as Feyre’s soothing touch caressed your back. His violet eyes shining with hurt and concern for you, “What are you running from?”

Your thoughts were interrupted by the deep timber of a voice you were so familiar with,“Is it just me, or are you avoiding me?”

Heat quickly ran from your skull down to your spine at the velvety voice that belonged to Cassian. Your back tensing uncomfortably as you turned to look at him.

You refrained from letting your eyes glaze down his form. Bare chested and wings lazily held up as his brows furrowed when he took you in.

“Cassian-what are you doing here?”

You stood up from your seated position as he moved closer. His eyes never leaving yours, “Here as in the gardens or here as in my home?”

Your brows furrowed, were he and Nesta now permanently in the town house? It would’ve made sense, seeing as they were all here, having dinner earlier.

“In-in the gardens.”

His lips twisted up into a small quirk of a smile, his eyes lingering on your face as if trying to reacquaint himself with your features.

Your heart lurched to your throat as his gaze lingered on your lips before he looked back into your eyes. “I heard you walking around. Wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“How did you know it was me?”

His lips tugged into a proper smile this time, “Who else could it be?”

He couldn’t bring himself to tell you that he’d long ago familiarized himself with the sound of your steps.

Your brows pinched together, full lips tugging into a small frown, “Where is everyone else?”

“Elain is most likely off in Lucien’s apartment, Azriel is at the House of Wind.”

And despite yourself, you asked, “And Nesta?”

Your throat bobbed softly, heart already preparing itself to hear that she was tangled in his sheets in his room. A soft shrug came from him, muscles flexing deliciously at the movement, “Probably with her mate.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest at his words. Her mate? You were sure the confusion was evident on your face as Cassian laughed. “It’s a bit unfair isn’t it? She was made a measly six years ago, and she’s found who her soul is tethered to, while we’ve been around for centuries and have no luck.”

“Lucky her.”

He hummed, eyes glazing over your face and the look in his eyes was unrecognizable. Warm and honeyed. It made your stomach twist and turn into uncomfortable knots.

“I should go to bed, Cassian. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You made to walk away from him, but his rough fingers wrapped around your forearm in a touch that could only be described as gentle. When you finally looked up at him his brows were pinched together in confusion, and hurt.

“What’s with the full name?”

“It’s yours, isn’t it?”

His eyes narrowed slightly at your words, “You’ve used it on me twice in the span of a few minutes. I’m never ‘Cassian’ to you.”

A stretch of silence passed between the two of you, you didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know how to act around him anymore.

Gods, you had come around to the idea of seeing him tangled with Nesta. But you were back and he was single. Or at least not with her and you don’t know what you feared most.

That your heart would take this as hope and yearn for him, and watch him fall for another, or to finally tell him how you felt. If it would even mean anything to him, if he’d even want you.

You couldn’t do it, you wouldn’t. You refused to let hope spark in your heart when he had already tangled himself into your very being like overgrown ivy. You don’t know if you’d survive any more rejection.

His voice was softer this time, thick fingers cupping your cheeks and jaw, forcing you to look at him, “You were gone five years and I can barely get five sentences out of you before you’re running away from me.”

Tears stung behind your eyes as your throat tightened at the hurt twinging his voice. It took everything in you to not soothe the crease between his brows, your body tensing softly as his thumb caressed your bottom lip gently, “If I have offended you, or hurt you some how tell me how to fix it. I have been waiting for five years for your return and I cannot stand to think that this whole time you were away you were angry with me.”

You wished you could speak, but your tongue felt heavy. The hurt in his eyes turned to something akin to despair at your silence, his hands dropped from caressing your face to hang loosely by his side, his wings slumped against the floor.

You let out a shuddering breath, forcing yourself to look away from him, “I should go to bed.”

And this time he didn’t stop you.

Weeks had trickled by so slowly since your return to Velaris as you tried to find your place back in your home court.

You had never been particularly good at fighting, your strength came from your knowledge. Books and literature had been something you had clung to as a child and it never left you.

You digested text in a way the inner circle did not, memorized details and names and faces others struggled with. But that did not mean Azriel was any easier on you when it came to training.

The muscles in your abdomen ached painfully, your arms felt heavy and filled with sand as he squared up once more. “I need a break.”

“You need to focus.”

A whine ripped from your throat in protest, Az’s shadows peppering cooling kisses and caresses on your skin to try and comfort you. “Just a few minutes. Please?”

“You think if someone were to try and attack you, they’d spare you if you whined like a petulant child?”

At your silence and glare he continued, “Didn’t think so.”

Your fingers balled into fist as you readied yourself, your muscles heavy with exhaustion as you threw punch after punch his way. “Remain focused, let yourself do what feels instinctual.”

You were sure you would’ve passed whatever Azriel’s standards were had his shadows not wrapped around your legs. Tugging insistently and trying to drag you away.

You heard Azriel’s noise of protest as he tried to rein his shadows back but they refused. Your head turned towards the direction in which they were tugging you in only to be met with Cassian’s warm hazel eyes already on you.

With an accidental misstep you were tumbling forward, falling far too quickly to catch yourself. Your head ringing harshly as the side of your face smacked against the mat.

Someone called out your name in a panic, and you missed the way Cassian had roughly pushed Azriel away from you as he turned you around.

His eyes frayed with worry as your eyes remained unfocused, “Can you look at me, dove?”

You blinked a few times before a groan of discomfort left your mouth, “What the fuck happened?”

Azriel’s shadows sheepishly began to caress your skull, pressing kisses of apologies on your skin. You didn’t hear anything besides tiny wisps of whispers coming from them but you’re were sure they hissed at Cassian as he shooed them away.

It took you a few minutes but you were eventually able to sit. Your ears ringing and still a little dizzy but you were feeling better despite the throb on your temple.

Azriel’s shadows peered at you from behind him sheepishly, and it was only when you extended your hand to them that they swarmed you in a flurry. Rubbing against your neck and hair affectionately, being careful with the side of your face but caressing you softly.

“They say they’re sorry.”

Your lips quirked up at Azriel’s words, “They’re forgiven.”

They buzzed in excitement, before stilling softly as Cassian extended a hand out for the shadows. They treaded carefully, lightly caressing his arm as in apology as if they had also offended him.

A few swirled around your hand and fingers, tugging it much more gently into Cassian’s extended hand. Your cheeks warmed up in embarrassment but before you could pull away, he tangled his fingers with yours.

The shadows swirled around your intertwined hands as if proud of themselves before finally returning to their master. Azriel sent you a soft smirk, and with a shake of his head diseapeared into a mass of dark misty shadows.

“Are you alright?”

You nodded slowly, retorting in exasperation, “Just feels like I hit my head.”

Cassian’s lips tugged into a soft smile, helping you up and not dropping your tangled fingers, “Let’s get you to Madja.”

He pulled you along closely, walking you both towards the edge of the training area. Before you could overthink about being so tangled in his arms he wrapped himself around you. One hand cradling the back of your head to his chest, while the other gripped the back of your thighs.

Your heart pummeled to your stomach as he took off flying, it had been so long since you felt the breeze against your face like this. Your legs wrapping around him as a startled laugh left your mouth.

You felt his laugh more than you heard it, his chest rumbling against yours and for the first time in years, your heart felt at ease around Cassian.

No turmoil or anguish, just overflowing affection and happiness as he flew you carefully around Velaris. Your face tucked away from being so pressed to his chest to look up at him and your breath hitched.

He was truly so beautiful, rough and sharp features that looked like he was made out of stone carving. His lips the perfect shade of dusty rose and plump, his nose fit him beautifully too, slightly crooked at the slope from being broken over the years. White-raised scars on his beautiful tan skin. You were so close you could see the faintest of freckles that doted his skin.

“You didn’t pass out on me, did you?”

Heat bloomed on your cheeks at getting so lost admiring him before you tucked your face back into his chest, “No, I’m fine.”

His fingers squeezed around your thighs as he pulled you closer before he descended down to the Town House.

You were grateful for the hand he kept placed on your back as he walked you into the house. Your dizziness hitting you once again as you landed on solid ground. The warmth running down your spine at his heated touch had you suppressing a shiver.

Your bones ached in protest when he pulled away and sat you down in front of an amused Rhys and exasperated Madja. The elder lady frowning at the bruise on your temple.

“Cassian, I’ve told you not to be so rough when training,” Madja’s soothing voice chastised the General. Your lips tugging into an amused smiled at the noise of protest that left his mouth.

“It was Azriel’s shadows that caused this.”

Madja’s eyes narrowed softly at his words but said nothing more. A hiss leaving your lips as she pushed against the bump forming near your eye.

Cassian’s fingers twitched nervously at the sound of your discomfort. His eyes glued to you as you were looked over by the healer.

Something warm and comfortable hummed in his chest seeing you. The weeks you had been back were nothing short of torture for him.

In the five years you had been gone Cassian came to the devastating realization that he was utterly and unabashedly enamored with you. Cursing himself for the time wasted on pointless lovers, on Nesta, when you had been by his side for the better half of four centuries.

His heart cracking open and knocking him over one restless night as his mind tormented him with everything he had been lacking since you had departed to Day.

He figured that he had always loved you, had always cared for you. But the twisting of his gut in your absences alerted him that it was in a way that was different from Mor and Amren, and then Feyre. His obsession with needing you near, needing you safe stemmed from some thing else entirely.

It took four months of being away from you to realize that. Cursing himself at all the time wasted.

And it wasn’t as if he didn’t try to get ahold of you while you were studying and researching to your hearts content at Day. He had sent letter after letter, received few responses but he had figured you were busy.

His skin had only started to crawl with dread and anxiety when there had been reasons for the Inner Circle to attend a meeting, or some grand ball thrown by Helion, and you were never there.

Either whisked away to some other Court for extended research or taking time away to visit your sister.

The very last time he had stepped foot in Day while you had been there was about three months before your return. Rhys had granted him permission to seek you out.

And when he stepped foot into Day Court’s palace in search of you his hope dwindled as Helion informed him that you had just left a few days prior for a fourteen day tour at Autumn Court. But he swore he scented the soft jasmine and lavender cream that he recognized as your scent roaming the halls.

Resigned, he returned home.

Then you returned, so careful and tense in his presence he wished to turn back back to when things were easier between the two of you. When his face would nuzzle into your soft belly as you ran your fingers through his hair and consoled him after a nightmare.

Or how he’d find his favorite pastries wrapped up on the counter that he knew you’d gone out of your way to get him.

He missed when his feelings hadn’t tangled themselves so deeply into you and he could just be. Gods, did he miss you. He yearned and ached and burned for you while you seemed content at keeping him an arms length away.

The mother could be so cruel.

He barely registered Rhys pressing an affectionate kiss to your bruised temple and mumbling that he was taking Madja back before something so earth shattering was unraveling in his chest.

His eyes wide and chest heaving the second the two of you were alone and your eyes met. A deeply rich golden invisible thread darting from his chest to yours.

He had unconsciously poured all his emotions of recognizing the bond down your connection. A primal need to be closer to you bursting from his chest as he tugged on the bond.

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t seem surprised he noted. Your side of the bond closed off tightly he could feel nothing from your end. He hated that.

Your eyes were wide in apprehension as you stared at him, tears lining your eyes as his emotions of love and devotion were so strong they brought him to his knees before you. Pleading and desperate as he called out your name.

“Don’t do this, Cassian.”

His brows pinched together as he reached for you, the bond screaming in agony as you avoided his touch and stood up to create some space between the two of you.

“Dove, listen to me. Please.” He was not above begging, still kneeled in the center of the room as his wings slumped to the ground. His eyes following your every move as you nervously ran your fingers through your hair.

“I feel it, I feel you.” His fingers and hands were steady as he pointed to his chest despite the feeling of anxiety creeping into him.

“You’re mine, my mate, dove.”

There was a beat of silence, Cassian staring at you as if you had delicately placed every beautiful star in the sky. But you had never seen him look at you like that before.

Never had he inclined he wanted you besides the bond. Gods, did it hurt. Your stomach churned sadly as your fingers balled into fist as you shook your head in denial.

“No. No, you don’t get to just suddenly want me because of the bond. I don’t want it this way.”

His frown deepened at your words, your emotions so heavily felt they started to crack the walls you kept up and pouring into the bond.

You had known for years. Five years, you had known and said nothing. “Gods, Cassian! I have loved you for so long. Prayed and begged to the Mother, to the Cauldron, to the Moon and Stars to have you return my affection and you didn’t.”

Cassian wanted to speak, to protest your words but the frustrated tears pouring down your beautiful face and the agony building in his chest, that was no longer just his, kept him quiet. “I’ve watched you pine and love others, and you have never looked at me that way. You had never thought me worthy of you in that way, and now that you know. It shouldn’t change a thing.”

“But it does,” His fingers itched to devote themselves to you. To memorize every curve and dip on your body. “It changes everything-”

You cut him off before he could continue, before he could tell you that he now felt worthy of loving you. That he now knew he could love you in a way you deserved if the Mother had blessed him with you as his wonderful mate. “Well it shouldn’t.”

You sniffled softly as you stared at him directly in his eyes, “I don’t want it to.”

[mungdou]

YOUR BODY IS A TEMPLE AND I'LL WORSHIP YOU UNTIL I DIE

W. kissing, biting, licking, nipple play, fingering, cum tasting, hair pulling, handjob, masturbation, voyeurism, cervix fucking, coming inside, p in v sex

GR. smut (MINORS DNI)

AN. highkey, my first smut piece. anyways. it's filthy, but pretty vanilla i think.

Your belly tingles as his lips move up your torso so light and feather-like, you almost can't feel it except for when his lips suck ever so slightly against the soft skin of your belly. When he reaches your succulent breasts he grazes his tongue across your nipple, swirling the hardened bead before kissing the underside of your right breast. His hands gently massage your other breast, his thumb coated in your slick as he draws circles around your nipple before pinching it quickly before grabbing your wrists.

He pins you down. It's not painful at all. In fact, his hands hug your wrist perfectly, his thumbs drawing circles into the heel of your palm. Your eyes close as he leans down to taste your lips, his teeth grazing your bottom lip before nibbling it until it turns puffy and red.

Releasing your wrists, he quickly, yet steadily drags the tips of his fingers down your sides. You twitch, feeling ticklish at the feeling, but immediately gasp, your fingers instinctively digging into his silky locks. His fingers plunge deep into your slick cunt, curling in the way that hits that familiar spot all too well. The spongy flesh of your pussy pulsates, clenching around his knuckles, as he pushes his fingers in and out of you. A ring of white cum forming around the base continues to grow thicker, dripping down the back of his hand.

You mewl against his lips, admiring the sight of his sweat-glistened cheeks, heavy-lidded eyes, and perfectly pink lips, swollen and flushed from you sucking on it for the past five minutes. Your hips begin to buck, pushing his fingers deeper, and you find yourself rocking to the rhythm of his fingers so that the heel of his hand would bump into your puffy clit every so often. Every time you feel the roughness of his palm graze your sensitive bud, a whine escapes your mouth and your hips jerk, almost as if you're trying to make a run for it.

Your hands slip around his nape, fingers gripping onto the short hairs at the back of his head. Despite the fact that your vision is turning fuzzy as you struggle to keep your eyes trained on the gorgeously flushed man, hypnotized by the sight of his fingers in your sloppy cunt, nothing in this world could take you out of this moment.

He pulls his fingers out of your cunt, cum dripping out of it, barely bridging itself between your now empty hole, clenching at nothing, and his fingers, which are now coated in your slick. He sucks at the tips of his fingers, humming his approval as he savors the mild salty flavor before taking his slicked fingers and coating his painfully hard cock with your juices. He sighs in relief at his touch before wrapping his hand around his thick member and pumping it.

You grin, getting up. Though you didn't hit your peak just yet, it couldn't hurt to help him out just a little. You lean forward, expecting for him to glare at you to get back down, but his undying focus the overwhelming pleasure he feels at that moment that he doesn't notice you inching towards him until he sees your delicate fingers wrap around the tip of his cock. He shudders as your thumb swipes the tip of his member, a small whine dragging out of his mouth. You move your hands down lower, wrapping around his hand and extending your thumbs to trace the veins underneath. Delicate fingers guide his, pumping up and down until a little bead of cum pools at his tip. You take the cue to smear it off and draw a circle rimming your empty cunt. Rising to your knees, you aim his cock at your opening, pressing down at his spongy tip before fully sinking in until you feel him fill you up.

You hiss through your teeth as his tip brushes your cervix. His eager eyes look up at you through his teary lashes, waiting for you to move, except you don't. The anticipation is killing him as the clock ticks by, he waits and waits, but before he can let a pleading whine slip through, your hips draw circles in his lap and his whine turns into a sigh. His hips begin to buck as you bounces on his lap, a string of curses leaving his lips as he feels your tight, messy cunt twitch each time he hits your cervix. You feel his fingers wrap around your waist, his thumbs pressing down on your lower stomach.

"Mmhm-ph~ ahh, right there~" A shaky sigh from you fills him with energy, as he pounds deeper. The strained sound that comes from your lips, begging to be released comes out like a whistle. "Mgh- I- I'm gonn- ah-!"

His voice is slurred, distracted by the sight of your bouncing tits and the sweet sounds of your mewls. "Agh- just a lil' more sweetheart- we're almost there-"

A familiar knot tightens in the pits of your stomach, threatening to snap. Your fingers inch down towards your clit, ever so slightly grazing the bud, causing a wave of pleasure to crash down on you. He comes just a second later as your pussy flutters around his sensitive shaft, shooting white hot ropes of cum, painting your womb with his seed.

Both of you, panting in sync with each other, lean forward, deepening the intimacy of the moment.

"Thank you for taking care of me" You smile tiredly, a dopey feeling washing over your face. Your hands reach for his cheeks, cupping them with a gentle grasp, almost as if you're afraid to let him go.

"It's the least I could do." He melts in your hands with a satisfied grin painted on his face.

BOKUTO, sugawara, daichi, HINATA, iwaizumi, OSAMU, NANAMI, gojo, GETO, rengoku, tengen, GYOMEI, AKAZA, + your favorites :)

masterlist || request

[winchesterwild78]

On the Fourth Day of Christmas

Master List

Characters: Russell Shaw x Reader

Warnings: Language, a little Angst, Fluff

A/N: Day 4 of my holiday fics. I hope you enjoy this short series. I’m really excited about it. All work is my own, please don’t take it. Reblogs and likes are welcomed. 

I do not own the rights to the characters I use, these will not follow the story lines of the series the character appeared in. This is a work of fiction.

Minors DNI 18+

“Russell?” I opened my front door to see the man who broke my heart standing on my porch. His green eyes full of love and regret.

“Hey, sweetheart.” His voice is like whiskey, but soft and unsure. 

“Don’t sweetheart me! What are you doing here Russell?!” My voice dripped with anger and sadness. He broke my heart and I haven’t seen or heard from him in over five years. 

“I was in town and wanted to see you.” He said softly, shifting his weight. The cold air from the winter day swirled around him and covered us. I shivered, took a deep breath and stepped to the side to let him in. 

He walked past me and I inhaled his scent. It was distinctively Russell, woodsy, sweet like vanilla, and a little spice. I swallowed hard. 

I motioned for him to sit at the table, “Would you like some coffee? I was about to make some.” His green eyes met mine, “Yes, please.”

I nodded and put the coffee on. I busied myself in the kitchen while I waited for the coffee to finish. I felt his eyes on me, but I couldn’t look at him. The pain I thought I had dealt with, came bubbling up and felt just as fresh as the day he left. 

When the coffee was ready I got two cups out and poured. I made his coffee, two creams and a sugar and handed it to him. His fingers brushed against mine and I softly gasped. 

He smirked when he took a sip, “You remembered how I like my coffee?” I nodded, “Of course I do. I remember more than you think.” His smile faltered a little.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t mean much, but I am. Being with you was the best time of my life and I got scared. I wasn’t ready for what I felt, and how fast I was falling. So like a coward, I ran and I’ve been running ever since.” 

I sat across from him and listened. Flashes of our time together, of our passion. All of it playing in my head like an old movie. Then came the moment I realized he was gone. 

I reached for him early in the morning, my hand hitting the cold bed. I got up and as I walked through the house my heart broke more. His clothes, his belongings, he, was gone. The only thing I was left with was the hole in my heart, and the tiny life growing inside me I didn’t know was there. 

Before I could say anything to Russell, my son came into the kitchen. 

“Mama, are we baking..” His voice abruptly stopped at the sight of the man at the table. Russell’s eyes looked at my son and then at me. I looked away, looking at my son, who as fate would have it looked just like his father, right down to the piercing green eyes. “Who’s he?”

“He’s just someone mama knew a long time ago. He just stopped by to say hello. He won’t be staying long and we can bake the cookies.” My son nodded. “Does he know my daddy?” 

I swallowed hard, “No,” I said softly. My gaze never meeting Russell’s. I couldn’t look at him. When I found out I was pregnant I never tried to reach out to him. I honestly didn’t want to hear him reject our son too. I didn’t think I could handle knowing he rejected me and then our baby. 

Our son, Jacob walked up to Russell. “Do you know my daddy? Mommy said he left before she knew I was in her tummy.” Russell looked at him and smiled softly, “I’m not sure kiddo, what’s your name?” “Oh my name is Jacob Andrew Shaw, I’m 5 years old. What’s your name?” 

Russell looked at me and I finally met his gaze. Tears pricked my eyes when I saw the realization hit him, this was his son.

“I’m Russell, it’s nice to meet you Jacob. Are you excited for Christmas?” He asked, pointing to the decorations. Jacob jumped up and down and started talking about his Christmas list and how he’s been trying to be good so Santa will visit. 

Russell smiled and looked over at me. I looked at Jacob and saw the excitement on his face, then a wave of guilt washed over me. My sweet baby boy was face to face with his father, the man he longed to have in his life and I was the coward now. 

“Jacob, honey, go play in your room for a little bit so Russell and I can have adult conversations.” “Okay mommy. I love you.” I smiled and ruffled his hair, “I love you too little bit.” “Bye Mr. Russell.” He waved as he turned to go to his room. Russell smiled and said bye. 

I swallowed hard before looking at him. I knew what was coming. 

I met his gaze, his eyes full of questions. “Is he mine?” Russell’s voice is soft but shaky. I couldn’t speak, my voice caught in my throat. All I could do was nod yes. 

Russell stood and walked over to the empty seat beside me. Sitting down he took my hands in his, “Y/N, I’m sorry. If I hadn’t left I would have known about him. You had every right to keep him from me.”

Tears started to fall heavy and fast, his thumb reached up and wiped them away, “Shh, darlin’, don’t cry.” “Russ, I’m so sorry. I was scared. Scared you’d reject him like you did me. I couldn’t do that to him. I wanted to tell you. I was so scared when I found out I was pregnant. I didn’t know what to do.”

He wrapped his arms around me and held me tight. I just weeped. His arms still felt like home and his smell just as intoxicating. “I’m sorry I left you. I was in love with you and I walked away from you. I know sorry doesn’t make up for five years of being gone, but I am.”

I lifted my head, tears staining my face, “I still love you too, Russ. I couldn’t move on and once I found out about Jacob I didn’t want anyone else. I prayed every night you’d come back to me, to us.”

He lifted my chin up more, our eyes meeting and all the pain from the past five years melting away as he pressed his lips softly to mine. The kiss was gentle at first, then he licked my lips. I parted them and his hands went into my hair, pulling me in for a passionate kiss. The guilt, anguish, sorrow, and love between us pouring into each other’s mouths. 

I pulled away, trying to get some air. I looked into Russell’s eyes, they were full of love and regret. “God, you’re still so beautiful. I was a fool to leave you.” I blushed and smiled, “Yes you were.” I placed a quick kiss on his lips and walked towards the couch. 

I turned and looked at him, “Are you going to stand there or come over here?” He smirked and walked over to the couch and sat down, pulling me down with him. 

I straddled his lap and kissed him again. His hands rested on my hips. I heard Jacob laughing and playing and it snapped me back to reality. I climbed off of Russell’s lap and took a deep breath. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. This isn’t just about us anymore. Everything I do now directly affects that little boy in there and I refuse to let you break his heart.” 

Russell’s eyes looked up at me, so full of hurt, “I know. I’m sorry. Please give me another chance. I lied earlier. I wasn’t in town. I came here hoping to beg for your forgiveness and see if you’d take me back. I love you and I’ve always loved you. I’ve spent the last five years loving you. I can’t see a future with anyone but you. You’re it for me, Y/N. You always have been and you always will be. God. I know I fucked up, but please give me another chance. I want you and our son to be in my life. I want to help you raise him, I want to be there with you supporting both of you.”

Before I could say anything I heard a small gasp. My head spun and standing in the doorway was Jacob, his green eyes wide. “Mommy, is he my daddy?” 

My heart beat wildly in my chest, and my mouth went dry. I looked at Russell and back at Jacob. I didn’t know what to say. Then Jacob walked over and took my hand, “Mommy, is he?” I looked down at my son and just started crying. 

I fell to the floor and pulled him into my lap, “I’m so sorry, Jacob. This is all my fault. Yes, he’s your daddy. I’m so sorry baby. I never told him about you because I was scared.” 

Russell’s heart broke at the sight in front of him. He got on the floor and put his strong arms around us. “Shh, it’s okay baby. This isn’t your fault.” Jacob looked at Russell and then back at me. “Mommy, don’t cry. It’s okay. He’s here now. He can be my daddy now, right Mr Daddy Russell.” 

Russell chuckled at the name Jacob called him, “Right little man. If it’s okay with mommy I plan on being here and helping with you.” 

Jacob got up, threw his arms around Russell’s neck and hugged him tightly. “I’m glad you’re here daddy.” “Me too, Jacob.” 

I wiped the tears away and looked at Russell and Jacob. My heart filled with so much love for him. Jacob climbed out of his lap and ran back to play. Leaving Russell and I sitting on the floor. 

I looked up at Russell, meeting his green eyes. “Please don’t hurt us again. I can’t survive you breaking my heart and his.” “I swear I’m here for as long as you want me.”

I leaned in close to him, inches from his lips, “How does forever sound?” He leaned closer, our lips almost touching, “Perfect”. Then he kissed me.

A few weeks later was Christmas. Russell had been true to his word and so far he was there every day, helping with Jacob and spending time with us as a family. 

Christmas Eve Jacob insisted he stay the night. After a few too many drinks Russell and I made a little Christmas magic ourselves. We woke up tangled in each other’s arms to the sound of Jacob’s excitement about Santa leaving so many presents. 

We got up, got dressed and walked out into the living room to watch Jacob open gifts. Russell and I sat on the couch, beside each other. I was taking pictures and watching Jacob’s face light up with excitement. 

Jacob climbed on the couch between Russell and I and hugged both of us. “Did you have a good Christmas, baby?” I asked as he snuggled close to me. “Yes mommy.” “Good. What was your favorite part?” 

Jacob looked at me and then at Russell, “Daddy.” I smiled and hugged him, “Yeah, I think so too, baby.” Russell looked at the two of us and smiled, “I think my favorite part was you two. I love you both so much. Merry Christmas, darlin’.” He placed a soft kiss on my lips and one on Jacob’s head. “Merry Christmas, Russell.” 

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[ipseitydelrey]

Can I request a nsfw alphabet for Carmy?

of course you can !! and thank you <3

nsfw alphabet ☆ carmen berzatto

ship carmen berzatto x afab!reader

warnings reader has afab anatomy but uses gender neutral terms, smut, oral (m and f receiving), slight bondage?, biting, fingering, use of protection (stay safe kids!), masturbation, sex toys, tiny bit of degradation mixed with praise, tiny bit of exhibitionism, sexting/nudes, teasing

a/n i’m gonna be totally honest: i haven’t finished watching s2. i’m almost done it tho, i’m on episode 7 so my idea of carmy is solely based on everything that has happened up until s2:e6 (technically episode 5 bc episode 6 was entirely set years before s1 takes place soooo).

enjoy !!

A = aftercare (what are they like after sex?)

typically, carmy would be too tired to get up and get washcloths, so he’d rather just hold you and whisper sweet nothings in your ear. that’s his idea of aftercare anyway.

B = body part (their favourite body part of theirs and of yours)

he likes his hands the most. he likes how sometimes you trace the tattoos on the back of his palms and he just loves to hold your hand. during sex, he sometimes likes to finger you so he loves how you moan and writhe while his fingers pump into your fleshy walls.

as for you, it has to be your mouth. he loves to cook for you and you’re the taste tester for a lot of his experimental dishes when he was curating the menu for the bear! although, on the lewd side, whenever you give him oral, it’s so arousing to him how your mouth takes in all of him.

C = cum (anything to do with cum)

he likes to finish either in you or on your stomach, although he does wear condoms regularly so he mostly finishes while still in you. however, when you’re giving him a blowjob, he likes to give you a facial.

D = dirty secret (a dirty secret of theirs)

he wants to fuck you while you have an apron on and nothing underneath. he hasn’t told you this fantasy yet, but if he ever catches you doing it, best believe that he’s bending you over the kitchen counter.

E = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

oh he definitely has experience. mostly hookups and one night stands, though.

F = favourite position (this goes without saying)

his favourite would have to be camel style. carmy loves having you ass up with your face pushed into the pillow while he pounds you.

G = goofy (are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)

when you first start having sex, he’s more on the serious side. though, over time as your relationship grows and you’re more comfortable with each other, he does crack a joke or two.

H = hair (how well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

curly and messy, but controlled. sometimes you help him with shaving!

I = intimacy (how are they during the moment, romantic aspect...)

he only ever said “i love you” during sex around one year into your relationship. it was a slip of the tongue, and you can tell how worried he got when he said it. he quickened the pace when you said “i love you too.”

J = jack off (masturbation headcanon)

rarely to sometimes, probably once or twice a week. if he’s pent up but he can’t leave work just yet, then he’ll go into the office or the bathroom and masturbate.

K = kink (one or more of their kinks)

at the start of your relationship, you were both pretty vanilla (keyword: were). maybe five or six months into your relationship, you suggested trying bondage — just tying your wrists together. one of his other kinks that he suggested was biting; mostly biting you, but he wouldn’t mind if you reciprocate the action.

L = location (favourite places to have sex)

while he does prefer the privacy of the bedroom, there are times when he enjoys doing it in the kitchen or a car.

M = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

a random turn on he has is the way you eat specific foods. for example, ice cream in a cone. when it melts a little and you lap up the ice cream with your tongue, he can’t help but think of you sucking him off.

N = nope (something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

obviously, he would never hurt you, either physically or verbally. and although one of his turn ons his how you eat, one of his turn offs is using food (like whipped cream, cherries, etc.) during sex. he finds it to be a waste of using perfectly good ingredients that he would rather use to cook you something.

O = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

he likes both, but he likes to be on the receiving end. at the end of a typical day working on renovating the restaurant, he’s tired, but sometimes in the mood. so you’re happy to give him a handjob/blowjob while he lays back and relaxes. if he wants to perform oral on you, then he likes it when you just sit on his face.

P = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

depends on his mood, which most of the time is pent up anger. rough sex is common in your shared sex life, so it’s a welcomed rarity when he wants to go slow.

Q = quickies (their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

honestly, he’s perfectly fine with quickies. granted, he’d rather take his time with you, but if you’re in public like a bathroom stall or something, then he’s all for it.

R = risk (are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

he would be fine with experimenting a little, maybe with bondage, sex toys, and a bit of degradation (usually mixed with praise). he also likes taking risks in semi-public places (for instance, the office at the bear; you two have definitely done it there anytime you come over to visit).

S = sexts (yes? no? pictures?)

more pictures are sent than actual sexts. the texts themselves are more teasing than explicit, as are the pictures. you both partake in send one another nudes, but they’re always either tasteful or the sexual organs are covered just enough.

T = toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

he himself doesn’t own any toys, but if you do — especially later in your relationship when you start to experiment a little — he’ll definitely use them on you.

U = unfair (how much they like to tease)

there are no words to describe how much carmy loves to tease you. the teasing is toned down a bit in public (with a couple of exceptions, like maybe if someone is trying to flirt with you…he’s definitely jealous and will tease you relentlessly), but when it’s just the two of you, he can be so unfair.

V = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make)

he’s the type of guy to not moan. maybe some grunts here and there, and there are whispers of ‘shit’ and ‘fuck,’ but no moans or whimpers.

W = wild card (get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

one time, you suggested eating aphrodisiac chocolates to spice things up in the bedroom. of course, carmy does know that he can just buy them at a sex shop or online, but he decided to make them himself. and yes, they definitely put you in the mood…

X = x-ray (dick size)

slightly above average, but girthy. he’s also the type of guy to have that one prominent vein that runs along the side that just feels so good when he’s pumping in and out of you.

Y = yearning (how high is their sex drive? how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last...)

again, depends on mood. if carmy is pent up and still energetic when he comes home, then he can last three, maybe four rounds tops. however, if he’s tired, then one or two rounds before he clocks out.

Z = zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

most days, he falls asleep pretty quickly (hence, his definition of aftercare being quiet praises and cuddling). he does tend to fall asleep before you (sometimes, he can clock out right after he cums), but on days/nights where he’s still energetic, he’ll clean you both up and you both fall asleep in each other’s arms.

[ughdoir]

꣑ৎ shawn michaels

˚⋅ birthday sex in a hotel what more could you ask for.

˚⋅ contains black female reader, lowercase intended, insertion, dirty talk, birthday sex, make up sex, rough at times, aftercare, unprotected sex (no glove no love), squirting, creaming, orgasm. minors don’t interact

shawn’s adamant about not wanting anything for his birthday the older man not fond of aging as his position in the wwf was unknown. with new talent emerging and titles changing hands the thought of being replaced was daunting.

he settled into the hotel room alone without the presence of his girlfriend. hot water from the shower cleansing him of the sins he partook in with hunter earlier. the men sharing everything together and coincidentally a birthday five days apart.

getting caught up in the limelight that provided much more than this evenings house show. alcohol would’ve been his speciality but tonight was different opting to be sober as his mind couldn’t stop racing.

the girlfriend in question hasn’t responded to him all day a bit annoyed of the decision to spend a birthday in sin city knowing that women were practically hanging their panties from the turn buckles for the degenerates.

shawn understood why he was in the dog house so he didn’t bother to call again. a year of dating that wasn’t short of heated arguments and headaches. so instead he’s sipping from a wine glass rewatching the god father with a box of cheese pizza positioned on the counter.

midnight approaching as a soft knock on the door breaks his focus thinking it was the movie before he hears another thud his eyebrows raise in confusion. from the peephole he recognizes you cautiously opening the door.

a genuine smile gracing his features as you’re holding a chocolate cake decorated with chocolate frosting a tub of his favorite french vanilla ice cream at your feet.

his eyes scan your appearance high waisted denim jeans with a white crop top. silver hoops matching a butterfly necklace the hint of makeup subtle with nude glossy lips.

your hair shoulder length and slightly curled at the end small flower clips securing it from falling into your face.

“happy birthday baby.” your voice soft the smile unmistaken as your boyfriend takes the cake from you fingers joining together in the process.

he’s ushering you inside eyes inadvertently lingering on the curve of your ass. grabbing a fork to dig into the chocolate he’s chewing slowly ensuring to place the ice cream in the freezer.

you note the tidiness of the hotel room a stark contrast to his on screen personality. “a year of dating and i never would’ve took you for a baker.” he’s forking another piece the chocolate melting in his mouth with a hum. light blue eyes warm with affectionate at your gesture.

“you’ve never asked.” your response a little snarky settling on the couch as shawn is all to familiar with your attitude.

over the next few hours you’ve decided to forgive shawn considering the stress at work and fact that he hasn’t stepped out of the relationship.

you both became immersed in a conversation of wrestling asking the superstar himself about his everyday experience within the wwf. you met outside of the company wrestling not being your favorite pastime but you were smitten the day you saw him.

one conversation leading to more, not bothered by your younger age of twenty three as you kept his head on straight. the man patient allowing you to question everything, being open with his responses and pleased with how much you’ve learned about his craft. feeling as if another year around the sun with you was worth it.

he’s comfortable reclining further as a scent of tangerines and vanilla entices him to pull you closer placing one arm behind your head. small kisses placed to your temple as the atmosphere shifts shawn knowing how to make a particular pulse grow between your legs.

“never knew a younger women could be so sophisticated.” his breath is fanning your face. you’re so timid it makes him want to claim you. cute not enough to summarize how adorable you are.

“then maybe you don’t know a lot about younger women.” the rebuttal slipping out casually as shawn smirks his eyes turning a shade darker.

“is that so? perhaps you can enlighten me.” your breath hitches as he kisses you, the older man taking the lead as his tongue wrestles yours. a connecting trail of spit as you separate leaving you sticky.

“i never said you were forgiven.” the man shakes his head laughing with a tsk his hand coming to guide you towards the bed. round ass sinking into the plush as he stands in front of you staring down at your frame.

“arms up.” he’s stern you obeying as he’s discarding your shirt across the room tits on display as he toys with your nipples pulling slightly. mouth then coming to latch on the sensitive bud sucking harshly as his fingers find your pussy.

your thong adding for separation as he taps your clit embarrassed with how turned on you are. “i’m sorry babe.” you can barely focus on his apologies as he’s rubbing your clit jeans and underwear feeling a bit tighter as he’s purposely teasing you.

shawn somehow always having to be in control and on his birthday was no exception. he’s pulling away turning you around and propping your ass up on the edge of the bed. peeling your jeans and thong down to your ankles.

he locks eyes on your glistening folds tongue lapping at your clit as he eats you from behind arms holding you in place as he slurps. you’re squirming around eyes rolling back as he’s hungry for you tongue going as deep as it could.

“fuck, no running princess.” shawn’s vocal his own pretty moans slipping out as he’s flicking your clit the cream coating his mouth as he pushes his face deeper the sweetness simply delicious.

“shawn” is all you can moan pleading as you can feel your abdomen clenching helplessly grinding on his face. his blond hair in disarray as he’s humming the sensations have you shaking reduced to a cumming mess.

“fucking brat.” the words make you whimper as he’s lining his dick up with your entrance tip slick as he’s collecting the juices a chuckle erupting from him.

“think you can take it?” he taunts not waiting for protest while pushing his dick inside of you with a groan. the warmth and tightness inviting as you hissed still not fully able to adjust to his well endowed length.

your head is pushed into the mattress back arching deeper as your cunt made several sounds his dick throbbing inside of you and hitting a spot that makes you babble.

his actions rough with a hint of being gentle ensuring to place kisses on your back everytime he swatted your ass.

you’re drunk from his dick mouth agape as your drooling gripping the bed sheets while small tears of pleasure form being so full is heavenly indeed. “my precious girl you’re getting so good at this.” shawn is praising you the way you’re taking him so well driving him crazy.

liquid spilling from your pussy as your squirting the juices staining the sheets underneath you both whimpering as you’ve never came so hard before. feeling him deep in your stomach as shawn’s eager hips slamming as the birthday boy chased his own high.

his cock stiffens pulling out of you as ropes of cum lands on your thong and jeans, some dripping on your brown skin literally marking his territory. he’s still hard though eyes still feasting on your body as round two looms in the air.

“i’m not done with you yet it’s still my birthday.” the statement has you on your back legs spread open as he’s smiling ready to destroy you.

[chvnnie]

Ok so this:

Hyunjin with a breeding kink. He reveals this to y/n who happily complies (finds it sexy honestly) but reveals they can’t have kids due to a hysterectomy.

Can either go REALLY crazy and hot or be the saddest thing ever.

ooooooh. this is interesting. i really don’t think i can emotionally handle writing anymore angst so 😭

SMUT — MINORS DNI

The game was your idea. You found it on a shelf at some random store deep in the mall, discounted from how long it’s sat there. It could be a waste of five bucks, or it could be the best thing you’ve ever bought. Well, probably not to that extreme, but it could be fun.

It was Hyunjin’s idea to add alcohol. A bottle of deep red wine in the prettiest glasses you’ve ever seen. They make you feel almost elegant as you read the trashy cards.

Some make you cringe, laughing at the poorly worded questions on the flimsy cards. “Read it!” He exclaims when you refuse, snatching it out of your hand if you keep resisting. It’s all good fun, a great way to get to know your new boyfriend a little better.

You’ve only been official for about three months, but have known him for six. A friend of a friend, the plus one to a wedding you were apart of. He wasn’t as sly as he thought — eyes on you the entire ceremony and reception. It only took about three songs for him to introduce himself. Smooth, handsome. Compliments your hair, your name, your dress. Intentionally making you feel a little bashful before he asks you to dance.

How could you not give him your number?

It’s been great. Hyunjin makes you happy, the butterflies that swarm when his name is even mentioned drowning you. Head over heels for this boy already.

It was easy to pick up the game and buy it. You want to know everything about him; from the way he likes to fold his clothes to things he’s only feels comfortable sharing with you. What better place to start than a trashy game about sex?

You take a long drink of your wine as you grab a new card, reading over it twice as your smile grows.

“Oh, fuck.” Hyunjin says with a shy, downing the rest of his wine. “I don’t like that smile.”

“Why not?” You giggle.

“It’s menacing.”

You crinkle your nose, sticking your tongue out before reading it aloud. “What is your biggest kink?”

Your boyfriend scoffs, reaching for the bottle on the coffee table. “That’s it? Kind of a vanilla question.”

“Yet,” you hold out your glass for a refill of your own, “you’re not answering it.”

He smiles at you, leaning in to peck your wine stained lips. “Because I want you to go first.”

“Oh, that’s not fair—“

“Come on, baby.” Hyunjin whines as he scoots a little closer, pointer finger under your jaw as he pulls you in. His lips hover just above yours, breath making your body buzz with excitement. “I’ll make it up to you.”

You hate how fucking whipped you are for him. With a sigh, you agree, elating your sweet boyfriend. It takes you a moment, trying to narrow down the long listen is more difficult than you assumed. When it hits you, you beam at him. Reach for his hands, which he happily gives you.

“I like,” you bring the large hand up to your throat, wrapping the slender fingers around it. His eyes darken immediately, huffing a low laugh as he wets his lips, “among other things.”

Hyunjin raises his brows, flexing his fingers around your neck and tugging you closer to him. “What other things?”

You smile at him, giggling when he squeezes a little harder. “It’s you turn. Maybe then I’ll tell you more.”

The hungry look he gives you last a beat too long, as if he’s considering whether or not he should tell you, or show you. Hyunjin clears his throat, thumb reaching up to rub your bottom lip.

“Breeding.” He says in a near whisper. “I want to pump you so full and watch my cum drip out of you, angel.”

Even though his words make your skin tingle, the alcohol only aiding in exciting you, you can’t help the dread that’s heavy in your stomach. “Oh? Do you—“ you swallow around his palm. “—do you want kids?”

The question seems to throw him off, but he just shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m not attached to the idea either way.”

All you can do is nod, dropping your gaze to the crystal glass in your hands. Your body is feeling cold, a little shake making you unsteady. Hyunjin quickly picks up on your change in behavior, dropping his hand to give you some space.

“Are you alright?” He’s gentle, head tilted as he looks at you in concern. “I didn’t mean to upset you—“

“You didn’t.” You grabbed his hands, squeezing them reassuringly. “It’s not you at all. It’s just—“ you take a shaky breath, racking your brain in how to say this. How do you bring it up? You knew you would have to eventually, but you didn’t think it would be so soon. It’s been such an easy, fun night. Should a topic like this really be brought up?

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it.” Hyunjin says softly. “We can wait until you’re ready.”

With a shake of your head, you refuse. It’s hard to meet his gaze as you tell him the story. Not once does he interrupt, or question. Listening carefully as you tell him the entire story in a soft voice.

It’s silent when you finish, his thumbs rubbing the tops of your hands. Neither speaking, letting the information take hold.

“I’m sorry.” You finally say, tears stinging your eyes. He’s been quiet for far too long. “If that ruins anything—“

“Hey, no.” Hyunjin says, cupping your face so he can catch the tears before they fall. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

Everything about him makes you fall so deep, so fast for him. Not once has he made you feel unwanted or unsafe, gentle and careful with you regarding everything. Even if you feel like you don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve him.

“But, if you ever want children—“

“Then we’ll figure it out.” He says simply. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

It’s so earnest, impossible not to believe. “Thank you.”

Hyunjin pulls you in close, kissing the center of your forehead. “You don’t have to thank me.” He mumbles. “Besides, it’s pretty hot.”

You can’t help the laugh of disbelief you give, looking at your boyfriend with wide eyes. “Huh?”

“I can cum in you as much as I fucking want, and we never have to worry about it?” His smile is wide, a little mischievous. “Oh, baby, I’m going to fill you up so good.”

What’s worse — how hard you accidentally hit him or the how much that comment set you off? You try to wiggle out of his hold, making a comment about him before a pervert, but he’s quick. Bringing you in for a kiss, smiling into your lips as he feels you melt in his hold.

The cheap cards get scattered across the living room carpet, the bottle of wine tipped over and dripping slowly onto the white carpet. There’s little to no concern about the stain it’s leaving, not when Hyunjin has your legs hooked over your shoulders. Bending you into a press with a hand locked around your throat.

He has the brightest smile on his face, moaning along with you. Yours are a little more broken, gasps here and there as you try to get more air.

“You’re clenching me so hard, angel.” His low voice only winds you up more, clawing at his biceps hard enough to draw blood. “Was my baby feeling a little needy?”

Nodding in agreement, you try your best to keep your eyes open. Not wanting to look away from him for even a second. His dark hair has fallen in his face, framing it beautifully. Plush lips between his teeth, swollen from yours and stained from the wine.

Hyunjin is the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen. Kind and gentle. Sweet and caring. Giving you everything you’ve ever wanted, ever needed, without even second guessing.

You reach up, tucking his hair out of his face. The soft touch so different than the ones he’s giving you.

The words leave your mouth without any real hesitation, eyes sparkling and chest full as you finally say what’s been building and building since he asked you to dance. His hips slow in surprise, stars starting to appear in his dark eyes.

“Really?”

You trace his perfect jawline, completely in awe of the man you’ve fallen so hard for. “Really.”

Lips crash, thrusts even faster than before. Hard, sloppy, as he tries to show you that he shares the sentiment in every possible way. When you finish, it’s only when he allows it. Desperate to get there with you.

“I love you, too.”

[banned-for-horny]

After your words I just need more possessive traumatized, messed up Robin who clings to PC like a small coala.

"Robin!"

Robin is five when he skins his knee.

He doesn't remember how or when. What he does remember is the itch of the cut, the way his skin tingles and burns as blood begins to puff at the seams. He remembers his eyes watering, blurring the world around him as he starts to hiccup and wail, because Robin had been (and always will be) a crybaby.

But, he also had you. You'd come running the moment he fell, chubby hands dragging one of Ms. Bailey's friends behind you. Unlike him, you were never allowed outside without supervision. Today, that seems to work in his favor.

Yes, Robin remembers thinking. He's very lucky to have you.

"Robin, what are you-stop!"

Robin is seven when he loses his first tooth.

That's late, apparently. You're already missing three, two falling out and one forcibly knocked out when an older orphan tried to push you down the stairs. Robin had bitten the older orphan in retaliation, but the force from hitting the floor still knocked your tooth clean out.

But it's not a scary process, you tell him when you cram your fingers in his mouth. It doesn't hurt at all! And if it hurts, you'll go get Ms. Bailey for him and then she'll buy you some nice pastries from the café.

It's a flat-out lie. Robin recalls blood gushing from his mouth when you finally ripped his tooth out. It started to make him dizzy, so you ran out to find some help until he was sent to the hospital to have his mouth looked at. You're still there when he wakes up, though, and you manage to buy him some vanilla ice cream with what meager savings you have.

His throat was still numb from the anesthetic, but Robin recalls tasting milk and honey when you smiled at him.

"No, Robin, stop! S-Snap out of it already!"

Robin is ten when he first walks in on you in the bathroom.

It used to be fine before. He remembers taking showers with you all the time, blowing suds at your face and wrestling to shove you under the surface. Ms. Bailey had said to stop that when he reached seven, but you were never one for listening to the caretaker, so neither was Robin.

But now, Robin thinks that night, it's...different.

He has his thin blanket strained between his legs, face warm and neck damp with sweat. The weird squirming in his stomach won't stop. He wants to sleep, but every time he shuts his eyes, he sees your bare back instead and feels sick all over again.

In the future, he will take classes and learn from a pretty blonde man all about what he's feeling. It's natural, he will learn, for boys his age to start developing some interest in people. It's not something to be ashamed of. In fact, in this hell, it's something he should embrace.

But for now, Robin just rolls onto his stomach and tries to ignore it.

"Robin, this isn't-please, don't! Get off-"

Robin is thirteen when someone tries to take you right in front of him.

Your bodyguards are careless, have been ever since you hit thirteen. Robin knows one is still around, though he's too busy schmoozing with some other guy across the park.

But Robin isn't, and the second the lady's grip on your forearm gets too tight, he's there with a fistful of mulch and a scream that splits the air like the temple bells. He shoves the chips at the tall woman's cheeks and rams an elbow into her shoulder. It's just enough to get her to let go, stumbling back from the assault.

Then she rounds on Robin with her lips pulled back in a snarl, but you're already on her, throwing your entire weight into a tackle that sends the woman flying into the fountain. Your physique has always been better than his. He's still very lucky you would never use it against him.

By the time a 'random bystander' (ie, the bodyguard that supposed to be protecting you under Ms. Bailey's orders) comes in to sweep you and Robin away, you're starting to grow a black eye and his ankle hurts pretty bad, but he's hand-in-hand with you. You're all smiles for the first few hours, reassuring him that everything was okay and that you're fine, but when he's in his shared room with you, you end up slipping into his bed.

You're trembling. Robin wraps his arms around you and holds you tight.

"Don't touch me!"

Robin is sixteen when he sees you kiss another classmate.

He doesn't know who she is, just that you're just as flustered and apologizing to hell and back. It must have been an accident. It happens all the time.

That doesn't stop the hole from tearing into his chest, rattling his nerves and flooding every pore in his marrow with...with what? Unease? Disgust? Betrayal?

Whatever it is, it's chased by a rush of shame. You would never betray him. Furthermore, you aren't his. Not like that, at least. You've been raised by his side ever since he can remember. Wherever Robin went, you were guaranteed to follow (or, at least, try). Even when school started and your schedules differed, you made it clear that walking home with Robin would be part of your new routine. If Robin ever fell, you would be there to catch him.

And if anyone tries to hurt you, Robin is supposed to be there to protect you, because he's your friend-no, because he's yours.

"..."

Robin is nineteen when he finally pulls out of your cum-slicked hole. Sweat drips from his temple and traces his cheekbone. His arms are aching, his stomach burns, and when he looks down, your eyes are locked onto the curtained window that overlooks the town. The flesh around your throat is already starting to puff with hand-shaped bruises. You could have easily fought him off, but you would never lay a hand on him, even if it meant hurting yourself.

He's lucky, he thinks before collapsing on top of you. You're still half-dressed in your sleepwear, the fabric clinging to his sweaty skin as he tries to curl around you. The bed sheets below you are still fresh with your scent.

Right. This is your room. He'd come into your room, climbed into your bed, and-

He doesn't realize he's crying until your hand touches his cheek. You're not looking at him, glazed eyes focusing on the wall instead, but the rest of your body moves on autopilot, muscle memory from years of comforting him when he wept.

"...it's okay, Robin," you murmur. "It's okay. I'm fine."

Because you would always be there to catch him. No matter what.

Robin is very lucky, indeed.

[iwaoiness]

— omegaverse

The K-drama continues playing on the television until Iwaizumi picks up the remote from the table to turn it off. Now, only the soft hum of the ceiling fan can be heard as Hajime gazes at Tooru, fast asleep on the couch. His lips curve into a tender smile before he sets the remote back in place and crouches down beside the sofa. Lovingly, he watches his husband's peaceful face.

Tooru is lying on his back, head tilted slightly on the pillow. His bangs are pulled back by a headband, and his glasses sit slightly askew. Iwaizumi carefully removes them, folding the arms of the glasses before placing them on the table. His cheeks are gently flushed, and when Hajime softly brushes them with his knuckles, he feels the warmth. His lips are parted, his breathing calm, his chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. The room still carries the familiar blend of their scents: Tooru’s vanilla and peach intertwined with Hajime’s traces of sandalwood and pine.

But he knows that soon there will be a hint of baby powder in that mix.

Hajime’s gaze drops to Tooru’s stomach, peeking shamelessly from beneath his faded NASA shirt. One of Tooru’s hands rests there, over the five-month bump cradling new life—their little puppy.

With care, Hajime places his own hand over the rounded belly, his fingers brushing against Tooru’s. Gently, he rubs his thumb across the skin, feeling warmth coil tightly in his chest at the simple truth that they really, really, are going to be parents.

“Our little princess,” Hajime’s sweet smile widens as he leans down to press a soft kiss near Tooru’s navel. “Grow strong and healthy, okay? Thanks for letting papá sleep so much—maybe this will finally help him get a decent sleep schedule.” He whispers against the skin. “But don’t give him too much trouble, alright? It’s enough that he can’t wear his favorite shoes anymore because his feet swell too much.”

Then, just beneath his palm, Hajime feels a kick, as if their daughter is responding to him. He blinks in surprise before letting out a soft chuckle, planting another kiss right where the kick had been.

But, a moment later, Tooru’s hand twitches, and a soft whimper pulls Hajime’s eyes upward just in time to see his husband stir lazily, slowly blinking open his eyes with a delicate frown. Fucking endearing. Tooru’s sleepy gaze meets his, and his expression softens.

“Why is it that she always has to kick so hard when you talk to her?” He murmurs, his voice husky as he rubs his free hand over his eyes to wake up.

Hajime’s smile grows wider as he gently rests his cheek against Tooru’s pregnant belly.

“Because I’m her favorite dad.”

“You wish, Iwa-chan,” Tooru lets out a laugh, clear and beautiful, and Iwaizumi thinks (not for the first time) that if there is a limit to how much love one can hold for a person, he has long surpassed it with Tooru.

...

im not a big fan of the tradicional omegaverse cuz i strongly prefer alphaxalpha pairs but im so weak for o!oikawa and a!iwaizumi being girl dads tbh

u can find me on my ao3 🍉

[moineauz]

જ⁀ 𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐀 𝐂𝐀𝐊𝐄

synopsis: in which zhongli- a most doting partner- decides to not only surprise you, but personally bake you a cake for your birthday.

side comments: this is for @staarri 100 followers and birthday event! i hope you like it- can't wait for more events <3 hope i’m not too late 😅

extra: fluff, gn reader, inspired by spring and my love for baking, word count: roughly 786

Zhongli is- undoubtedly- knowledgeable and adept in various subjects; gliding over words with eloquence. Weaving the mundane and mediocre of every day into tales of raw human experience and tender adoration for the subtle moments of life.

Yet, when it comes to baking, he is quite frankly, doomed to fail in the most comical and disastrous ways.

He once attempted to bake your cultural dish- and burnt it... your apartment fire alarm went off. Not long after, he wanted to create a simple loaf of banana bread, however, when you took a bite, you held back a gag. Salty cookies, bread as hard as stone, tarts that crumble, undercooked muffins, and dough that won't rise. The list goes on.

However, Zhongli has seen the corners of your lips rise like bread as you knead dough with a tenderness and endearment unmistakable to him. Zhongli has seen you peck strawberry after strawberry when baking strudels: a loose childlike passion glowing in your iris like a flower blooming in the light of spring, each time you laugh and say "Just one more."

Flour fights and sticky syrup. Melted butter and vanilla extract. All of that made the struggles of baking sweeter for Zhongli.

Thus, Zhongli crossed his arms like a ladle of pie while his eyebrows knit together: the calendar's date echoed in his mind as does a timer.

There were exactly five months before your birthday and Zhongli desperately wanted to bake a cake.

A cake for you, of course.

That desire echoed through his head; bouncing off the walls of his mind and amplifying in longing as his fingers traced over the memory of your figure in the kitchen baking at night: dim lights, the warmth of cinnamon enveloping the soul, a wool sweater, and street jazz which gradually swayed and erupted in sweet rapture.

Five months, from start to finish, he'll make that cake no matter how much flour smears his face and icing that dots his arms.

Your apartment is serenely quiet, darkness blanketing the walls as the liminal coolness of a spring night ushers itself in like a friend through an open window.

You heave a sigh. Gradually slipping your shoes off; balancing the small gifts in your palms like gems. You don't bother to flick the lights on, opting for ambient lighting found in your living room. However, as your feet bare the face of your cool wooden floor, the living room light flickers on and so does the warmth growing in your chest; readily awaiting to break the moment you step out of your body, taking the new form of blossom.

"Oh, Zhongli..."

Zhongli smiles gently, poignancy and subtle fear arising in his body, "Hello love."

You set the gifts down, your steps deliberate and unhurried, as if you were walking on glass, or the space between reality and a dream, the aroma of strawberries, vanilla and lemon consuming you whole. However, not before leaving you longing for more and soothing the ache from the soles of your feet after a long day. Inviting you back again and again to the tender layers of cake and frosting.

"Zhongli how did you...?"

"Bake the cake?" finishes Zhongli with a humorous smile on his lips, the flame of the candle wavering slightly. "I can confidently say it tastes just as wonderfully as it looks."

You emit a lighthearted giggle, your cheeks aching from the extent of the grin brought to your face. "Love you- you didn't have to-"

"But I wanted to," he interjects, balancing the cake in one hand as his other gingerly caresses your cheek. "Because you deserve it and much, much more."

From there, silence stirs and the faint beating of hearts loosens your joints and time mellows with each passing minute. From there Zhongli lifts the cake, and with one simple breath, you blow the candle. A wisp of smoke a spirit of tender solace.

Zhongli places the cake down before opening his arms and the two of you interlock, becoming one; molding together into one languid breath of life, drawn together by sugar, flour, and butter. You bury yourself in his shoulder, your arms reaching out to run through the rivers of his deep brown hair. "Tell me," you begin in a mere mutter, "How exactly did you bake the cake?"

Zhongli laughs quietly his hands rubbing circles on your back, "We can touch on that later my dear."

You hum in response, the two of you standing there amidst the songs of the streets whisking itself through the air, amidst the electrifying touch of another breaking and spreading like the yolk of an egg kissing a mixture of sugar, butter, baking power and bliss. And amidst the warmth of the heart rising like that of an oven. Heart in hand; being kneaded together into one unified loaf of bread.

"Happy birthday, my dearest."

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