#if it doesn’t say don’t reblog you’re good but I tag for it every time when I post something personal that a) loses context and

[lucyandthepen]

salted caramel | lmh ( m )

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

read the first part here!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Today is no exception.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re fucking impossible!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh…” you say smartly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s that mean?”

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

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

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

“Meaning?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s happening to me next time?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then I’ll teach you next time.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Gotta study all the same.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bingo.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

“If… who’s right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’d take it if you were with me.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Just promise me.”

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

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

On the third time, Mark pretty much gives up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Would if I could.”

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

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

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

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

“So come to class and write it yourself!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’d you get probation for, then?”

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

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

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

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

“You doing that too?”

“Shut — please, would you hurry?”

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

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

“Nothing. You’re lucky.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about yours?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then why are you—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s this even about?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No kidding.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s on your mind?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What does that have to do with me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop doing that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A mouth made for you to kiss.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you not want to?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“At least give me a full minute.”

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s… still a no for me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I want to hear it anyway.”

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

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

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

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

“Mark, what—”

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

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

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

“What’s your passcode?”

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

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

“What’s funny?”

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

“To what?” He sounds bemused.

“The view of me you have now.”

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

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

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

“With my life.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi, Hyuck.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m doing it right now.”

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

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

“Mark, I…. I’ve been— s-since—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“His cock fucking me in my stomach.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I already am.”

#mark x reader #mark x you #mark smut #mark scenario #mark scenarios #mark imagine #mark imagines #mark drabble #mark drabbles #nct dream x you #nct dream x reader #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 x you #nct x you #nct x reader #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct imagine #nct scenario #nct drabble #nct drabbles #nct smut #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream drabbles #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 drabbles #nct 127 imagines

[rafesfavgirl]

jj maybank headcanons

pairing: bf!jj x fem!reader

context: jj maybank as your boyfriend.

words: 657

warnings: definitely +18. mdni. daddy issues, marijuana use, alcohol use, abandonment issues, attachment issues, physical and mental abuse, SMUT

jj's 100% the definition of a "golden retriever" boyfriend.

your relationship doesn't start out all sunshine and rainbows at first, though.

y'all were definitely a friends with benefits to lovers story.

at first, y’all kept it completely physical because you were both afraid of getting too attached and hurting each other.

jj felt like this, especially. he just didn’t think he was good enough for you.

but even when y’all were just fucking, he’d do the sweetest things for you. including making sure you were all cleaned up afterwards.

once you started dating though, the sweetness only amplified.

he doesn’t have much money, but he ALWAYS brings you flowers that he’s picked from somewhere—whether that be some kook’s garden, the country club, or even outside the chateau.

you are his absolute number one priority and the most important thing in his life.

you’re his ray of sunshine.

whenever things get bad at home with luke, you’re the first person he comes to.

when luke hits him and he shows up at your door with bruises, you nurse him back to health.

when luke talks down to him and makes him feel like a piece of shit, you reassure him that he’s not.

“you’re perfect, j. it’s not your fault.”

he’s terrified of losing you.

sometimes he thinks you’re going to see all his flaws and leave him just like his mom did. you always tell him otherwise, though.

“i’m not going anywhere, baby.”

when he gets anxious after all the pogues start fighting, you squeeze his hand three times and that makes him feel better.

he’s convinced he doesn’t deserve you.

he always takes you out on adventurous little dates—and sometimes, y’all get in trouble for it.

you’re his number one surfing buddy.

he was the one who taught you how to surf.

your family’s the family he’s never had.

he loves when your family invites him over for dinner and he gets to play with your little siblings, who absolutely adore him.

when you and the pogues smoke together, his favorite thing is when you hold the joint out in front of him and let him take a hit that way.

you always help him with his party trick when he tries to do it on the hms pogue.

you’re the only one who can keep up with him when it comes to taking shots and drinking. john b, pope, and kie always tap out.

sometimes you get insecure about his close friendship with kie, but he always assures you that it’s only you.

“i love you. you got that?”

his favorite nicknames for you are mama, princess, baby, and baby girl.

you’re the only one he’s ok with addressing him by his full name—jesse james.

don’t think everything’s perfect though, sometimes you fight too.

especially about guns. and jj getting into fights.

you always nurse him back to health regardless, but you hate when he gives in and scrambles with whoever.

fights are non-negotiable if someone says shit about you, though.

not only will he go against your wishes about him fighting, but he’ll make sure he wins.

speaking of jealousy, it doesn’t happen often, but he definitely still gets jealous every now and then. and he loves reminding you that you're his.

“you’re mine, princess.”

he’ll show you that in bed too.

and since it's jj, he's an ABSOLUTE FREAK in the sheets, and kinky as hell too.

he'll tie you up, eat you out, and make you cum over and over again until you beg him to stop.

he loves bending you over and fucking you while giving your ass a little smack.

he chokes you occasionally, but prefers pulling your hair.

he will lick anything off of you and tease your clit until you're squirming.

he definitely has a daddy kink too.

when you give him head, he loves giving you facials.

and his favorite position is your legs on his shoulders.

reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated <33

click here to be added to my tag list!!

#jj maybank #jj #jj obx #jj outerbanks #soft jj #cute jj #cute jj maybank #jj headcanons #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank smut #jj smut #jj fluff #jj hcs #jj maybank headcanon #jj maybank x reader #jj x y/n #jj x reader #jj maybank x y/n

[lalal-99]

Sweet Thing {s.c.}

9 “ That feels good…” 14 “Spread your legs, sweet thing.” 33 “Please, just let me come!"

Changbin x afab!reader | trope: strangers to lovers, regular hookup turns serious | smut | wordcount: 1.8k

Synopsis: You know nothing about the hot guy you've been hooking up with for months. You're not even sure about his name. Obviously, you need to change that. In the middle of sex is probably not the right time, but so what?!

Warnings: explicit content | dni if your under 18

Smut Tags: Porn with Plot | Explicit Sexual Content | Making Out | Hook-up in Bathroom | Bathroom Sex | Fingering (reader rec.) | Oral (reader rec.) | Edging | Overstimulation | Teasing | Some Dirty Talk | Slight Praise Kink | Dom/Sub Undertones (Dom!Changbin) | Mirror Sex

Note: Well, I don't know what to say for myself. The prompt event happened in March/April 2022. And here I am, 2 years later. Some requested prompts are still in my inbox, and I do think I will write something for each eventually. For now, please enjoy this one :) Also, thanks @jl-micasea-fics for letting me use your prompts. I know it's been two years, but still, credit where its due ;)

Taglist: @skzho @bubblelixie @flakywig @itsallaboutkey @avyskai @mekuiikore @changbiddies0325 @knowleeknow @sensitiveandhungry @svintsandghosts @poutypoutybin @hyunjinswifeee @sunlitwilderness

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Please don't flag as mature or repost this story - Thank You!

“Spread your legs, sweet thing.”

Against every fibre in your body, you disobey and further the distance to the unbelievably attractive man instead. Much to his dismay.

“Hey,” he tilts your gaze towards himself by the touch of your jaw. A sweet gesture, seeing you were heavily making out seconds before. “What’s going on?”

Hidden away in the small bathroom of your favourite bar, you find yourself perched on the counter. Most definitely the product of the alcohol intoxicating your system.

“Sorry—” you excuse yourself, wiping your hands down the sides of face. “I’m good. Let’s keep going.”

Expecting him to continue where you had left of, you’re surprised to find him leaning against the wall. “Not until you tell me what’s going on in that stunning head of yours.”

A light blush spreads over your cheeks towards your ears and your lip wanders between your teeth. Because the reason for your distraction is so stupid.

“It’s just, we’ve been doing this for a while.” Hooking up at this very bar every weekend for the past few months. For the life of you, you can’t remember how it even started. Possibly with a conversation and his hand on your thigh. Probably with a few shots while celebrating your birthday. “And I don’t know anything about you.”

“Which hasn’t been a problem until now. So, where’s this coming from?”

The first few times were fun. Hooking up in the bathroom, words limited to the absolute necessary. If anything, it made it even hotter. Being with a stranger whose name you hardly remember. But then the comments started. You don’t know which of your friend was the first to say something. It might have been Seungmin, questioning how you could keep hooking up weekly without knowing the first thing about him.

And now you can’t shake the comment out of you if you try. The voice is a constant tenant of your metaphorical head-apartment. Living rent-free.

“My friends. They’ve been asking questions about you. None of which I can answer.” Which is stupid, because it shouldn’t matter. What matters is the incredibly handsome and muscular guy in front of you. Changbin— you think.

You’re surprised when he doesn’t laugh at or dismiss their concern. “Okay, then. Let’s do it.”

Cocking an eyebrow, you look down at his hands as they begin travelling up your thighs again. Leaving goosebumps as they burn into your skin.

“Do what?”

“Get to know each other. Might as well play 21 questions while we’re at it.”

His lips brush against your jaw before he urges them against your neck. Checking the quickening of your pulse as he licks at the veins.

“Come on. Hit me.”

But you can’t think. His touches are a true distraction, moans tumbling out of your mouth as you finally spread your legs for him. He slots between them, fitting like the last piece of a puzzle.

“You do know how 21 questions works, right?”

His hands grope at your flesh, pulling you closer until you can feel him against your most sensitive part. Why’d you have to speak up? He could have been inside you by now, but you had to open your stupid mouth.

“Yeah— Just— Can’t think.”

“Fine,” he gives in, pulling at your lip as he kisses you. You’re so hot, you wonder whether you’re nursing a fever. “I’ll tell you three things about me, then. Speed things up. ‘S that alright?”

“Please.” You’re begging now, nails digging into the skin of his bulky arms as he’s dragging his clothed crotch against you. “Feels so good.”

“First one.” Changbin pulls your top up over your breasts, freeing your bra. His thick fingers brush against your nipples, forcing a shudder through your body. “I go to the gym five times a week.”

“Obvious—ngh,” you agree turns into a throaty moan as he nibbles at your left breast. Your panties soaked already as you mumble into the night. “Deeper.”

“I’m not even inside you yet.” His chuckle vibrates through your torso. Then he grazes his teeth against your second nipple, and you might as well have lost your head.

“No. Tell me— fuck— tell something deeper. Something not— not everyone knows.”

You’re entering heaven when his hand wanders down your side and towards the hem of your skirt. It wiggles below the fabric, setting flames to your loins. You’re burning from the inside out as this stranger handles your body like he created it himself. Knows how to make you go absolutely insane. And that’s with his clothes still on.

“I call my mom every day.” That definitely fits the category of deep talk. Although, the thought of Changbin’s mother doesn’t exactly fit the moment. “Number three, I’d like to take you out one of these days.”

When the tip of his thumb reaches for your clit, you see the realisation hit his features in real time. You’ve ruined your panties and he can feel it. He has ruined you, and he can see it. From your rolled-back eyes to your tossed-back head. You’re in absolute ecstasy.

Changbin thumbs at your nub, drawing circles with your own wetness. Smirking with pride like a lunatic.

“Your turn, sweet thing. Three things about you, then you get to come.”

No words describe the hatred you feel for yourself when you realise he’s serious. The trajectory of earning your orgasm is as much arousing as it is frustrating. If only you hadn’t said a thing.

“I’m—” You tumble forward as his middle finger enters you. And him? He cocks his head at you, playing confused.

“Sorry? I don’t understand you. Can you speak up?”

Asshole.

“Music,” you mumble, breathless. “I like music. Listening. Making.”

“That’s one. You’re doing so good for me.” A kiss swallows the whine as he enters another finger. Your walls are clenching around him as his thumb practically attacks your clit. It feels so good, but it’s not enough and Changbin knows. “I tell you what. Give me a second, and I’ll give you a third. Sound good?”

You nod, frantic, needing—nay, craving—another one of his fingers.

“I’m good— good at— oh, God.” Hands are clawing at his shirt, the black and red fabric almost ripping from the strength he ignites in you. Your stomach is tensing tight, and he slows down. It’s an alarming promise, Changbin threatening to leave you high and dry if you don’t give him another one. A second fact about yourself. “Maths. I’m good at maths.”

You’re all but howling when he enters a third finger and curls them up against your spot. That’s when you loose the rest of control over your body. None of your movements are under your own command anymore, Changbin’s the sole reason you’re even still sitting upright.

“That’s two. I thought you were good at maths. You’re one short of earning my mouth, sweet thing.”

The promise alone almost makes you fall of the edge. His mouth on you. Coaxing you to your sweet, sweet release. It’s not far, but Changbin is the only one who can make you reach it. You don’t doubt he’ll leave you on the edge if you don’t give him a third fact.

It’s unfortunate that you can’t form coherent sentences anymore. Let alone think of a third fact about yourself. Absolutely pathetic.

“Please—” Swallowing the lump in your throat, you stare up at him, begging, pleading. “Please, just let me come.”

“Nuh-uh,” he teases with a smirk. A soft kiss hits your nose, then your lips. “That’s not a fact, sweet thing. Don’t you want to come on my tongue?”

Again, the thought alone has you clenching on his fingers. You’re so full, so close, and yet, can’t think of anything.

Maybe if you copy one of his facts, he won’t notice, right? But what was it he said? Oh, right. Gym, mom, date. But, you don’t go to the gym and you don’t talk to your mom daily.

“So, what is it?”

“Date!” you blurt out and he looks confused. “Take me out.” But that’s a prompt, not a fact, so you correct even further, teetering on the edge of heaven and hell. “I’d like it, I mean.”

Changbin debates for a second whether your words count as a fact. You can tell he wants to tease you some more, relishes in it. Thank God, he decides against it.

A sigh of relief escapes you when he finally leans down, pushes your skirt up and connects his lips to yours. And that’s all it takes.

One second his tongue prods against your clit, the next you’re coming on it.

And come, you do. You’re sure you’re squirting all over his face as he swallows up every bit of your release. Cleans you with his mouth until you’re glistening in spit and overstimulation. It doesn’t seem he wants to leave the space between your thighs and you have to drag him away when it becomes too much.

“Sweet, sweet thing,” he teases with a smile when he comes up, licking his lips. His hair is a mess, likely from your hands tugging at the strands and he looks like sex-on-legs. Cheeks dark pink, lips just as, and eyes blurry from arousal. He’s so, so hot, and you’re heating up again already as he’s kissing your lips with pure passion. “So, about that date…”

“Name a place and a time. I’ll be there.”

He chuckles, pulling you from the counter and turning you around. You will never tire from him, treating you like a doll. Bending and breaking you as he pleases. Those damn muscles flex as his arms wrap around your body and he pushes you up against the sink.

“We’ll get there. In fact…” he pulls your skirt over your asscheeks, giving them a delicious squeeze as he hums. Next thing you know, he frees his cock, reaching into his jeans to pull out a condom. And you wonder how Changbin is still so hot while wrapping himself in the latex. “How about you come three more times.”

You gulp at the thought, finding him in the mirror.

“One for a time and one for a place.”

That’s only two. You’re good at maths, or at least you think you are. Changbin might have fucked that brain right out of you.

“And the last one— one— fuck, you’re tight,” he praises as he enters you from behind.

Once he bottoms out, he collects himself, flicking your nipples as he watches you through the glass. And yet again, you’re a chaotic mess in his hands. With your head thrown back against his chest, you’re sent straight back to your own personal nirvana.

That’s when Changbin finishes his prior statement, a proud smirk glued to his face. “The last one’s simply for good measure.”

Masterlist Leave your thoughts!

#kpop smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #skz x reader #skz imagines #stray kids scenarios #kpop fanfic #skz scenarios #skz fanfic #changbin smut #stray kids fanfic #changbin x reader #skz hard thoughts #skz hard hours #stray kids hard hours #stray kids drabbles #stray kids hard thoughts #stray kids fanfiction #skz drabbles #seo changbin smut

[ncteez]

the bore next door (j.ww)

Jeon Wonwoo is not dull, nor is he the clean and polite neighbor that your mother assumed he was when she set you up on this awful date. 

or the one where wonwoo takes you home on the first date and renders you unable to walk, hoping to god that you don’t expose him to your parents.

ao3 | minors dni! | kindly leave feedback and reblog, i will kiss your forehead so fucking fast if you do. 

WORDCOUNT― 8.8k

PAIRING― wonwoo x afab reader

CONTENT― strangers to fucking immediately to the possibility of dating later, reader is a teacher but this is not a school setting, mocking and making fun, sneaky sex, flirting and bullying in the same instance, cocky wonwoo, um…they’re kind of competitive in bed

WARNINGS― small mention of other teachers cheating on their spouses (very tiny mention), the resistance of pressure to fall in love/have children

NOTE― I repurposed an old wip for this because putting this mf in the main role hit harder than it should have. that being said, don’t expect me to write men often like this, i just thought it would be neat to make him take control. this is not proof read.

smut tags under cut:: 

smut tags― dom(ish) wonwoo, bratty/sub reader, huge cock agenda (again), he gets the best head he’s ever had, he calls you messy a lot (he likes it messy),  face fucking, pussy eating, nipple biting, finger fucking, squirting,  dirty talk, wow i can’t believe I actually wrote a condom being used this time!!!!, wonwoo tries to make you moan because his horny brain wants your parents to know, dirty talk, praise, hair pulling.

~

23rd street. The restaurant is on 23rd street, and you can honestly say you’ve managed to hit every street but this one. From 13th street to 35th street, does the street in question even truly exist? Were you set up by your parents?

           In short, you have been single since high school. Maybe a few flings here or there throughout college but never truly settling on one man or woman in a relationship. You’re almost shocked that your parents are pushing so hard for you to find love. They want you to somehow feel the love from the movies, something like they had felt when they met. In this century, unfortunately, love isn’t quite as predictable. You can’t just pick a person who has a good job and a decent face and assume love will settle in someday.

           Not only is it not predictable but it isn’t a priority in your life. You have no interest in meeting the standard a man could hold for you, nor a woman, or family member. You’re here to exist in your own way, work your way up through the corporate food chain, and live in a home with over thirteen cats before dying a peaceful death in your late eighties. Why do you need a man to do any of this? Why do you need to settle for one cock, one set of hands, and one personality?

           Right, because mom wants you to at least try to experience what love is. Surely, it’s just because she desperately wants a grandchild from her one and only daughter. Sorry to disappoint, but that will not be you. Children were never a thought in your mind, nor was marriage, a honeymoon, or a burial plot next to another person. Your mother knows this, but the least you can do is show some effort to please her, right? To prove that relationships just aren’t your thing, and you’d much rather have the funds to live a comfortable life all on your own. 

           23rd street is the small thumb tack on a map where there is a restaurant that holds a very, very, annoying arrangement. Your mother had really sold the idea to you. She says the nice neighbor boy next to her seems to be around your age, he brings her the mail sometimes. He seems to have a job, his own car, his own home that sits in a plot next to theirs. His lawn stays mowed, and he even seems to have a dog that he walks at the same time three times a day. 

           She doesn’t mention what he looks like, and of course, when you’d asked because, in all honesty, that’s the most important thing to you if you’re going to get anything out of this, she simply states that he is tall, handsome, and has dark hair.

           For all you know, she just set you up on a date with Antonio Banderas. 

           What you weren’t expecting though, is to find this restaurant almost an hour late and walk in to find an already half-eaten meal in front of a man who looked at you as if you were any stranger on the street. A stranger you were, and so was he, but honestly, he is attractive. That alone made you feel a bit guilty for not having found this place sooner. The idea that the man in front of you did not wait for you shows that he also has priorities that aren’t you. This is probably a huge inconvenience for him too, if anything. Imagine your nice neighbor lady telling you to go to a restaurant to meet their daughter? God. The first words out of your mouth are an apology. Not for being late, and not for not even wanting to be here, but for your mother for even trying.

“Sorry about my mom,” you mutter, plopping down into the booth with a sigh. You eye over his food, already knowing that the check will likely be split. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Why the rush?” The man immediately says, pushing an untouched glass of water your way. “I don’t mind that you were late, I was just really hungry.”

           You hum at him, waiting for the waitress to come over so you can place the most obnoxious order in the world because you’re really not in the mood to even look at the menu or the prices. Chicken strips and fries, obviously.

“So, what did you order?” You state, eyeing his plate. 

“Steak?” He says it like a question, as if it is the most obvious thing in the world and it definitely was. Clearly there is a half-eaten steak that probably costs over twenty dollars on his plate. Still, you were just trying to make small talk.

           The man says nothing after this, offering nothing but an awkward atmosphere. It doesn’t take long at all for you to stop caring about the entire arrangement, as if you cared in the first place. 

“Look—” You try to offer, and the handsome man in front of you doesn’t even quirk a brow as he sips his own drink. “I don’t even remember your name, and I know my mom is trying to set us up but—”

“You’re not interested, and you have better places to be?” The man finishes for you as he sits his drink down with a gulp that makes much less sound than your own. “That’s fair. My name is Wonwoo, by the way.”

           You nod at him, already deciding that you’ll get chicken strips somewhere else on your own so that you can eat them in the comfort of your own home, alone, without a stupidly handsome man in front of you that has, probably, less interest than you do.

“Well, I’m interested, and I don’t have anywhere better to be,” Wonwoo says, shooting his eyes up at you. “And to be quite honest with you, your mother was right. You are pretty.” 

           Taken aback, you’re somehow comforted by his forwardness towards you. He acts just as uninterested as you do but counters that demeanor with his words. You can’t imagine that this is how the man picks up women, there’s honestly no way he would win that way. No wonder he is single.  Then again, you kind of do the same thing. You see an attractive person and you act much the same as Wonwoo right now. Uninterested in anything long-term but clearly interested in something. 

“I’m pretty, huh?” You laugh, sipping the water and internally giving this man an extra three minutes to fully sell the idea of this date to you. “Imagine my surprise to walk in and find that I was set up on a date with someone that is actually attractive.”

“Oh?” Wonwoo quirks a brow. “Is this how you return a compliment?” 

           You shrug. “Is this how a date normally goes for you—you know, where you’ve already eaten your food and would probably rather pay and leave before she even gets a chance to order?”

“No,” he responds pointedly. “Would you rather me throw a tantrum that you were late?”

“You’d be a lot less dull if you did.” You throw back, eyeing a waitress as she heads over. 

           Wonwoo watches as you place your order and watches a bit harder at the way you smirk at yourself through nearly everything you say. You must think you’re clever, you must think he’s willing to chase you or something.

“I’m dull?” He questions, staring you down with narrowed eyes. “You just ordered chicken strips at one of the most expensive restaurants in town.”

           You’re taken aback a bit, shaking off his little insults and sitting straight up. Interesting date, truly.

“Okay then, Wonwoo—” You say his name as if it’s a joke or something, but you don’t really let him react to it. “What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a systems software developer,” he deadpans, swirling his very nonalcoholic water in his hand. “Not that you’d know what that is or anything. And you?”

           In all honesty, you don’t really know what that means, but it isn’t hard to figure it out. Assuming he must make programs or something, assuming he probably flew through college in order to do it in the way he seems proud of what he does. In all honesty, it still sounds like such a bore. He must talk in code or something in his free time. 

“I’m—uh—I’m a teacher.” You try to laugh, realizing that you’re kind of putting him down when he very clearly must make more money than you do. 

           Only now does it set in that your mother stated he has his own home. One that sits directly beside theirs in a neighborhood that you grew up in. One that you tried to find your own home in but ended up in a shitty apartment in the city because it is all you could afford. Wonwoo must make good money. 

“Oh yeah? What do you teach?” He perks up in interest, no longer acting as if he is trying to insult you and instead offering conversation to you with such ease that you almost forget you’re supposed to be getting through the date in discomfort. 

“I teach everything, I guess. It’s just first grade. I swear, I teach them how to pull up their pants properly more than how to spell words.” You smile to yourself thinking of the loud and obnoxious children you teach five days a week. Your job is why you don’t want children though. Your job is why you’d rather stay single. All you hear about is how the third-grade English teacher is fucking the fifth-grade science teacher even though he has a wife who is pregnant with their second child. Sometimes you hear gossip about the students themselves. Who in their right mind as an adult would gossip about elementary school kids? It’s no wonder you’re not a favored teacher. You’re sure they’ve said something about you for not having a significant other or a child on the way. 

           Wonwoo smiles through your endearment towards your class, eyes perking up at the plate of chicken strips on their way to you. He doesn’t say much when you thank the waitress and doesn’t really pay attention to the way you devour the first strip in nearly one bite. 

“Seems like a lively job. I just sit around all day staring at a computer screen…” He begins to drone on about his own job, sounding more like background noise in your head if you’re being honest. You can barely hear him over the crunching of your chicken and you’re a bit thankful for that.

“And I think that it was really worth the—” You interrupt his long string of sentences with a call of his name. “Wonwoo, do you have any other interests?” You ask, sipping your water.

           He deadpans at your rudeness of interrupting him. Wonwoo doesn’t often go out on dates, nor does he often get asked about these types of things so, he goes quiet, flicking his eyes down to his hands and then back up to you.

“I like to go hiking, I guess? Watching movies? Sometimes I like to cook—”

           Ah. He’s one of those guys. 

“Those are like, the most common interests a person can have. You don’t have any special hobbies or weird quirky things you like to do?” You question, trying to see something in him past the fact that he’s nice to look at and has a decent paycheck. 

“I don’t really have the time to put into other things. When I’m not working, I’m busy cleaning my house or doing yard work since I’m usually too tired during the week to do it.”

“God, you are such a bore.” 

           Wonwoo realizes now that maybe you’re not just throwing around banter. Sure, neither of you really wanted to come on this date but he could have used the time away from a computer screen to look at his neighbor’s daughter. If anything, it was an interesting offer, and those don’t come by him too often. He had seen photos of you. He knew you were pretty, and he also should have known you were a bit stubborn with the way your mother warned him before the date.

“If I was so boring, would I be sitting here on a date with a woman I don’t know?” He glares over at you. 

“I don’t know, probably. It isn’t the riskiest thing in the world. What? You don’t have tinder?”

           Wonwoo looks down again, because no, he doesn’t have fucking tinder and he doesn’t understand why that matters.  “Why does that matter?” 

“Ah, so we are similar.” You smile to yourself in a small win, and you’re not even sure if it’s even an argument at this point. “No time for hobbies, so no time for dating either?” 

           He nods slowly at you, completely confused by the way you go from picking his personality apart to finding some way to connect with him. 

“We can wrap this up then if you want?” You offer, still picking at the food on your plate. “I can pay for mine, so I release you from this arrangement.” 

           He just sits there staring at you. What a peculiar woman. Do you really assume he isn’t somehow finding the fun in all of this? In all honesty, this date is going off without a hitch compared to many other dates he’s been on. He has never been on a date where he is criticized, nor has he ever criticized a date himself before. It’s almost kind of nice, like a breath of fresh air being able to meet someone who isn’t trying to show their best aspects. Someone who is sitting in front of him being as real as they possibly can be. Sure, you’re attractive, but your lack of interest in this date is somehow—flooring.

“What if I want to stay?” He makes eye contact with you. “What if I want to pay for your overcooked chicken?” 

“I’d be letting you win if you pay for me, but you’re free to stay.” You wave him off with your hand, realizing that the chicken is very dry and wasn’t hitting the spot like you’d been pretending. “So, what now then?” You add with a tilt of the head. 

“Admitting I’m interested in you, I guess?” He says it with so much confidence that you barely notice the ‘I guess’ at the end of his sentence. It surprises you a little bit, because this entire time you’ve been trying to act as uninterested as possible, despite finding some amount of attraction to Wonwoo..

“Poor you,” You coo, pushing your plate away from you and pulling your almost-empty water closer. “Okay, let’s try and make this worth something then.” 

           Wonwoo prepares himself to listen, but honestly, he couldn’t have prepared for what you’re about to say to him.

“Neither of us are looking for anything serious right?” You ask, continuing after he nods. “So,” you pause briefly, thinking a bit too hard on how to word it. “Why don’t we just pretend this is a tinder date or something?”

           You’re definitely implying that the night could continue together, only to never speak of or see each other again after the sun rises. 

“Are you suggesting I bring you home with me?” He looks at you with a face you can’t really read. 

“Isn’t that what people do when they’re on a date, find each other attractive, but want nothing more?” You reiterate for him, because he seems to have trouble processing what you’re trying to get across to him. “Unless this isn’t your thing?”

           Wonwoo pulls his hand up and pushes his hair out of his face for a moment. He’s thinking about it, barely even realizing that you’ve known each other for less than an hour.

“I didn’t take you for the type of fuck on the first date.” He cocks his head, looking at you in a lazy way.

           It feels a little painful that the first curse word he says out loud is describing something that involves you and your offer. 

“I’m not, usually, but it has been a while for me and I can’t help but think we could have fun with it.”

           He nods, eyeing you down. “Do you want to just drive to my house then? Or do I need to bring you back to get your car?”

“Nah, I can drive. I know where you live, considering I grew up next door and all. I can just crash at my parent’s house once we are done.”

           Wonwoo kind of shifts his eyes nervously, looking down at the table and then back at you with a lick against his bottom lip. “Speaking of your parents—” He pauses, fiddling with his hands. “Look, they probably wouldn’t expect me to be the type to uh, get intimate with their daughter on the first date.”

“Only date,” you correct him, amused. “What, you thought we would meet again after this?”

           Wonwoo waves you off dismissively. “That’s not the point. I don’t want my neighbors thinking I’m some fuckboy, and I’d rather them not find out because I’m sure your mom would slap the shit out of me the next time I bring her the mail.”

“Wonwoo—” You snort in a mocking tone. “My mom set you up on a date with me, you’re gonna take me home and show me a good time within an hour of meeting me. Imagine if she found out you’re not as sweet and innocent as she thinks–”

           His face goes warm, but his eyes darken a bit as he looks at you. “Listen, I don’t usually do this.” 

“Well yeah, you seem too boring to actually have some fun.” 

           Offense taken. 

           And when he says nothing else to that, you speak up again, this time a bit more gentle. 

“Don’t feel like you have to. I can go home and we can pretend this never happened.”

“No, no,” Wonwoo assures, making eye contact with the waitress as if to silently ask for the check. “I could use the distraction.” 

           He was slim when he stood up, obnoxiously attractive getting into his stupid expensive car, and even the way he drove in front of you pissed you off. He drove the speed limit all the way to the familiar street of your childhood. What a boring, boring man.

           When he pulls into his driveway, you aren’t sure if you should park at his house or your own. You realize if you park at either your parents will wonder why you’re parking in their driveway but not in their living room, or wonder why you’re parked in the clean-cut Wonwoo’s driveway because he would never fuck their daughter on the first date. 

           You opt to park two houses away. You already know who the person is who lives in this house and surely they’d only raise a brow at your car being there. You shoot them a text just in case though, because god forbid if they mention it to your parents.

 ~

 “Fitting,” you say as you step into his living room and scan the way he is entirely fucking boring.

 “What?” He asks from behind you, watching you judge his space.

 “Very boring, very you.”

             Wonwoo sighs at your constant critiques of him, but he’s still smiling through it because you’re still here, and you’re the one who suggested coming home with him.

 “I’ve gotta say, I’ve never brought a woman home just to have her insult me,” he laughs, stepping around you and placing his jacket on the end of the couch. “I can imagine that your place hasn’t been cleaned since you moved in.”

             You glare at him, slipping your own jacket off and throwing it on his floor out of spite.

 “I am a comfortable mess, Wonwoo, and you–” you scan the room once more, “are very clearly uncomfortable.”

             He shifts his eyes for a second because, yeah. It’s not that he wouldn’t enjoy having colorful photos on the walls or a couple of knick-knacks lying around. Arguing about it isn’t your purpose for being here though, and he’d much rather skip the banter at this point.

 “I can admit that your jacket looks good on my floor,” he takes a step forward, attempting to be as bold as he typically would be with a woman who knows how he is in bed. He’s never had to play off of his own cleanliness though. “I’m willing to make a mess of this house if you take more off.”

             Oh, okay.

 “Oh, so you can be interesting?” You mock him once again, reaching for the hem of your dress (yes, dress.) and looking at him. “You want to see my clothes on your floor?”

             Wonwoo watches you intently, seeing your thighs being exposed more and more as the dress raises. His body is already reacting, becoming more and more attracted to your witty sense of displeasure toward his entire personality and lifestyle. After all, he’s a computer whizz and you deal with screaming children all day. He wonders why he expected anything less. Little do you know though, he fully intends to have you praising him before the night is up.

 “I’d like to see you on my floor,” he answers, reaching for your dress and pulling it up further and above your head. “If I’m being honest, anyway.”

             You were trying to go slow with the removal of your dress, mostly to see how he reacts to seeing a woman nearly naked in front of him but damn. You weren’t quite expecting how forward he’s being about it. Here you were expecting to be fucked missionary without any foreplay in a bed with all white sheets, right next to a washer and dryer.

 “Oh,” you gasp, slightly out of character in his opinion but his body reacts even more to that. He’s entering into his horny brain, confidence bubbling up through each thought and word he decides to say to you.

 “What, you’re shocked?” He laughs, dropping your dress to the floor and scanning your body. “I can admit that I’m a little shocked too.” 

             You look at him in confusion, moving your arms over your chest and wondering what the fuck he’s talking about. 

 “You wore a matching set for a first date? With a stranger?” He mocks you this time, stepping even closer and running his fingers along the hem of your bra. You can feel the warmth from his thumb gently rubbing the skin as he does it and instantly your body tells on you in the form of goosebumps. 

 “I’ll have you know,” you’re the one stepping closer this time, “I always wear matching sets, because I like to feel sexy.” 

             You’re a liar. You definitely wore them just in case.

             He hums, mere inches from your face as he looks down at you. It feels like he’s fucking looming, and even worse, it feels like he must have his heat set too high or something. It gets even worse when his eyes don’t leave yours, but you feel his hand drop from your chest only to hear the familiar sound of a belt being unbuckled. He stares at you while he does it, his hair falling in his face at the movement of what he’s doing waist down. For some reason, that does it for you, and you’re already rubbing your legs together as you stare right back at him. 

 “I think that’s bullshit,” he smirks, slipping his belt from the loops of his pants and tossing that to the floor as well, and then he brings his face another inch closer, “and don’t think I can’t tell that you’re turned on.” 

             You don’t back down, nor do you admit that he’s absolutely right. You just look at him, watching a strand of his hair fall in front of his eyes that are beginning to darken by the second. 

 “I’m not turned on, believe me, it’ll take a lot more than–” You’re cut off by him planting his hand directly between your legs, two fingers pressing your panties slightly into you. 

 “Hm?” He encourages you to say that again, but you’ve got your breath caught in your throat at his extreme change in demeanor.

             Still, he’s looking directly at your face, watching the way you try to think of a lie. 

 “You wanna keep pretending that I’m boring?” He asks, sliding his fingers up and pressing against your clit. 

             You shake your head, finally dropping the act and blinking at him with empty thoughts. 

 “That’s what I thought,” He ticks his tongue at you, now pulling his fingers away and showing you that even through your panties, his fingers are already soaked. “Now take the rest off.”

             You do as he says, watching him step away with his shirt untucked and his pants undone. You note that he grabs a condom, which for some reason reminds you that you’re definitely about to get railed into the next dimension if that bulge behind those pants implies anything. 

             Standing there with all of your clothes thrown around his living room, you watch him harder than you already had been. He’s slow when he sets the condom down on the table, and even slower when he walks up to you and places a hand on the top of your head before guiding you to sink down.

 “Wha–right here?” You ask, feeling the clean carpet offer relief for your knees rather than the hard wood floors of the room over. 

 “I said I wanted to see you on my floor, didn’t I?” He smiles, already admiring how shameful you’d appear to be if your parents saw you naked and on your knees for him. 

             You nod, looking up at him. When you reach forward to actually lower his pants though, he steps back and continues to create distance between the two of you as he backs himself up to the wall and lounges against it. 

 “Crawl to me,” he instructs, wondering if it’s too much for you but letting out a pleased sound of relief when you instantly do it.

             Would you normally let a man tell you to do that? No. Would you ever actually listen to a man who speaks to you like this? Fuck no. You can’t defend your actions when you do it and you also can’t lie that you’re absolutely fucking dripping over it. Like, honestly, he’s going to have to deep clean this fucking carpet by the time you leave this house. 

             When you reach him, you can feel the heat in your cheeks at the very idea of him from this angle. You sit on your knees, lifting your hands to his pants and lowering them before he can try to draw the process out even longer. You can hear him let out a short chuckle at the way you try to be quick with it, and you already know he’s about to say some shit.

 “I didn’t expect you to be this eager.” He talks down to you with a deep and raspy voice, one that sounds entirely sensual. In terms of what he says though, honestly, you shouldn’t expect much more considering how the two of you practically roasted each other on a fire before this very instant. 

             You ignore his words, letting his pants drop to the floor and now reaching to pull his briefs down. You were incredibly unprepared for his size as you watched it stand stiff and raging in front of your face. Not a single hint of precum is seen, and it makes you feel kind of pathetic for how wet you’ve already gotten. It almost feels like a challenge now, to make him feel just as desperate as you do now. 

             Thankfully, your throat is fairly trained for sucking men until they’re trembling. Hopefully, all those dudes you’ve fucked around with before come in handy, and don’t let you down this time around. 

             Wonwoo watches you from above, smiling over the way you stare at his length before finally touching it. He keeps his cool though, wondering how just over an hour ago you were ordering the worst food a restaurant has to offer, scoffing at his job, his hobbies, and now look at you. What a sight. 

 “Go on,” he encourages you, pressing his hips forward so that the head of his cock hits your cheek, “let me see how messy you are.”

             You roll your eyes at him, gripping the base before closing your eyes and breathing in through your nose. The very second you wrap your lips around him, he has both hands on your head, not moving it, not pushing you down or anything, just resting there. You’d think it was sweet if it weren’t for the fact that he pushes his hips forward after four whole seconds.

             So, he’s not going to guide your mouth, he’s going to hold it there? Okay, you guess. Thankfully, he’s not being super rough with it like you anticipated. If anything, he’s sliding himself into your mouth much as you’d do on your own. 

             He hums out at the feeling of your mouth, pressing in more and more with each thrust of his hips until he finally gets the majority of his length past your lips. He can see you breathe through your nose, but he doesn’t feel resistance at all so he presses his hips in even more, essentially until he’s blocking your airways and your throat is restricted around him in a gag. 

             Instead of pulling your head back though, he feels your fingers grip the back of his legs, you’re trying. He holds your head there in place, feeling your throat massage his cock in probably one of the best ways he’s ever felt. 

 “Shit,” he seethes out between a bite of his lip, “you’ve done this before?” 

             The very thought of you letting your throat be used is enough for him to want to keep doing it, but hearing your response as a half-moaned gag vibrating around his length is a whole other story. 

             He releases his hands from behind your head just to see if what he thinks you’re implying with those vibrations of sounds is right, and god is he thrown for a loop. You stay there, and even when he pulls his hips back before fucking into your throat once more, you still stay there.

             He’s going to lose his goddamn mind because never has a woman been able to withstand this amount in their throat for this long for him. Enough to actually have him a little worried that you’re essentially suffocating on him. 

             Wonwoo snaps his hips back, pulling out of your mouth and leaning down just a bit to grab your chin and guide your eyes up to him. 

 “Breathe,” he says, watching the way you smirk at him as if you’ve won some sort of award. He narrows his eyes at you, “you can choke all you want babe, but you’re gonna have to not be this cock drunk if you want to pretend that you’ve got the upper hand.”

           That motherfucker. You’re trying to make him show just a hint of desperation for you and he completely flips the tables on you? 

             Before you can even argue again, he’s guiding your lips back on him. You decide that it’s not over yet, he can talk down to you all he wants, but you’re going to be the one laughing at him by the end of the night. 

             You allow him to place his hands back on your head, and you kind of like the weight of his cock on your tongue if you’re being honest, but god damn does he have a harsh rhythm. His hips snap languidly but he buries himself deep.  Even when you try to look up at him as your nose presses against his pubic bone, he’s looking down at you so casually. Like he feels okay. Just okay. 

             This time, when he pulls his hips back, he doesn’t have to hold your head steady. You chase his length even as it tries to slide from your mouth, and you start to move your head back and forth in time with his hips. You finally receive a moan from him when you reach a hand up and cup his balls, massaging them in one hand as your saliva bubbles out from around your lips.

 “So fucking messy–” he chokes out in a surprised moan, praising you for somehow making this feel even better than it already did. 

             You hum around him again, feeling the weight of his cock pulse against your tongue and you start to taste more and more of his precum. Shamefully, you’re starting to want this more and more. You want him to call you messy, you want him to bruise your throat. You don’t mind, now that you’ve seen a snippet of what he’s like when he shows his pleasure.

             Just a moment goes by when you feel his hands grip your hair, pulling slightly and following the rhythm of your movements, just putting a bit more force behind them until he finally presses you one last time against his pelvic bone, swirling his hips and stretching out your throat impossibly more around him. 

 “Just like that, yeah,” his moans echo throughout his empty walls and it causes your eyes to flutter as you try to breathe in through your nose. When you gag, he moans again. “Fuck, you know exactly what you’re doing.”

             Then, he releases you and watches with a smirk at the way you pull back in a deep breath before wiping your mouth. 

             You’re not sure why, but the way he’s looking at you makes you feel proud. Maybe it’s because he’s managed to pull out this weird, needy side of you, or maybe it’s because he looks incredibly good looking at you like this after the two of you spit insults at each other all right. 

 “Do you want me to return the favor?” He asks, finally unbuttoning and removing his shirt.

             Seeing him now, you stare at his chest and toned arms, wanting to grab onto them and feel him do whatever it is he wants to do to you. He, on the other hand, can’t tell if you’re nodding to his question or looking him up and down slowly. 

 “You were so talkative earlier, what happened?” He smiles, stepping forward and falling to his knees himself, nudging your legs open in one go, “do you want to fuck my tongue, or no?”

             He continues to smile at your silence, eyes trained between your legs as he spreads them and then looks up at your face. “No?” 

             You shake your head, leaning back on your elbows to watch him and take a breath in.

 “It’s hard to talk when you’re like,” you motions towards him, “that.”

             He chuckles, taking it as a compliment before snatching a pillow off of his couch and tapping your thigh to get you to lift up. You do so, allowing him to place the pillow under your ass before he settles himself there.

           His eyes stay locked on yours as his fingers start to trail to your core, slipping through your folds with such ease that your embarrassment shows plainly on your face. 

 “Messy,” he compliments, lightly tapping against your clit before lowering his head and blowing softly against the glistening heat you offer to him. “Keep your legs spread for me babe.”

             You still watch him, his eyes glaring up from between your spread thighs as he lets his tongue fall from his mouth and lick one long and languid stripe up your core, stopping just before your clit and pulling back as if he’s tasting. You’re not sure what it is about him but goddamn, he must know he looks good when he’s pleasuring a woman. 

             Despite him asking you to keep your legs spread for him, it appears that he doesn’t trust you to do it because he’s still got one hand prying one of your legs apart and his head moving in all sorts of ways as he allows his tongue to lap every part of you besides your clit. Even his other hand, exploring and gently placing pressure against your entrance– the way he’s doing this makes you want to press forward, it makes you want to do exactly as he asked. 

             You roll your hips forward, and he instantly attaches his lips to your clit. You stop, and he trails back down and flicks his tongue against your folds in a teasing way. You grind forward, he’s right back on your clit, flicking his muscle the same way and eliciting a whine from you. 

             This time though, when you roll your hips back, he takes both hands and presses your legs open as far as he can get them, spreading your pussy out across his lips for him to take full control of. He nips at your clit before licking down, pressing the pointed muscle into you and only then does he release your legs. Now, he’s sliding both hands under your ass and rocking you against his face, angling his head so that he can lick inside of your walls to truly taste you.

             God, you’re gonna lose it. Even if you didn’t want to, you’d think the way he’s moving his mouth is enough to get anyone to take advantage of it. You moan, pressing forward and back against his mouth as your own fingers fall to your clit. You rub when you press forward, feeling his warm and wet saliva drip down your slit and down to your ass, and you rub harder when you pull back, watching his eyes flutter open and still somehow manage to glare at you.

             And just as soon as it started, you blink and his face is right there. You would have let out a shocked sound, because jumpscare much? But you moan instead, because he hovers over you with a smirk and an arm between the two of you, his fingers instantly sliding into you as he attaches his lips to yours with little more than a moan of his own. 

 “Have you ever tasted yourself?” He asks, licking against your lips and scissoring his fingers open inside of you.

             You have, but for some reason it tasted better this time when he prods his tongue against yours. Perhaps because it’s from him, or maybe it’s because you’re a little obsessed with the way he navigates sex. 

             When he pulls back from your mouth, now losing himself a little bit in the heat of the faces you make when you feel good, he can’t help but give you a moan along with your own. You sound so fucking good when you’re not talking your shit, and god he knew that mouth could do more than be annoying. 

 “Open up,” he says, licking against your bottom lip as he thrusts his fingers deeper into you, “let me hear you.”

             You can’t really help it. When you open your mouth, you’re practically panting for him. His arm is moving harshly as he fucks his fingers into you and causing you to nearly lose balance on your elbows, but he holds you there with his other arm wrapped around your waist, still licking against your lip and smirking when you still can’t say anything. 

 “Louder,” He instructs, at least wanting you to moan louder for him if you’re going to act like this when he’s touching you. “Let your parents hear you get fucked.” 

             Your eyes shoot open after that, and god, he is the fucking worst. Or maybe not, you can tell he does it on purpose. His fingers curling up inside of you and putting intense pressure against a spot that takes every man ages to find if they manage to even remember it.

 “Wonwoo,” you groan, rolling your eyes back while rolling your hips forward, hand shooting to his and holding it there, “can’t you just fuck me already?”

             He chuckles, dipping his head down to give a sharp bite against your nipple, his fingers still curling up into that spot. 

 “Come on my fingers first.” He says, floored by how good your voice sounds when you want to get fucked. 

             He continues to suck and bite against your nipple, and that sends shocks of pleasure straight down to where his fingers meet your g-spot. You could come right now if he’d just–

             You roll your hips forward harder, grinding your clit against his wrist and essentially fucking yourself on his fingers now. He moans against your nipple at the movement, biting down harder as he hears you just above him holding your breath. It seems like you like not being able to breath, which is just fucking great for him. Your mom would be so heartbroken, honestly. 

 “You think you can ride my cock like this?” He asks, popping your nipple out of his mouth and moving those bites up your neck and to your ear, “think you can come around me twice tonight?”

             You nod with heat rushing through your body, feeling his wrist stiffen up for your pleasure to grind against. 

           Fuck, he can feel your pussy gripping his fingers as you work yourself up and it takes everything in him not to pull his fingers from you and absolutely bury himself into the tight heat you’re offering, but he holds back, pulling from your neck and watching the way your brows furrow and your mouth falls slack.

 “That’s it babe, ride it.” he encourages, hearing your wet slide against his fingers with each movement of your body.

             You shake as it washes through you, feeling his fingers remain in their spot against your little bundle of pleasure inside of you. You feel like you can explode from this alone and he practically forces it out of you, pulling his fingers out and immediately rubbing circles on your clit. 

 “Let it go,” he encourages in a pleasured sigh, watching your body tremble involuntarily as your face contorts to what anyone else would assume is pain. He moves further back and watches your body soak both him and his floor. “Fuck, yes, such a fucking mess.”

             Well, that’s never happened before and the fact that you’re still orgasming is also new. You feel so sensitive, releasing in waves that offer little in terms of self control. Your hands shoot to his arm, gripping him so tightly as you try to hear his moans for you, but to be honest, you can’t hear a fucking thing through this wall of arousal in your head. 

             Finally, you open your eyes and he’s just looking at you, smirking at the dripping against his legs and the wet spot on the floor. 

 “Can you stand?” He asks with a chuckle, but his face is slightly amazed.

             This is the first time Wonwoo has ever had a woman squirt for him, and honestly he’s been trying for ages to let someone experience this through him, goddamn was it sexy to see. You look absolutely fucking gone at this moment, and he might be fucking in love with the image. 

 “Come on,” he says, not giving you enough time to even think about standing before he’s pulling you up on wobbling legs and guiding you to his couch. “Don’t worry, I like the mess.” He smiles, snatching up the condom and tearing the wrapper open with ease before rolling it down his length.

             Oh, right, he still hasn’t even fucked you yet. Fuck, he’s good.

             He sits himself next to you, pulling an arm around your waist and guiding you on top of him. He doesn’t even think twice at your shaking legs, soothing them as you follow his hand and position yourself against his long neglected cock being held up with his other hand. 

 “Can you ride me?” he genuinely asks this time, still seeing the shine against your legs from your recent orgasm, he continues to soothe the shaking in them though, hoping to god you’ll do the same thing on his cock. 

             You nod, knowing that once you’re seated, you have both his broad chest and the back of the couch to keep you steady. And when you sink down, you hear the sound you’ve been trying to pull from him all night. He lets out a soft moan, almost a whimper if you think hard enough about it, and it ignites a brand new fire in you as you take him in inch by inch.

             He can feel you clench, and your legs shaking only offer even more in terms of pleasure as you envelope him entirely with your heat. He can’t help but moan, almost unable to keep up his dominant persona with a pussy so sweet wrapped around him. God, he loves blind dates, honestly. 

 “Mhm,” he hums, rubbing both of his hands now against your thighs as you sit yourself flush against him and wait to adjust to his size, “I definitely like you.”

             You fall forward with a small laugh, the irony of the situation a bit too much on top of your mind falling helplessly and embarrassingly fast at how lucky you are to have a mother to set you up with such a man. 

             He’s a bit soft at this moment, wrapping both arms around your waist and listening to your breathless laughs against his neck. You’re pretty, and so fucking annoying. Just his type. 

 “I’m still going to fuck you senseless though.” he finally says, feeling your body still at his words as you lift a bit, just to slide back down on him.

 “Is that a promise?” You ask weakly, pretending that he didn’t already manage to do it with his hands alone. 

             He nods, the softness in his eyes disappearing instantly when he feels the drag of your pussy hug his length. He doesn’t hold back his moaning for you this time though, and he shows no shame in slapping your ass and guiding you even closer to his chest. 

             You stand on your knees a bit on top of him, watching his eyes zone in on your tits in his face. Hopefully, he’s going to keep that promise. 

             His hips snap up harshly as his hands grope your ass and spreads you apart. He snaps his hips again and again, nearly pulling his entire length out of you each time just to fill you up once again. You bounce a bit each time, and you can also feel his lips graze against your nipple each time he does it. 

             You whimper out, the sounds still echoing throughout his house along with the sounds of your thighs slapping against his. His grunts are deeper, and all of the sounds together sound like a desperate soundtrack of what you’ve always wished sex was like. He fucks you good, despite your legs still shaking, and despite the pain of his teeth biting against your skin now. 

             You can’t help it when you fall forward again, hugging around his head as he starts to relentlessly fuck into you at a faster pace, the thrusts going from slow and deep to tight and pointed. His thick cock easily pressing against that same spot his fingers had been teasing earlier. You choke out at the feeling, legs jolting and causing you to sit again. 

             He doesn’t falter at your failure to stay in position for him, and instead he gropes your ass harder, swirling your hips around him. You can feel how hard he is inside of you, splitting you open and pulsing at a near constant pace. 

 “Ride it,” he instructs, much like he did with his fingers and you follow suit, lifting just slightly and sliding back down again. “Harder,” he demands, pulling his head from your grasp and looking up at you with a wild smirk. 

             You look down at him, wondering how pitiful you must look up here. He appears to be loving it though, absolutely in love with the way you struggle to do what you swore you’d be able to. 

             Trying again, you begin to bounce on him and he grants you his fingers on your clit for that, moaning at your own choice of rhythm and leaning forward yet again to pop his presumed favorite nipple back into his mouth.

             The ministrations of his fingers paired with his mouth sends you spiraling once again into a world of pleasure. The shaking in your legs become more of a driving factor than anything as you ride him better than you’ve ever ridden anyone.

             Finally, he’s the one moaning out and trying to string together choked words of praise.

 “Your grip is so tight,” he mutters out, kissing up your chest and to your neck, “i can fucking feel you dripping down my legs.” He adds in a moan, losing himself in the way you move your hands through his hair and scratch at the nape of his neck. He wants to ruin you so badly, and he’s already drenched in you. He wants more. 

             You could have sworn he said he was going to make you come twice, now look at him, muttering out strings of curse words as you do nothing but ride and pet him. He’s melting under you, and you’ll be damned if he comes before you get that second orgasm. 

             Shooting your hand to your clit to replace his lazy movements, you work yourself up to your second orgasm and he just watches you, taking in the image of you practically riding him into oblivion until you’re clenching even tighter around him, throwing your head back and shooting your hands to his shoulders as you harshly roll your hips into his. You’re working yourself through it when he starts pumping into you, short and tight thrusts pushing you through your orgasm until he’s gripping you equally as hard, holding you down on him as he spills out and into the condom in more of a purr than a moan.

             You watch him, dazed out of your fucking mind as he bites against his bottom lip and slowly blinks through his orgasm as you. Part of you wishes he just did it raw, wanting so badly for him to make a mess of you like you did to him.

 ~

             You find yourself with him at your parent’s house just a week later, eating lunch in the chaotic mess of your mother’s kitchen. It’s funny, really, how he’s trying to be polite to her as if he’s not about to take you next door and probably fuck you against an open window just to blow his own cover.

 “I told you he was a keeper,” your mother compliments him as she lays a plate of croissants on the table. “Just yesterday he offered to mow our lawn when we head off for vacation this weekend!”

             She’s praising him much like you wouldn’t, and you kick him under the table for trying to suck up to her even more now that he’s fucked you already. 

 “Did he now?” You ask, glaring over at him and then smiling sweetly at your mother. “Guess he is kind of a keeper, maybe.”

             His eyes shoot to you and he smiles around his bite of croissant at you. 

 “You were right though,” he counters you towards your mother, “she’s definitely a handful.”

             Your mother crosses her arms as she leans against the counter, looking between the both of you. 

 “How many dates have you been on without telling me?” She asks, looking at you.

 “A few…” If she considers it a date to meet up and fuck every other day this week.

 “We had lunch a few days ago.” he adds, backing you up. It’s just that the lunch wasn’t exactly like–you know, at a restaurant, and maybe it wasn’t food…

 “So, are you guys going to be exclusive, or?”

             Wonwoo looks at you curiously, and you look back at him. 

 “I dunno, it’s only been a week, Mom.”

             She nods, clapping once before pushing off of the counter and leaving the kitchen. 

             It’s silent between you and Wonwoo for a few moments before he speaks up.

 “I wouldn’t be against it.”

 “Against what?” You ask, looking at him with a raised brow. 

 “You know, like, dating. I can’t imagine anyone actually putting up with you besides me, anyway.”

             You kick him again from under the table, causing him to wince out in pain before glaring at you. You smile in return though, giving him a shrug and now rubbing your foot against the bruise you probably just caused. 

 “I can’t imagine anyone would want to put up with you either,” You laugh thinking hard about your next words. “Lucky for you, I already put up with you.”

 ~

#wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #wonwoo x reader

[starlostseungmin]

— better than “i love you”, ksm.

happy birthday to the love of my life, seungmin! here’s a short drabble i made the other day. it’s supposed to be posted last month but i decided to have it on his birthday.

taglist: @lix-ables , @zoe8stay , @alyszaen , @djeniryuu , @ppiri-bahng , @sleepyleeji , @notastraykid , @skzfelixlove , @seungly , @ameliesaysshoo , @l3visbby , @ohish , @comet-falls , @mrswolfiechan , @rachabreathing , @iadorethemskz , @minluvly , @dreamingsmile , @flirtyskzbutterfly , @tangylemonade , @gwynsapphire , @annispamz , @surefornext , @seungincore , @skz1-4-3 , @hanjingin , @hyunverse , @hwaberryjuice , @felixglow , @soonyoungblr , @awkwardnesshabitat ( color blue user/s are the ones i can’t tag )

“i think it’s commonly used,” your boyfriend, seungmin uttered as his eyes focused on the movie you were watching as he played with your hair. 

“what?” you asked, looking at him while you lay on his lap. 

“saying i love you as if there are no other words to describe how you are feeling,” he answered. “i love you have a lot of deep reasons inside,” he added as you chuckled in response, sitting up next to him. 

“okay smarty pants, what’s better than i love you?” you asked hearing him sighing in response. 

“for me? or from my perspective about the movie?” he asked. 

“about how you feel,” you answered, making him smile. 

“hmm,” he paused. “i wouldn’t say i love you directly, it can be hypothetical but you always know what i mean. it may sound cringy for some but for me, they’re not.” 

“you’re practically lovesick, seungmin,” 

“no,” he defended. “what i’m trying to say is, i can’t survive a day without seeing you, i am not comfortable if we’re not talking, i don’t want us to fight and go to sleep without talking about the problem, i want to be clingy to you and only you. you always shine and stand out to me, you’re so special, even if you say you’re not perfect, but to me, you always have been. it doesn’t matter if you have flaws, i embrace them with full acceptance because it’s you. your voice feels like a lullaby when you talk. it’s the way my heart beats for you every time. i always remember the smallest details about you, the things you like, the things you don’t like, the books you read, the songs you sing in the shower, the food you always enjoy, and your favorite brands. your contagious laugh. you’re the most beautiful when you smile, you’re like sunshine when you’re happy. the way you just run up to me and hug me when you’re sad or the way you don’t mind how clingy i get when it’s just the two of us. you always hug me when i get home from work, or just when you see me. there’s a reason why you’re my home, y/n. i respect you so much that i don’t want to cross lines and say sorry when i’m wrong. saying i love you is not enough to describe how these things made me feel, 3 words were just a way to shorten a speech but making it full like this can change someone’s perspective, i know i don’t say i love you that much but i want to express it by saying other things,” 

your smile grew bigger as a tear fell on your cheek while listening to him. it was good, it was better, and you know exactly that you feel the same way as he describes everything. 

“i didn’t know you were this down bad,” you smiled but seungmin just scoffed, trying to compose his cool after letting his guard down. 

“one last thing, you always make fun of me when i get serious,” he sighs. 

“you don’t mind me anyway, but i respect you so much seungmin,” you smiled. “the movie doesn’t make sense at all to me now, even if they always say i love you. you’re better than the movies and books seungmin, you always have been,” 

seungmin smiled at you as he planted his lips on yours, “i love you,”

“i know,” you said pecking his lips, “and i love you most,” 

feedbacks and reblogs are highly appreciated.

©️ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐈𝐍 , 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑.

#neverendingdreams #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids drabbles #stray kids reactions #stray kids fluff #stray kids x reader #stray kids headcanons #skz imagines #skz fluff #skz headcanons #skz scenarios #skz x reader #skz drabbles #stray kids seungmin #skz seungmin #seungmin imagines #kim seungmin imagines #kim seungmin #seungmin #skz seungmin imagines #stray kids seungmin imagines #stray kids kim seungmin #skz kim seungmin #seungmin fluff #seungmin x reader #seungmin scenarios #stray kids

[toruro]

— ✧ red (k)nights

pairing. xu minghao x reader

description. minghao is your knight in shining armor. literally.

tags. smut (18+), so much fluff, royal au, princess!reader, knight!minghao, secret relationship (kind of?!), minghao’s finger pieces from the super mv …

outfit inspo. minhgao's armor is as shown in the pics, his robes are similar to the light brown ones worn in their inkigayo performance, & reader's robes are of similar design to their 2nd outfits in the super mv!

fic playlist.

w/c. 6.7k

a/n. i'm usually not into royal aus or any au in general that isn't modern, but i had so much fun writing this and i think my mind has changed ... so i hope u enjoy! comments/reblogs are always appreciated c:

“You’re upset,” Eunji notes, walking into your room as sunlight peeks through your silk blinds.

Grumbling, you slowly push yourself off the mattress and lean against the headboard as you rub your eyes. The soft browns and golds of your room are starting to sink into your vision as you adjust to the light, murmuring, “You didn’t knock.”

Eunji sighs, patting her hands down on her apron after setting down your black robe. “Your father doesn’t have any rules about walking in without knocking. And besides, you always lock the door if it’s necessary—if it isn’t locked, I assume it’s alright for me to walk in.”

“What about my rules?” you huff, finally slipping out of bed so Eunji can help you slip into your daytime robes.

“I don’t suppose you’re the king?” she responds as you groggily make your way up to her, your nightgown wrinkling at the ends.

“Eunji,” you whine, throwing yourself onto one of your plush lounge chairs in front of her. “I’m too tired,” you grumble when she points at the robe, again, signaling you to put it on.

“You’re upset,” she corrects, lifting the clothes and unwinding them for you as you begrudgingly stand up and slip off the dress, leaving you only in your undergarments.

“He’s still gone,” you whisper quietly, lifting your arms so Eunji can slip in the sleeves from behind you, moving in front to help tie up the flat, golden drawstrings on the front into bows.

“Away. He is away, not gone,” Eunji says with a pat on your shoulders, adjusting the edges and collar of your velvet robe.

“What’s the difference?” you mutter once she’s done.

“The difference is he will be back,” she explains simply, taking a step back to admire her work. “Now, let’s get you down for breakfast? I wouldn’t want to be caught making you late for your meal by gossiping about your—” she pauses. Eunji is among three of maybe your only friends in the entire kingdom, yet she still bites her tongue, still holds back. You used to resent her for it, but now you understand it’s only natural—after all, it is her job to take care of you, and being careful is just what she has to do. But right now, Eunji is your friend, not your maid, and what she follows with only confirms that fact—“your boy.”

Your lips break into a bright grin at the mere name—your boy. You should feel childish—Minghao is so much more than a boy. He’s a gentleman, he’s strong, he’s confident—he is so much. But after all of that, after his sword is yielded, after all his armor is stripped, Minghao is yours—your boy.

“Will you let me do your hair?” Eunji interrupts your thoughts, holding up a few hair ribbons from your large vanity across the room. You grimace, shaking your head.

“I feel like I might go bald every time you do,” you tell her. Eunji gives you a stern look and you let your shoulders sag. “Fine, but please be gentle. I’m already under so much stress, I can’t have any more pressure on my head.”

“Stress?”

You shrug, a small smirk poking at your cheeks. “Oh you know. Just my boy.”

Eunji escorts you down to the dining hall after raking all your hair into some tight updo. Wincing as you pick at the ribbons, she scurries off when you sit down to order the chefs to present you breakfast.

“Good morning, Princess,” a familiar voice greets, Mingyu placing down a steel plate littered with an array of fruits. “What would you like this morning?”

You watch Eunji who re-enters as you formulate your response. “I’m not really hungry right now, if I’m being honest…” you sigh.

“Don’t let her get away with that!” Eunji calls out from the other end of the room, and you cross your hands over your chest as she walks over. Mingyu gives you a concerned look, and Eunji continues. “She’s saving her appetite for when she plans to sneak out in the evening!” she says in a half whisper, half yell sort of voice.

Mingyu’s eyes widen when he looks down on you. “You actually snuck out that time? I thought you were just bluffing so you wouldn’t have to have breakfast with your cousins!”

“It was both,” you grumble as you roll your eyes. “I’m sorry, but they’re insufferable—the both of them! And then…” your voice trails off, “Mingyu you know your food is great and I love it but there’s this fruit stall down in the civil grounds and—”

“You snuck out for fruit?” Mingyu gasps, stepping back. Pointing at the platter in front of you, he says, “I should have you know these are harvested from the finest farm in the kingdom.” You stick your tongue out at him, glancing at Eunji who is giving you a funny look. Mingyu catches on, and his eyes narrow. “Are you keeping a secret from me? Oh my god—you know I hate being left out of things.”

“You have a big mouth,” Eunji murmurs and you laugh along in agreement.

Mingyu frowns, swiping the platter away from you as you reach for a grape. “Hey! This is no way to treat a princess,” you pout.

“Tell me what’s going on then?” he pleads, and you glance at Eunji who seems to take it upon herself to spill the beans for you. Leaning in, she motions for Mingyu to come closer so you can all lower your voices.

“She went to see her boy,” she whispers.

Once again, you can’t help but let the grin break out onto your face. Your boy.

Fuck, you really miss him.

Him, being the man who followed you many nights ago as you tried to sneak out of the castle grounds. It’d been a boring few weeks and you overheard Eunji gushing to one of the other maids about a festival that took place in the civil grounds.

You’d heard of it before, and even showed up to the festival occasionally over the years, but it was only ever for a sparring moment—to sit and look pretty, wave hellos and goodbyes before you were being dragged back to the castle.

So when you heard that Eunji was planning on using one of her few, sacred days off, you just had to know what was so exciting about it—your temptation exceeded your ability to follow the rules.

Slipping into some old brown robes you used to wear for your dance training, you wrapped a shawl over your head and over the bottom half of your face in hopes to conceal as much of your identity as possible.

You couldn’t believe you were doing this. Or, well, maybe you could. You’d fantasized about this moment for ages, never really having the drive to go through with it though. That is, not until now. Still, you’d played this chain of events too many times for anything to go wrong. You had thought about every possible chance of something going wrong, and right now you were certain that you had planned against it.

Foolproof. Your plan just had to be foolproof.

So when you snuck off that night, when the deep oranges of the sunset turned to red and soon to black, there wasn’t a doubt in your mind that things would go perfectly fine. That you’d be able to run through the gardens, through the militia grounds, and into the civil grounds, slip in and out of the festival, and back into your bed before anyone could even realize that the princess wasn’t in her bed.

Silly you for not accounting for him.

Him, being the man who was out in the militia courtyards, donned in his training robes as he read a book under the dim light of a flickering, yellow lantern. Him, being the man you thought wouldn’t recognize your figure as you scurried through the pathway and towards the exit to the civil grounds.

You were foolish, and Minghao was perceptive.

You hardly were in the crowd at the festival for more than half an hour before a strong hand tugged at your wrist. Considering yelling for help, you opened your mouth to scream, but not before a large, warm hand clasped over your mouth, trapping in any noises you made. He was gentle with the way he pulled you to a quiet place behind the wall, and even under the dim, crimson glow from the festival, you’re able to make out his face when he finally releases you.

His face was no stranger to your eyes, as his duties as a performance knight had him on and off palace grounds consistently. Xu Minghao. You remembered the name, and watching the scarlet hues fall on his skin, you were reminded of just why his face has not left your mind—why you recall him, and not any other knights.

The redness casted a sharp shadow over him, sharp jawline seeming further whetted under this new glow. Minghao’s dark and shiny hair hung perfectly to shield his gorgeous eyes from the bright lights from around you, and you find yourself growing mesmerized by the way he gazes down at you so … passionately.

Finally breaking the silence that stuffed the space between you, he spoke, “What are you doing here, Princess?” Unexpected of the concern that laces his tone, you were taken aback, mouth falling slightly agape as you wondered why he chose not to scold or reprimand you.

“I wanted to see the festival,” you finally managed to whisper, tearing your eyes away from the handsome man in front of you to look behind at the celebrations taking place all around you. Minghao studied your face for a few pensive moments before sighing and nodding.

He surprised you again with his next, quiet words, “I can show you.”

Looking up at him with bright eyes, you beamed.

Sneaking out to your “fruit stall” doesn’t work, not when Eunji is on your tail. You huff and puff when she sits you down in your room that night, but then she’s whispering into your ear about how his team will be arriving the next morning.

That night, your stomach churns with the anticipation of seeing him, touching him, holding him. It’s been too long, and all you’ve been left with for the past weeks is the ghost of his touch against yours, imagining it’s Minghao when you hug your pillow every night.

You don't get an ounce of sleep, of course, but when you wake up after dozing off to the bright, morning sky, you feel nothing but excitement bubble up in your stomach. You ask Eunji to dress you in your robe of finest silk, and she grins, feigning ignorance as to the reason behind your request.

“This would look nice, don’t you think?” you murmur, holding up a silver dangling hair pin.

Eunji walks over, inspecting the little accessory you’ve picked out. “I don’t understand why you’re putting so much thought into this…he’s seen you in much less,” she mutters and you gasp loudly, nudging her shoulder.

“Y-you said you would never bring that up!” you stutter out, placing the pin back down. The that in question being the time you had snuck Minghao into your room one night and forgot to lock your door. That morning, Eunji was met with the side of a bare chested knight and the princess rolling around together under the sheets, the first person to be introduced to your little secret.

Eunji only hums, looking over your array of jewelry. “The gold would look nicer,” she tells you, ignoring your previous exclamation. She lifts a nearly identical hair pin, except this one is coated in gold, matching the shimmering designs on your robes.

You smile and nod, turning around in response so she can put the pin in your updo. As you continue to go about your morning, there’s an extra jump to your step when you make your way to the militia office. Inside is your father’s head officer, Seungcheol, sitting at his desk as he goes through the papers.

“The demo team comes back today, right Officer?” you ask curiously, stepping in.

Cheol looks up at you, eyebrows quirked. “They came back this morning, yes,” he replies, standing up as he organizes some of the papers in a neat stack. “Excited?”

“No, why would I be?” you say, letting your shoulders deflate a little to hide your very real and very true excitement. Seungcheol gives you a cheeky smile as he adjusts his coat.

“You’re not great at lying.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you reply, crossing your arms over your chest nonchalantly as Seungcheol walks out of the room, letting you follow behind.

“Really? Your father is picking up on it too. Tell me to tell him how the demo team is doing. Asks me to let him know if there’s anyone that seems … suspicious.”

You scoff, letting your hands fall to your side, “Well he hasn’t said anything to me about it … yet at least.” You sigh, figuring that if Seungcheol already has an idea of what’s going on, there’s no point in feigning ignorance. “Was I being too obvious when I asked for a whole unit to be moved from the battle team to the demo team?”

Seungcheol laughs. “Yes. Your father is definitely—”

“Suspecting?”

“No, that’s not the right word. I think he seems more open to the idea than you might think. I was just going to say he has a feeling you and one of the demo team’s members are … are involved.”

You hum in response, skipping besides Seungcheol as you make your way to the militia courtyard. “That’s good to hear.”

“I guess. Whether your father approves so far or not, tell your boy—” Your heart flutters when Seungcheol says it like that. “—whichever one he is, to keep in line. I’m sure you wouldn’t want me to report any bad news back to the King.”

You roll your eyes but don’t respond, walking outside into the field of grass where some soldiers are lined up in neat rows in front of a black, raised platform where you and Seungcheol are supposed to stand. As you near the group of soldiers, your stomach ties up in a tight knot when you catch sight of the familiar face.

Walking timidly up to the platform next to Seungcheol, you place your hands in front of you, playing with your fingers as you struggle to break your eyes away from Minghao. He isn’t looking at you right now—he isn’t allowed to you.

With his helmet drawn by his side, sword sheathed at his back, crimson armor with gold intricacies glistening under the sun, it’s all too much for you—Minghao in his armor is a force of beauty, and one to be reckoned with.

And he’s standing so straight, so tall, his well built figure being accentuated by the sharp curves of the metal that plates his skin and you start to lose track of Seungcheol’s words. It isn’t until he nudges you in your side when you jump up and out of your reverie, only to see him looking down at you with concerned eyes.

“Princess,” he says loudly, and then much quieter, “Are you alright?”

“I—yes, sorry. It’s just the sun, it’s in my face and I lost track of things for a moment,” you lie, looking back at the knights standing in uniform in front of you.

“Do you want to head back inside? You don’t really have to be—”

“I’ll stay,” you say quickly. “What was it I needed to do?”

“Some last words for them. It’s been a long few weeks, so just say something and formally release them for this week.”

Right. That’s why you’re here. Clearing your throat, you straighten your back, causing the men to all turn their attention to you. Finally, both you and Minghao think. Finally he can look at you.

And fuck, you look so beautiful with your hair pinned back and loose ribbons strewn in, your black and gold royal robes hanging effortlessly off your body with the little bows decorating your waist. Gentle fingers clasped in front of you and Minghao can almost feel your gentle touch on him when you speak.

“Thank you for your excellent performances over the past weeks,” you begin to speak, your eyes doing their best to not linger on Minghao too long. “Your efforts are greatly appreciated, and to express my gratitude, you are relieved of your duties from now until the end of this weekend. Report to your duties the following morning as you would on any regular schedule. Thank you again.” You close with a bow, stepping back and motioning your hand out front as to signal.

“You are dismissed,” Seungcheol calls out loudly, and you see the way the soldier’s immediately drop their shoulders, their gazes averting to each others’ as they break out into loose conversation. Well, all but one. Minghao’s eyes are locked in on yours and you’re finding it impossibly hard to look away.

Looking up at Seungcheol, “Can I go now?”

“Of course. Thank you for showing up. Do you need one of us to escort you back to the castle grounds or—”

You shake your head quickly, eyes flickering to Minghao who is making conversation with one of his platoon members casually. “N-no, that won’t be necessary.”

“Are you sure? You aren’t looking too well. I think it’d be safest if you had one of them help you.”

“I—” you pause, “Okay, I’ll take him,” you say before Seungcheol can make his own decision, pointing at Minghao. Hearing your raised voice, he turns to see your finger in his direction, both you and Seungcheol looking straight at him. Seungcheol looks at you as Minghao walks over, but eventually shrugs.

“Minghao, take the princess to castle grounds,” Seungcheol instructs, throwing you a knowing look. He nods without a word, bowing to you and then his leader as the captain walks away to talk to some other soldiers, leaving just the two of you.

The air is thicker now—it’s filled with all the words you want to say, all the things you want to do, all the thoughts you’ve been thinking and fuck—you really missed him. You need to remind yourself that you’re still out in the open, still in the militia courtyard, still not alone, and you don’t even allow Minghao to do the formal, custom bow and greeting before you turn on your heel and rush away.

Your strides are long but his are longer and he keeps up with your discerningly fast pace, following you out of the courtyard, through the rows of decorated barracks, and off the militia grounds without a word. It’s only when you’re both alone in the small pathway that connects the militia grounds to the castle that you finally allow your pace to rest.

Minghao is the first to speak after glancing around to ensure that the coast is clear, “You seem to have forgotten that you’re the only one who isn’t lugging around 40 pounds worth of armor.” His voice comes out in soft pants, and it’s slightly gruff, but then he’s dropping his helmet to the ground and grabbing your face so he can smash your face into his.

His lips are chapped, moving roughly against yours hungrily, his tongue licking into your mouth as you struggle to place your hands—his armor isn’t the best for clinging onto—so you settle for placing them on his neck. Minghao’s own hands are cradling the back of your head, angling you better as his tongue delves deeper, exploring every inch of your mouth with a passion that threatens to consume you. He tastes of salt and sweat, your own lips sweet with the scent of royal gardens, and it all has you dizzy.

When Minghao breaks the kiss, you feel at a loss as you grapple for him, his skin, his touch against you. “Y-you need to get this off,” you say hastily, knocking on the steel armor that dons his body. You let your fingers trace down the hard material, finally letting them fall down to grasp one of the few exposed parts of his body left—his hands.

“Eager already?” his eyes flicker up at you and it seems to light a flame beneath you. You squeeze his fingers lightly, looking around you to make sure no one has stepped into this pathway yet.

“Whatever.” You pause. “I missed you,” you add quietly, as Minghao leans forward and adjusts the collar of your robes for you, the small gesture making your heart tender. His gaze softens, and he uses one hand to gently stroke your cheek.

“I missed you too. It was so long—I thought I was going crazy,” he confesses, and the admission has your lips pulling into a smile.

“Do you want to go to the gardens?” you ask excitedly, holding his hand up to your chest as you clutch it tightly. “The enclosed one? I’ll ask Eunji to make sure it stays private for the rest of the morning and—” Minghao’s lips pursed into a tight line causes disappointment to well up inside your belly. “What? You don’t want to?”

“No—no, of course I want to, it’s just…” his voice trails off and you look up at him dejectedly. “I need to go to the barracks. I know we have the week off but I still have things to do.”

“Oh,” you murmur, stepping back a little. Minghao frowns, squeezing your cheek lightly with the calloused pads of his fingers.

“You know I want to. I just need to unpack and get this—” he looks down at himself and clanks the metal armor, “—get this shit off and take care of some stuff with Jun.” You nod understandingly, but he notices the ways your eyes droop down just a little. Pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, he continues. “I’ll make it up to you tonight.”

Your eyes sparkle at the suggestion. “Tonight?” Minghao nods with a smile, his hand still resting by your cheek, gently stroking your jawline. “The gardens? My room? Where?”

“I actually have a different place in mind. It’s in the civil grounds. It’ll be better if you can come before sunset…” As he speaks, his fingers trail down your neck, running over your collarbone right where the two ends of your robe meet just above your chest. His touch lingers for a few moments, burning trails of fire into your skin as you struggle to keep your heartbeat steady.

“The civil grounds? We’ve never gone there before,” you murmur, voice dripping with curiosity. “At least not since … well you know.” Since the night we met.

“Trust me?” The way he looks down at you with pure adoration makes you feel like he can hear your heartbeat from your chest, shaking the earth under you.

“Before sunset, right here,” you promise.

You can’t quite hide your enthusiasm from Eunji but you also can’t quite care. Nearly jumping off the walls from excitement, it feels like an eternity before the hour strikes seven and you’re whispering to her to cover for you as you slip off the castle grounds and to the little pathway that leads to the militia grounds.

And there he is, your boy, clad in no longer his armor but brown robes which hug his built figure. There is no sword drawn in his back nor is there a helmet clinging by his side, and you grin when you approach him with a smile, wrapping your arms around his torso.

Patting your back gently, Mingao places a soft kiss on your forehead, giving you a warning look as your eyes ask for more. “Not now … not here,” he clarifies, running his hand over your head once, admiring the updo it’s in as he slots his other hand into yours. “Don’t you want to see where I’m taking you?”

You grip his hand tighter and nod as he pulls out a brown fabric from the crevice in his robe. “What’s this for?” you ask as he drapes it over your head gingerly, finally tying the loose ends under your chin.

“Just so you don’t get noticed. We are going to the civil grounds, after all,” Mingaho explains, patting your cheek lightly once he’s done and pulling you to follow after him as he leads the way. You’re both quiet as he leads you carefully through the paths of the militia grounds, finally sneaking you out through a side gate.

Minghao quietly pulls you through the winding streets of the civil grounds where the atmosphere is bustling, with vibrant colors, loud voices, and an endless amount of people flooding the pathways. It’s new, of course, but with the sun hanging low above you, Minghao’s warm hand encased around yours, and the promise of a good night in your mind, you feel oddly comforted.

You’re led through the crowds, Minghao holding you close to his side until he stops at the base of one, tall building, leading you through an alleyway and to the back where there’s a narrow staircase leading to the roof. With a hand on your back, he guides you up the stairs, still keeping close as he follows carefully behind you.

“This is Jun’s family’s old shop,” he explains as the distant sounds of laughter and music grow fainter. “They’ve moved buildings now, but me and Jun come here sometimes with friends because this one is really tall and … and well you’ll see,” he murmurs as you finally reach the top.

He pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist as you both walk onto the rooftop which is lined with a fence style barrier. The ground is covered in old rugs and there are some sacks and boxes strewn around. Walking over to the edge with Minghao, you gasp softly at the sight around you. The civil ground sprawls beneath you, and as you look up, you can see the castle against the blooming oranges and reds of the sky—it’s beautiful.

“This is … wow … this is really pretty, Hao,” you say, and his hold on you tightens for a second before letting go so he can turn around. He walks over to one of the boxes, rummaging through its contents before pulling out a few linen sheets and a lantern, setting it down on the rugs.

“Come, sit,” he instructs as he lays out the sheets, placing the light on top. You follow, smoothing your robes before sitting next to him and leaning into his shoulder so he can wrap an arm around you. Looking up, you watch the sky turn into a hue of orange so deep and vibrant that it’s nearly red.

“You really can’t get a view like this from the castle,” you say with a sigh as Minghao uses one hand to light up the lantern.

He hums in response, pressing a kiss to the temple of your head. “Yeah, I know. I’ve been meaning to bring you here for a while.” You turn to look up at him with a big grin, finally pressing a soft kiss to his lips. It’s short and sweet, and although you really are aching for more, you suppose you’ll settle for this right now. After all, you do have all night.

“This is beautiful,” Minghao tells you when you pull away, fingers brushing over the golden hairpin you stuck into your updo early in the morning.

“Eunji picked it out for me…”

He smiles at you gently, hands disappearing into the folds of his robe. “I love it. I actually wanted to show you something,” he says, pulling out a small object clasped in his hands.

Opening it up in front of you, on his palm sits a shiny, finger shaped accessory, gleaming with a hue that perfectly matches your hairpin. It vaguely resembles the figure of Minghao’s own fingers, and you run your fingers over the cool metal, tracing over the delicate patterns carved in.

“What’s this?”

“A prize. The kingdom was holding a competition for the different demonstration units, and as the leader of the unit that won, I was made this,” he explains, rubbing his own fingers over the accessory. Wordlessly, he slips it onto his middle finger and holds it up in front of you to see it more closely. As your vision zones in on the golden piece, you notice a shift in Minghao's eyes—a darkening intensity.

“Hao,” you whisper quietly, and then he’s bringing the decorated finger up to your face and pressing the cool metal against your lips. Gasping, you lean forward instinctively, your mouth wrapping around the piece instinctively. His hand in your mouth, you can smell him, although the taste of iron against your tongue is unfamiliar. New, but not unpleasant.

“You have no idea,” Minghao begins to say, pressing his fingers down on your tongue firmly, “how long I’ve been thinking about this.” You can’t respond, not with the way your mouth is stuffed, but you honestly don’t need to. The way your tongue swirls over his digits and teeths at the accessory is enough to tell Minghao that you’ve been aching for this just as long as he has. “Do you want to…try something?” he asks tentatively, slipping his slick fingers out carefully.

You don’t need to think about your answer, not with Minghao. You’d trust him no matter what, follow him anywhere, let him do anything to you. Your fingers toy with the ribbons of your robes as you nod eagerly, and he helps you untie them from your side. The cloth hangs loose from your shoulders now, the gap at your chest spreading now and leaving you bare.

The golden piece is still on his fingers, and as he trails his hands down the curve of your tits, pressing against your stomach and dipping in between your legs, Minghao watches your face contort into pleasure. The cool metal pressing against your warm cunt has your soft breaths turning into harsh pants as you grab his firm bicep, legs spreading instinctively.

Quickly, you glance around you, but Minghao quells your worries when he presses his lips against your neck and murmurs, “Don’t worry angel, we’re too high up for anyone to see.” His fingers are gliding between your folds as he sucks against your neck, and you know he wants to be sweet with you, wants to take his time, wants to be the patient gentleman he is, but it’s been far too long.

“Minghao,” you moan when his thumb brushes against your clit. “Wanna feel you,” your murmur, nudging his face in the crook of your neck with your own. He chuckles into your skin, licking a hot stripe over your skin before nodding. It hardly takes him a second before he’s circling your slick hole and pressing in.

The hard accessory is a new feeling—this isn’t the same as the familiar pads of Minghao’s long fingers rubbing against your plush walls, but you can’t say you don’t like it. Whining into his mouth as he kisses you, your hands roam Minghao’s body, tugging at the ropes of his robe around his torso.

As you aimlessly try to shuffle his robe off of him, Minghao starts to plunge his fingers in and out. Shrugging his robe off his shoulders, you’re finally able to press your palms against his hard chest, breaking away from the kiss so you can admire him. “You like it?” he asks amusedly as your mouth hangs wide open when he presses his fingers in extra deep with one thrust. Your head lolls back heavily, the finger piece adding an extra layer of thickness that you aren’t used to.

“Feels s’good,” you say softly, the moans getting caught in your throat when he speeds up his movements. “Love your fingers …” You take a deep breath before continuing. “Love y—you!” you whimper unexpectedly when you feel your orgasm creep up on you unexpectedly quickly.

“Are you gonna cum, princess?” Something about the way Minghao calls you princess is different from others. Maybe it’s the way he isn’t calling you that because you are the princess, but because you are his princess. His sweet girl, falling apart at the palm of his hand as he rubs your sensitive nub and continues to finger fuck you until you moan his name. His name falls from your lips like honey, sweet and thick as he kisses you passionately and doesn’t stop working you through your orgasm until you’re squirming in his hold and pawing at his pants.

Slipping out his fingers, Minghao holds the shiny accessory up, and it seems to shimmer even more now, coated in your wetness and reflecting the pretty red tint of the sky. Gently pulling the piece off his finger, he sets it to the side. “How was it?”

You smile hazily, still recovering from your much awaited orgasm. “I loved it … felt different but I loved it,” you tell him honestly, shuffling over on his lap as your robe falls completely off your body, leaving you in nothing but panties. Minghao’s breath hitches at the sight, and you grin as your fingers make their way to the firm waistband of his brown pants.

He’s quick to catch on, enveloping your lips in a kiss as he pulls his pants and boxers off in one go, hard cock springing free and hitting your thigh lightly. You feel the warm precum leak against your skin as you shift closer, your stomach pressing against his now that you’re both completely bare and more desperate than ever.

Minghao's arms wrap around your torso, one hand going down to line his thick tip up with your folds, letting himself get coated in your wetness. "You ready, angel?" he asks when your mouths break apart from each other, his pretty lips red and swollen. Your eyebrows pinch together when you feel his cock prodding at your entrance and you nod vigorously. “Words, princess, use your words.”

“Yes, Hao, ‘m ready,” you moan when you feel him press against you, letting your head fall to his shoulder. “So ready, so, so ready,” you continue, not being able to control yourself when you press your own hips down. Minghao gasps at the feeling of you sinking on him, warm walls hugging his cock and fuck, he realizes how much he missed you.

Realizes just how much his fist falls short of your perfect pussy—long nights of being without you so he to resort to jerking himself off to the thought of you but none of that compared to the feeling of you whining his name on top of him, hands clutching at his arms as you try to adjust to his size.

You’re also having your own moment of epiphany now too—realization that your fingers were not enough, and will never be enough. At least, not after you’ve felt Hao’s cock inside of you—one thrust in and he’s already hitting all the right spots and having you writhe on top of him.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Minghao groans when your ass settles fully on his lap, his cock pressed into you, balls deep, as your fingers lace into his hair and grab at his soft locks.

“Oh—oh m-my god, Hao,” you whimper when he shifts inside of you. The pain that once came from his size is now morphing into a white, hot pleasure that ripples through your spine as you lift your hips up halfway before letting them fall back down. “So—s’big,” you gasp out when his fat tip nudges against your cervix.

Minghao feels his cock twitch inside of you at your words, using his hands to guide your body so you can move and bounce on top of him with less effort. Your cunt is so tight around him and his eyes press shut tightly when he hears you call out his name. “Doin’ so good for me princess,” he praises when you roll your hips against his.

Both of your movements aren’t fast nor extravagant but it’s the way he’s so close to you, skin melting into one other as you share your breath and exchange moans. Bodies moving in sync as you drink in the velvety moans, your nose nuzzles into his when your thighs start to cramp up. “Hao …” you call out as his cock punches the air out of your lungs. “…’m tired,” you mewl, your hips stuttering into his.

His hand cradles your neck as you both still, murmuring, “I got you angel.” Swiftly, Minghao flips you over so your back is pressed against the sheets and he’s on top of you, arms on either side of your head to hold himself up. One hand comes up to hold your cheek as he starts to move again, taking control of the thrusts now.

Stroking your cheekbone with his thumb, he ruts his hips into yours, cock and pussy jamming together in a sloppy mess as you feel that knot in your tummy start to tie up again. “Missed you s’much,” you confess as heat flourishes through your body.

“Missed you too angel,” Minghao returns almost immediately, letting the snap of his hips become more sharp and forceful, your body jerking back and forth with each movement. Your eyes flicker between Hao’s pretty face, coated in a sheen layer of sweat, and the night sky that begins to loom into a dark purple, revealing the stars. “Gonna have to fuck you every single night now that I’m back,” he grunts when you squeeze around him extra tight, letting himself drop down onto his elbows.

You shudder at the idea of having Hao’s cock inside of you every night, and you aren’t sure if your pussy can handle the pleasure. “I’ll—fuck—” you gasp between the words, “—I’ll sneak you in e-every night.”

“Yeah? Eunji’s not gonna get mad when she sees your door locked every morning?” he chuckles, bringing a hand down to rub at your clit.

“Don’t care,” you mutter, biting down on your lip as your feel the knot being pulled and tugged inside you. “Fuck—Hao, ‘m so close, so, so close … Are you close?” you ask dazedly, lips puffy and eyes wide as you look up at him. And looks so sexy with the way his brown eyes watch you intently, his muscles flexing with every movement and Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he tries to hold off his own orgasm.

“Yeah, ‘m close angel, your pussy so good,” he slurs as he meets your lips for a tongue tying kiss. And slowly and carefully, you both start to unwind, your orgasm hitting you first from the overstimulation of your first that never quite ebbed away, Minghao’s following suit as you let out whimpers moans of his name into his mouth, cock twitching before filling you to the brim with his thick ropes of cum.

Your ears ring of white noise for the next few moments as thrash against Minghao, your bodies melting into one until he finally breaks away from your lips, leaving you both as a tangled mess of limbs. You’re breathing heavily into each other and you can’t quite comprehend what’s going on until he whispers your name into your ear, eyes shooting back to life.

“I love you,” he murmurs, kissing your earlobe before lifting his head so he can look at you intently.

“I love you,” you say, without a second of hesitation. He’s still inside of you, and now you’re hyper-aware of the growing mess that sits between your legs. Minghao kisses your nose as you look down when he finally slips out of you, a small noise of complaint leaving your lips. Inhaling deeply, you sit up. “You’re going to live up to that promise, you know,” you say shyly when he looks at you, sitting up as well to grab his robe. “You know … every single night.”

Minghao grins. “Of course I will.”

“Can I hold you to that?” you ask slyly, intertwining your fingers with his.

Minghao rolls his eyes, palm pressing against yours. “Guess we’ll just have to try ‘n’ find out.”

#minghao #minghao smut #minghao imagines #xu minghao #minghao x reader #minghao drabbles #xu minghao x reader #xu minghao smut #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt smut #svt reactions #seventeen smut #the8 x reader #the8 smut #📝 writing

[natti-ice]

Being Remus Lupin’s Best friend Headcanons.

Warnings: modern AU!

Author’s note: this is a reupload, I wrote this a while ago!

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated<3

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Makes sure you’re not behind on any work. If you are he’ll help you with whatever it is. He jokingly acts like he hates it but he loves helping you.

Shared wardrobe. He knows everything he owns will somehow get in your possession. He even buys sweaters in your favorite colors just for that reason.

Man is a sucker for romantic dramas. He’d rather watch every sappy movie on Netflix than some action movie. (He loves a walk to remember)

Makes plans to take you out for your birthday every year. Will do anything you want, he’d jump out of a plane if you wanted to.

Random hugs. No reason behind them, just hugs

A bad driver. Took 2 tries to get his license but he did it. Makes you drive, then complains about your driving. (He’s an over dramatic mother)

The most funny sarcastic person you’ve ever met. He doesn’t even try to make a joke but it’s always hilarious.

Askes you about your day, he’s a great listener

He has a small rock collection. He only told you about it.

Texts in all lowercase. “😐” is his favorite emoji

Calls > text

One of his shoes always has a different color lace. Shoes are always beat up, but he likes it that way

His guilty pleasure is country music, but only sang by women.

No social media presence, but always has good memes on hand

Activist

Favorite place to hang out is the local park. There’s never anyone there just you two. He likes the sound when wind blows through the trees

Random compliments about the most random things. (Like handwriting or a random pin on your backpack)

Secretly in love with an actor from the 50’s who is most likely dead.

Has a job at some lowkey coffee shop barely anyone knows about, loves when you come in

Brings you your favorite drink/snack every time he comes to see you

He watched Doctor Strange because Benedict Cumberbatch is hot

One of those people who points out someone you don’t like and says “there’s your best friend”

Had a Minecraft phase when he was 11

Fake arguments over small things.

Mocks you when you annoy him, which is a lot

Your parents love him, they always ask him to come on family vacations with you guys

Hates those fake prank couple videos on YouTube

Had you pierce his ears because he thought he’d look edgy, But took them out because he felt like a douchbag

My chemical romance >>

You two stroll around the neighborhood at 3am

Tells you everything, sometimes a little bit too much. He knows you won’t judge him

You’re his favorite person, obviously.

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Tags: @thebiggestnaturaldisaster @madwcman @de-duchess @timbradfordisbae

Join a tag list!

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x gn!reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin headcanon #remus lupin #marauders x reader #marauders fluff #marauders headcanon

[ladykailitha]

Can Anybody See Me? Part 3

Holy hell, guys. Seriously, I love you all. And just seeing the sheer amount of LOVE this story is getting makes me so happy.

Tag list of 50 has now been filled. Any other requests for tagging will be denied. I’m sorry.

Edit: Also if you saw the title as something else? No, no you didn’t. And any reblogs you see with anyone instead of anybody are a figment of your imagination. (*thuds head on laptop* I have the title right on here...in my file *wails*)

Part 1 Part 2

*

Eddie was wrong. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. On the one hand, he was wrong and that was uncomfortable. On the other it meant that whatever was going on with Steve he didn’t care about his reputation anymore and that was always a good thing.

He had walked out of the school doors to the parking lot after school to see a Steve Harrington leaning against his van, just like yesterday.

“Harrington,” Eddie said, “this is a surprise.”

Steve ducked his head. “If you don’t want me to be here, I can leave.”

Eddie held up his hands. “Whoa, whoa there. I didn’t say that. I’m just surprised you took me up on the offer is all. Last time I checked your lot doesn’t throw in with mine.”

Steve’s shoulders sagged. “It does now. Now that I don’t have anyone else.”

Eddie’s eyes widened and he cocked his head. “I thought you and Nancy Wheeler were hot and heavy.”

The very idea of the two of them made him gag. Hetros. Freaking insane, man.

“We broke up on Halloween,” Steve murmured.

Eddie blinked. He had been at that party. To sell, of course, he hadn’t been invited. Had even seen Wheeler storm off, but he really hadn’t thought much about it.

“What bridges haven’t you burned?” he asked in all seriousness.

“My kids,” Steve said. “I’d do anything for them.”

“Okay, that’s going to have to take some explanation,” Eddie said, shoving his hands in his back pockets.

Steve looked around the van and gulped. “Can we take this somewhere else?”

Eddie looked over and saw Nancy and some other guy being all cutesy. “Yeah. Come on, hop in. I’ll bring back later to pick up your car when the lot’s no longer crawling with people who want to do you in.”

Steve sighed in relief, his body fulling relaxing for the first time since Eddie started this journey. He moved around to the other side of the van and got in once Eddie unlocked the door.

“Where to, my liege?” Eddie asked with a grin.

“Is the quarry okay?” Steve asked shyly.

Eddie’s grin softened to a smile. “Sure thing, pretty boy.” He started the van and pulled out on to the open road, leaving behind the messy turmoil that was high school.

They made it out to quarry and Eddie climbed up on the top of his van. Steve looked up at him in amazement.

“Uh, how am I supposed to get up there?” Steve asked.

Eddie leaned over the side and held out his hand. “Grab hold.”

Steve looked at it a moment and then back up at Eddie. He looked into those doe brown eyes and sighed. He planted one foot against the side of the van and then took Eddie’s hand.

And was promptly vaulted to the top of the van.

“Holy shit!” Steve said once he was settled next to Eddie. “You’re strong.”

Eddie laughed. “It comes from all the lugging equipment around for my band. And helping out with stage crew.”

“Wow, you have a band?” Steve asked.

Eddie nodded. “Corroded Coffin. It’s a metal band, we play at the Hideout every week.”

Steve bit his lip. “I don’t know much about metal. I tend to go for alt rock bands like Oingo Boingo, Depeche Mode, REM, Tears for Fears...I bet that was a load of gibberish for you.”

Eddie shook his head. “I’m familiar with a couple of them,” he admitted. “Not my thing. But I would have pegged you for a pop vibe.”

Steve scoffed. “I have some taste, man.”

Eddie laughed. “I’d beg to differ, but sure. You do you, dude.”

Steve bumped Eddie’s shoulder. “Go on, then. Impress me with your metal bands, since mine are such shit.”

“My favorite is Metalica,” Eddie said, bumping Steve back. “But I like Mercyful Fate, Dio, Poison.”

Steve wrinkled his nose. “And I thought my bands had weird names.”

“What the hell is a Depeche Mode anyway?” Eddie fired back.

“What is a Metalica?” Steve replied.

Eddie opened his mouth, but no sound came out. “All right, you got me there.”

“I was talking to Mrs Hall today about my schedule,” Steve said, drawing his knees up to his chest and resting his chin on them. “I have to drop basketball and baseball. It’s too late to drop swimming, but I talked to Coach Burton and he said I should be cleared for competition I just have to see the swimming board’s doctor for final confirmation.”

“So suddenly you have two classes opened up?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah, my last two,” Steve mumbled into his knees. He lifted his head with a sigh. “She won’t let me just drop them and not pick up new classes even though the semester half way through.”

“So you thought about what to fill those slots with?”

“She gave me a list of options,” Steve grumbled and dug the paper out of his pocket. He handed it to Eddie.

Eddie looked over the options. “Debate, would double as extra English credit...” he mumbled reading what Mrs Hall had wrote. “Can’t see you doing that one, if I’m honest.”

Steve shook his head. “Me either. I know it’s not just arguing. But I know they can get heated. I don’t need complete strangers yelling at me when I get that enough at home.”

Eddie nodded. “Choir. Can you sing?”

Steve blushed. “Yeah, actually. But I’ve never wanted to join the choir.”

Eddie frowned. “Why not?”

Steve cleared his throat and looked away. “My vocal coach said that I don’t blend well and am very loud.”

Eddie bumped into Steve’s shoulder. “Soloist only, then?”

Steve nodded.

“Sounds like you’d be great at metal singing,” he continued. “Very loud and very in your face.”

Steve laughed. “Whatever you say, man. But no, choir is out.”

Eddie looked back at the list. “Machine work?”

Steve shook his head. “My dad would kill me.”

“Too blue collar for your dad?” he asked. Steve nodded. “I gotcha.”

“Stage crew,” Eddie continued.

Steve sighed. “I thought about that one, but like with the machine work it’s too ‘blue collar’ for my dad. Plus with my concussion, I’m pretty sure either option would be out.”

Eddie cocked his head and clicked his tongue. “Fair enough.” He looked over the list. “Pottery?”

Steve laughed. “Sure, why not? That’s one.”

Eddie nodded. He mentally crossed out all the classes that were seventh period, focusing only on the class that were eighth.

“Hmm...” he murmured pursing his lips. “Looks like what you’ve got left is geology and drama.”

Steve reared his head back. “What the hell is geology?”

Eddie shook his head. “I have no idea, but it’s obviously a science-y thing.”

Steve let out a bitter laugh. “I guess it’s pottery and drama.” He buried his face in his knees again. “I know my reputation is already in tatters but fuck those kids in those classes are going to tear me to pieces.”

Eddie blinked. The mystery that was Steve Harrington was like following a rabbit down a hole, and coming up to Wonderland. “You’re more concerned that they’re going to make fun of you then you are of your old friends making fun of you?”

Steve lifted his head. “Well sure. I know Tommy and them are going to make fun of me even if I stayed on both teams. That’s a given. They’ve got King Billy to follow now and they’re gonna get vicious with it. But no, the real problem comes from the art geeks coming for me because I have invaded their space.”

Eddie almost brought up the drawing class Steve was already in, but wisely kept his mouth shut. He shrugged. “So tell them truth. Tell them you had course correct because of a concussion. Be honest and defer to them in all things.”

“I’m also going to be the only senior in those classes, man,” Steve groused.

Eddie cocked his head. “Yeah, probably. But what else have you got?”

Steve’s shoulders slumped. “Nothing.”

They lapsed into silence. Just sitting there for awhile looking out over the quarry.

After some time, Eddie bumped Steve’s shoulder again. “So you want to tell me about ‘your kids’?”

Steve frowned.

“Burned bridges, people who haven’t given up on Steve Harrington?” Eddie prompted.

Steve lit up. “Oh yeah. Sorry, man, it’s just the...” he pointed to his face. Eddie nodded. “I still don’t know how I got roped into dealing with these assholes, but yeah. There are six of them now. Started with Dustin Henderson. Smart kid, smarter than most adults I know. Then it expanded to his friends, which includes the little brothers of my ex and her new boyfriend, Jonathan Byers, and of course Lucas Sinclair. And then I picked up El or Jane. I’m not sure which one she prefers, most people call her El though. And then there’s Max.”

“Five boys and a girl?” Eddie asked, his face twisting awkwardly. “Congrats?”

Steve laughed. “Max is short for Maxine. But don’t you dare call her that.”

Eddie blinked. “Max Mayfield? As in Billy Hargrove’s step-sister?”

Steve tilted his head back. “Yeah...but I don’t think I could separate her from the group now if I tried. And besides, she’d kick my ass.”

“You are an enigma wrapped in a mystery, man,” Eddie said.

Steve looked over at him. “You don’t know the half of it.”

Part 4 Part 5 Part 6  Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13  Part 14  Part 15  Part 16  Part 17 Part 18  Part 19  Part 20  Part 21

Tag List: @evix-syne666 @renaissan-vvitch @deadlydodos @scarletzgo @messrs-weasley @kodaik97 @thedragonsaunt @butterflysandpeppermint @gregre369 @nelotegreitic @sundead @artiststarme @fandemonium-takes-its-toll @thing-a-ling @anaibis @garden-of-gay @matchingbatbites @spectrum-spectre @winterbuckwild @steve-the-hairrington @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @babyblender @cursedfoxteeth @novelnovella @throwbackthrowaway @strangersteddierthings @shrimply-a-menace @emly03

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #canon divergence #the boy with the bat #ladykailtiha writes

[monstersandmaw]

The impact of reblogging...

Just in case you’re new, or don’t really understand how this entire site functions (and it’s completely different from other social media apps, at least for now*), or if you wanted an illustration of why it’s so important to reblog the posts you enjoy and the hard work of creators you want to support, here’s a visualisation of the impact and reach of reblogging, using my biggest post (part one of my writing masterlist).

Creators are losing the will to post and share in droves because engagement is becoming next to non-existent, and if you don’t reblog the things you enjoy for free, creators wonder why they even bother, and soon they’ll just... stop.

(Look at that reblog to like ratio too... oof)

My little blog is at the centre of that dense circle, and every point in the image represents a reblog.

Of the people who reblogged the original post, most of them did so directly from me, but you can see scattered groups of reblogs which came from people who reblogged it from those who did so from me. And so on and so on, out into the ecosystem.

If you came across my masterlist in the wild, and didn’t or don’t follow me, you only saw it because someone reblogged it.

Most of the things you see on your dash are only there because someone you follow reblogged it.

It’s how this whole ecosystem works, and you’re smothering and killing it if you don’t reblog the ‘content’ you ‘consume’ (I dislike using those terms, but it is what it is).

To clarify, no one is saying you should feel obliged to reblog everything you come across, or that everything an artist or creator puts out there ‘deserves’ to be reblogged, but for pity’s sake, reblog the things you do actively enjoy.

Leaving a like or a comment on the post is like giving a compliment directly to the creator, and it’s wonderful, but it doesn’t show that post to anyone else or boost its presence on the platform. It can also give the impression you didn’t like it ‘enough’ or it wasn’t ‘good enough’ to bother putting on your blog or reblogging. How you really show your appreciation for something you genuinely enjoyed is by reblogging. (Even better if you screech away in the tags about why you liked it, but that’s an optional extra!) It’s like giving a meaningful and impactful tip, except it’s completely free, and it only costs you the time it takes to click or tap.

I hope that clears things up, and is a useful illustration of the impact you’ve had on creators’ pages by reblogging their work, so a huge thank you to those who represent points on that chart, and those of other creators on here! It’s because of people like you that work of people like me gets seen and enjoyed by more people!!

*(I know Tumblr is trying to change things so that you see other things now, instead of only the people you follow, but you can and should turn that feature off).

#tumblr #how to use tumblr #how tumblr works #reblogging #support artists #support creators #non monster post

[fairy-writes]

first, congratulations on 1300!! with the event can i have a medium cappuccino with chuuya from bsd? thank you in advance and congratulations again!!

HAZE OF SICKNESS

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Prompt: Hurt/comfort scenario with Chuuya from BSD

Word Count: 0.7k

Fandom(s): Bungou Stray Dogs

Pairing(s): Nakahara Chuuya x Reader

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Gender Neutral!Reader, Sick!Reader, Business AU?? Idk; it’s not the normal BSD universe.

Notes: Idk if this really counts as hurt/comfort? But it’s the idea I'm going with, so it’s what you get, lol.

This also briefly features a character from Stormbringer! But you don’t need to know anything other than he’s a doctor :)

__________________________________________________________________________

The world was in a haze. 

You ache. You’re exhausted. Your stomach hurts. Your head hurts. Your mouth feels fuzzy with the lack of brushing your teeth after throwing up.

But you don’t say a word. You don’t call in. Instead, you get up, put on a mask, brush your teeth, and head to work as the infamous Nakahara Chuuya’s secretary. 

Luckily, he doesn’t comment on your mask when you arrive at your desk.

He sweeps into his office as he always does, his coat billowing around his ankles. He sheds it and his hat on the coat rack. He brushes past you without so much as a hello, and his office door shuts with a bang that has your brain vibrating in your head. 

Guess he wasn’t in the mood to talk today?

Work goes slowly. Almost agonizingly so. 

You remind yourself to alternate taking Ibuprofen and Tylenol every four hours and keep your mask on except for drinking water. But it does little good. You still feel feverish and achy, and your stomach is constantly churning despite having walked down to the corner store and bought yourself a can of soup to eat for your lunch break. 

Things come to a head when you knock on Chuuya’s office door with some reports from last week. 

“Come in.” His voice is muffled, but you hear it even through the door and what feels like cotton in your ears. The hinges squeal and grate on your nerves and eardrums. 

“I have those reports you wanted, sir.” You say through your mask, and he looks up from his laptop, sticking a hand out for them as he runs a hand through his hair. 

He looks annoyed. 

You give him the reports and go to leave when he stops you by saying your name. You turn.

“Are you alright?” He asks, and you blink. When did he ever ask if you were alright? You were positive he barely even knew your name.

“I’m fine, sir. Just a little cold, is all.” You say, and his frown deepens, but he doesn’t get up from his desk. 

“If you say so.” He mutters, and you take that as your cue to leave. 

But you promptly pass out the moment you turn around. 

When you come to, you have no idea how much time has passed. But you hear something… Just on the edge of your hearing… 

“—n you hear me?” A voice… A familiar voice… Your boss, maybe? 

When you open your eyes, you find you were correct. He’s leaning over you with a concerned look on his face, and you realize you’re on the couch in his office. 

“What happened?” You groan, and he sits back, clearly relieved. 

“I thought you died there for a minute,” He grumbled, and you felt white-hot embarrassment shoot up your spine and warm your ears. When you go to sit up, he is on his feet helping you.

“I passed out?” You ask, and he nods, 

“You went down pretty quickly and smacked your head, so I called Doc. He should be here soon.” At that, you swing your legs over the side of the couch. 

“I’m fine. Just a bit dizzy, is all. I have to get back to work.” 

His hand clamps around your wrist, and you freeze. He wears his standard leather gloves, but his hand is still warm through the material. 

“You aren’t goin’ anywhere. And it’s either Doc or the hospital.” He warns, and you glare stubbornly at the floor before relenting and sitting back down on the couch. Chuuya is sitting on the coffee table directly in front of you, hands clasped and resting on his knees. 

Doc, as eccentric as ever, gives you a clean bill of health and a cold compress for the bump on your head. He also says something to your boss that you don’t quite catch, but he nods and dismisses the man. 

“You’re taking the rest of today and tomorrow off.” He says abruptly, and you nearly trip where you are walking back to your desk. 

“What? No! I can’t afford to do that!” You retort, and he rolls his eyes,

“You’ll still be paid.” You pause in your argument and frown. 

“I will?” Chuuya huffs and puts a hand on the small of your back, steering you toward the elevator of the high-rise office building. 

“Of course you will. Just…” He pauses, and you look at him. His cheeks are flushed pink, and he refuses to look at you.

“Yes?” You prompt, and he sighs, still averting his gaze. 

“Come back feeling better.” He says, and you grin at him as the elevator door closes on you.

“Yessir!”

#chuuya x y/n #chuuya x you #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya nakahara x you #nakahara chuuya x reader #bsd chuuya x reader #bsd chuuya #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs

[neteyamsoare]

Sweet Deal.

༉‧₊˚. Featuring. Human! Ao’nung x Fem! Human! Reader.

༉‧₊˚. Request From [@inlovewithpandora]. Ao’nung found yet another scary movie to watch and he knows reader doesn’t like scary movies but he picks them because he loves when she gets scared and gets all over him — reader "where do you find these things?!" After she sees the movie he selects — Aonung "burying your face in my neck kind of defeats the purpose of having the movie on, don't you think?" When the first scary part comes — Ao’nung "you get to curl up in my lap, and I get to watch a cinematic masterpiece in peace and quiet. I think this is a pretty sweet deal." When reader just gets so scared she climbs onto his lap and lays into his embrace. From Fluff - Movie prompts.

༉‧₊˚. Summary. Ao’nung chooses a horror movie for movie night knowing you don’t like them but he chooses it because he gets something out of it.

༉‧₊˚. General Tags. Modern Au and Fluff.

༉‧₊˚. Content Warnings. Aged up! Ao'nung.

༉‧₊˚. Word Count. 626.

༉‧₊˚. Notes. Thank you for sending this prompt in boo. I loved writing this. I hope I met your expectations on this!! 🥰 It's been a while since I dropped an Ao'nung fic, missed him. Need to work on putting out more fics for him!! ☺️

༉‧₊˚. Extra. Comments, likes, and reblogs are highly appreciated but not pressured. 🤍

༉‧₊˚. Starred Links. Navigation + Masterlist + Prompts + Taglist

You fix yourself up one last time before going downstairs to the living room where Ao'nung is picking the movie you two were going to watch for movie night which you did every week. It was his turn to pick the movie and you hoped the movie he picked was good. 

“Have you found a movie for us to watch yet? If not I can pick out a movie,” you say as you enter the living room and look at where Ao’nung is sitting on the couch manspreading. “Yes, I found a good one,” he smirks as he points to the tv, you turn your head to look at the selection and you let out a sigh after reading the bold letter words, Uncaged: 47 Meters Down.

“Where do you find these things?!” you groan as you look at him. “Lo’ak told me about it, he watched it with my sister and said it was good,”  he sends you a warm smile as you walk over and plop down next to him. 

‘Babe, you know how much I hate horror movies,” Ao’nung knew that and would never forget that detail about you but the reason he picked the movie is he got something out of when you would watch scary movies, you end up being all over him and how can he hate that? What’s a little scary if he gets to comfort you as you straddle his waist? “C’mon babe, it’s not that scary.”

You looked at the screen again, looking at the picture of a shark, a person swimming away, and blood, and looked back at him blinking twice. “It literally has sharks in it, how would it not be scary?” You questioned starting to wonder why he was smirking so much. “We don’t have to watch it if you don’t want to,” he speaks calmly as he kisses your forehead. 

You pout a bit and then let out a breath, “Fine, I’ll watch it with you,” You turn to look at the TV as Ao’nung smiles and clicks play. The beginning started off pretty good, nothing scary happened yet but you were on guard for anything to happen, you never knew how Ao’nung can watch horror movies without getting scared, one scary thing pops up and you’re already pissing your pants. 

Your luck runs out after the first scary scene pops up you let out a scream, immediately getting closer to Ao’nung and burying your face into his neck taking in the cologne that you loved so much.

“Burying your face in my neck kind of defeats the purpose of having the movie on, don't you think?" He snickered as he slid his arm around your waist pulling you closer to him. 

The two of you continued to watch the movie, a few scares there but nothing too big, although it was suspicious nothing big was happening yet and your heart started beating fast as anticipation grew higher inside of you.

You try to calm yourself down as you still have an hour and some change to get through.

Just when you thought you could finally relax, another scary moment happened and it was so scary that you screamed and immediately climbed onto Ao’nung’s lap, straddling him as you lay your head on his shoulder.

“This is not fair, you did this on purpose…” You softly mumbled making Ao’nung laugh feeling the vibrations. 

"You get to curl up in my lap, and I get to watch a cinematic masterpiece in peace and quiet. I think this is a pretty sweet deal." Ao’nung smirked as he felt you tighten your hold on him.

“You’re banned from picking another movie.” You state with a serious tone but you were half joking. ‘Now that is not fair.”

🔖 @neteyamyawne, @zanabelle99, @moonchildxoxx, @jakescumdump, @neteyamsblog, @btsiguess-kpop, @sweetdayme4427, @utsukushisa0, @ronalsskimwing, @angelsamor, @shit-i-say-shit-i-think, @23victoria, @anonymousailurophile, @leelumenaura, @tsireqas, @kittenw, @aonungmyaddiction, @valentinqee, @glimmering-darling-dolly, @ducks118, @lilmackiee, @mooniequeen, @kasai-https, @ratchetprime211, @neo-novaa, @samistars, @minniere, @sassypain, @toosxie, @so-this-is-a-thing-noww, @doireallyhavetonamthis, @merlinbtch.

© neteyamsoare 2023. | All rights reserved. Do not repost, reupload, translate, modify, or claim my work as your own.

#ಣ : sylaphone #ao'nung x reader #ao'nung x y/n #ao'nung x you #ao'nung x fem!reader #ao'nung x human reader #aonung x y/n #aonung x reader #aonung x you #aonung x female reader #aonung x human reader #atwow x reader #atwow x you #atwow x y/n #aonung drabble #ao'nung drabble #atwow fanfiction #atwow fics #atwow drabble #atwow modern au

[pedroshotwifey]

To the Flame Chapter 4

Series masterlist

Pairing: Dark!Javier Peña x afab!reader

Word count: 2.3k

Chapter tags/warnings: angst, family arguments, mentions of sex, some fluff, shit getting real

Chapter summary: You wake up with Javi and realize you made a mistake...you woke up with Javi.

A/N: Hey babes!! Thank you for being so kind and patient with me! I promise I see each and every one of you who leave likes, comments, and reblogs on my fics, and I can't thank you enough for your support. It means the world to me! I hope you enjoy this chapter!

***

“Sweetheart, wake up.” 

You squint your closed eyes as you register a faint, but familiar, voice accompanied by a gentle hand rubbing slowly up and down your upper arm. You also recognise the feel of a body beneath yours, an equally familiar feeling.

Humming contentedly, you tuck yourself back onto Javi’s warm chest, feeling his arms tighten around you in return. A chaste kiss is pressed to the side of your head. The panic doesn’t even come until you register that it’s lighter outside than it should be. 

You prop yourself up as quickly as you can as a sense of dread consumes your body. It’s light outside. It’s morning. You slept in a field in the back of Javi’s truck when you told your parents that you would be home by 11:00pm the night before. They hadn’t even wanted you to go in the first place, which pissed you off because you’re a whole ass adult, but that didn’t mean you were going to purposely make them worry. 

Now you’re going to have to go home and get chewed out by your angry parents. At least they hadn’t been nosy enough to try to figure out where you were going, you’d be in some deep shit then. A pang of guilt joins the dread as you think about how much they would both disapprove of you hanging out with Javi, a man who was probably twice your age. You still haven’t asked him exactly how old he is, but you have your guesses. 

You whip around to see the man in question looking at you with a perplexed expression, obviously confused by your sudden energy. You don’t even have the mind to apologize as you begin collecting the things spread around in the bed of the truck to put yourself together. You push the sleeves of your dress up all the way and tug on your shoes. 

“I need to get home,” you tell him frantically, already hopping off of the truck and into the tall, dewy grass. You turn around to face him and see that he hasn’t moved to follow you. 

“Javi, please, I wasn’t supposed to stay out last night,” you try to keep from whining, but you need to get the point across. He furrows his brows but starts to sit up. 

“Well I wish you would have told me, I wouldn’t have let you fall asleep, sweetheart,” Javi says as he jumps out behind you, dragging the blanket out with him. 

You hum a little in affirmation, though you’re already distracted with opening the door to the cab and hopping in. You feel bad to have sprung this on him after he took the time to plan such a nice date out and hold you through the night, but you feel worse that your parents are probably worried sick right now. You’ll be a little surprised if they haven’t called the cops yet. 

Javi gets into the truck a second after you do, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he starts it up. He looks at you and you share a heavy stare. It makes you want to beam at him. The fact that he’s in the truck and willing to take you home, no questions asked and no hard feelings. 

The poor guy isn’t even fully awake yet, and he’s already having to deal with your shit. He doesn’t seem to mind at all, and the smirk he flashes your way says as much. It might be the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen, to be honest. You never though bed head could look so good on a person before. 

 Despite your anxiety right now, it makes butterflies stir in your stomach. Your cheeks start to pink after a moment as you recall last night. You had sex with Javi. As if the soreness of your cunt wasn’t enough of a reminder. And you’re his. You’re his girl. He’s yours.

“Sorry I didn’t say anything, I really didn’t think I was going to fall asleep,” you blurt, trying to find a different headspace so you don’t jump his bones and make yourself even more late. 

“It’s okay, honey. I should have asked if you needed to be home at a certain time.” 

You both smile lightly at each other before Javi puts the truck into first gear and begins to turn around. He rolls the windows down just enough to let a nice breeze in, and puts the radio on low as you make your way back down the path you took last night. 

You sit in a comfortable silence as you gaze out the window. The sun is up just enough to cast everything in a warm golden glow and reflect off of the morning dew still lingering from the night before. Birds are starting to chirp and there aren’t many people on the road. It’s a peaceful morning, and you can’t help but lean back and take a big sigh to appreciate it despite the ball of unease in your stomach. 

Javi glances your way as you rest your head back and let your eyes drop closedd, and extends his hand to rest reassuringly on your thigh. You smile and take it with your own, giving a small squeeze. 

“It’ll be okay, sweetheart.”

You nod, trying to believe that yourself.

“I hope so,” you tell him truthfully. 

Now it’s his turn to nod as he focuses back on the empty road. A song by Waylon Jennings comes on and you reach to turn it up just a little bit. Before long, you can’t help it, and allow yourself to sing along. Javi casts you a glance, smiling widely at your shenanigans. You can’t help but to smile back. Might as well enjoy your last ten minutes of freedom before your parents chain you to the floor. 

A couple of songs later, you're pulling into your driveway just enough for you to get out without Javi’s truck being seen. You had told him that it’s probably safest that way. Unless he wants to come face to face with your father’s shotgun. The first thing you notice is that there’s no cops around, so at least your parents didn’t go that far. 

You refreshed as much as you could in the truck, trying to smooth your hair down and re-adjust  your dress so you at the very least didn’t look like you just got fucked within an inch of your life the night before. 

Javi puts the truck in park and leans your way for you to meet him and plant a short kiss on his lips. You hum against him, savoring the plushness of his lips. You already miss the feeling even though you haven’t left yet.

“Thank you again for everything, Javi,” you tell him as you separate, wishing you didn’t have to go.

“Anytime for you, sweetheart,” he responds smoothly and flashes you a wink. Yeah, the smug bastard winks at you. 

Clearing your throat and trying to keep from melting to a puddle on the floorboards, you open up the door and slide out until your feet hit the rocks beneath you. 

“Call me later?” Javi cranes his neck slightly to ask as you’re shutting it behind you. 

“Sir, yes, sir,” you stand and salute with the most serious expression you can muster. He smiles and rolls his eyes playfully, reaching over to tug the door shut when you step back. 

“See you soon, bebita,” he says through the open window. 

“See you, Javi.”

A stupid grin stays slapped on your face as he backs out and drives off, leaving you with a delightful buzzing sensation spreading throughout your body. God, you’re so fucked. You wish you could just stay with him and not have to worry about people getting pissed. Why can’t your parents just not be overbearing for once? 

You never liked your curfew as a teen, but you’d understood it. But You’re fully grown now, and even though you’re living with them again, you don’t think they should be allowed to implement one at all. 

You huff and turn to walk up to the house, trying not to come in looking as guilty as you should. You’re not dumb enough to hope that your parents are still asleep. Even though it’s the weekend, they were probably up hours ago to start work around the farm. 

The main door is open, as you expected. You take a deep breath and pull open the screen door, which creaks loud enough to let everyone in the house—and quite possibly the entire state of Texas—that you’re home. You wince as you step inside.

You turn towards the kitchen as the door smacks shut against the frame behind you, but you’re stopped dead in your tracks when you see the pile of stuff stacked in the living room doorway. Your stuff. Your heart drops as you take in your suitcases and a few boxes all shoved into a pile by the entryway. 

Your body starts to shake as you fight the urge to pinch yourself. This isn’t happening. 

“You have until the end of the day to be out of here,” comes a voice from behind you. 

You turn on your heel, coming face to face with your mother and father walking out of the kitchen through the tears in your eyes. Your mom is drying her hands with a dish towel, and your father has a folded newspaper in his hand. They look like they would any other morning, but the pure anger and disgust on both of their faces contradicts that. 

It feels like someone grabbed your heart from your chest and slammed it on the ground to let it shatter into a million pieces. Never in your life would you ever have thought your own parents would look at you with such hatred in their eyes. 

“I-what-what’s going on? I-?” you stamper, your throat dry as you try to figure out where to start your questions. A tear slips down your cheek but you can’t find it in you to be embarrassed. 

“Got a call last night,” your mom says in a tone so laden in disappointment that it feels like a shank being sent into the center of your chest.. 

“Some man called to let us know that our daughter—our daughter—was whoring herself out last night.” 

Her voice is bitter but you can still see the mist that coats her own eyes even so. 

The shock on your face as you take a step back isn’t enough to prove your innocence. You’re guilty, they know you’re guilty. But how do they know? Who the fuck called them? You didn’t see a single other person last night aside from the car behind you when he was picking you up, and even then it would have been too dark to see what was going on.

“N-no, I–please,” you continue to struggle as you take a step toward them now, not sure of what to do with yourself. Are you supposed to deny it? Play dumb? Beg on your knees for forgiveness? You’re in disbelief, and for what may be the first time in your life, you’re lost. 

Even with your ex, you knew what your next plan of action was going to be each time he messed up. Even with that last straw, when you caught him with your best friend, you knew what you had to do. Not now. It feels like you’ll never have a clear enough head to know what to do now. 

“I don’t want a fucking explanation, I want you to get the fuck out of my house before I call the cops,” your father speaks up. You know deep inside that there’s no turning back now. Once he starts yelling, things are going to get a lot worse than they have to be, and you know he’s not going to change his mind. 

You spot a movement from above you through your blurry vision, and see your sister at the top of the stairs. You can’t see the look on her face, but it might be better not to know. You can handle it from your parents, but never from your baby sister. 

She’s looked up to you after all these years, the only one who never stopped believing in you. And you can’t help but feel like you failed her. You’re shaking uncontrollably, trying not to break down, but you can’t help it as she backs away and a choked sob leaves your lips. 

You call after her, but your dad shuts that down. 

“Don’t you fucking talk to her.” The slight raise in his voice makes you flinch. You want to scream, you want to fight, you want to believe that this is all a nightmare. But you don’t, and you know it’s not. You did this, now you have to live with the consequences. 

“L-let me use the phone?” you manage to squeak out despite the fact that you feel like your skin is getting too tight for your body, and the world is closing in, and your intestines are tangling themselves into tight knots. There’s a crushing pressure encapsulating your brain, but you try to ignore it even as it gets worse. 

Your dad steps aside, letting you in and then trailing behind you until you pick up the phone with a lump in your throat. You dial up the number you’ve come to memorize, and wait for those usual three rings before you’re greeted by a familiar voice that almost crushes you. 

You hear your nickname, and a small part of you perks up at the sound, but it’s still not enough to overpower the nauseating feeling in the pit of your stomach. Sucking in a breath, you try not to start sobbing. That will have to wait until you’re safe in his arms. You know he’ll let you get it all out. 

You don’t have anywhere else to go, nobody else to call. Having to call him in front of your parents might be the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done, but you don’t even consider that fact though your shallow breaths and the light ringing in your ears. 

“Javi?” you croak, not waiting for him to confirm. You know it’s him. You can sense his presence even through the phone line. “Can you come pick me up?”

***

Thank you so much for reading! Please consider interacting if you enjoyed this fic! <3

Fic tag list:  @corazondebeskar @yorksgirl @nerdieforpedro @axshadows @melaninmommy @survivingandenduring @kewwrites @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff @movievillainess721 @callachloe

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[cyncerity]

HAPPY 3 YEARS TO THIS BLOG!! 🎉💕🫶

i’m so happy i’ve been a part of this little community for as long as i have. everyone is super nice and inspiring and unbelievably talented, and im so glad to be posting content with people like y’all.

it’s absurd to think i’ve been doing this for 3 years and that i almost have 800 people here seeing it, but the love and support i’ve received over these years has been incredible. given that this is such a small community and i’ve either spoken with most of you or have at the very least interacted with your content, i feel confident in saying that every single person here is incredible in their own right and truly are the reason i stay here. you guys are genuinely the best, even if i forget to answer your asks or sometimes leave you on read for a while (i do that with everyone i’m so sorry) i mean it when i say that i do consider a good portion of you my friends. even if it’s been a while since we messaged or talked, you’re all awesome. and if i don’t know you personally, please feel free to message me! i love making friends, especially in a community like this that has time and time again proven to have some of the genuinely nicest people on the internet <3

i love writing and drawing and i’m not leaving here for a long while yet. the asks i’ve received saying that i inspired people to write, draw, or post are some of the nicest things i’ve ever received, and i truly mean it from the bottom of my heart when i say that those have changed my life. the self confidence and love for my craft that i’ve gained from being here is immeasurable, and that’s thanks to all of you, whether you’ve been here for years or are new to this blog.

given that this is an anniversary thing, i wanna thank @bittydragon, @baka-monarch, @wendy130, @darkeninganon, and @awesome-slime-lover for introducing me to this community. i was stalking their blogs on google far before i had an account here, and i only made an account so i could send them fanart, so you have them to thank for dragging me here lmao

i also wanna tag @plant-gt-thought-box, @kayla-crazy-stuffs, @blurrybunnie, @apersonstories, @funtimemoth, @mysticalblue09, @corysmiles, @pixy-stix-art, + some others who are not on tumblr anymore for being friends with me and actually being some of the kindest and funniest motherfuckers. Ik i haven’t spoken to some of you in forever, and i hope this isn’t coming off as parasocial, but you guys are awesome and i wish you nothing but the best (and if you wanna message more or get on vc again some time please lmk cause i am a social wuss)

and if i’m gonna list people i might as well tag the people who even if i don’t know as well, are all super talented and leave me marveling at everything they post on here (whether or not you post mcyt g/t anymore, you’re all still incredible creators who make me want to improve my own work): @eyes-eye-eyes (my /p wife <3), @wren-writes68, @jkknight98, @arc852, @brick-a-doodle-do, @oh-i-need-a-name, @quotemenevervore, @melissa-s23, @i-am-beckyu, @random-tinies, @archaxwii, @itty-bitty-rainbow, @goosedawn, @beansthough, @make-a-memory, @aslitheryprinx, @avengerofsquids, @thatoneteadrinker666, @shushiyuii, @x-pair-o-dice-x, @jammanthejam, @trouble-off-grid, @lunar-but-little, @frickfrackiwastakingabath, @chequered-career, @bio-nerds-corner, @dingbatnix, @cottoncandythetrashpanda, @sprite-addicted-artist, @colossal-red, @sheena-yuet, @quackxolotl, @local-squishmallow, @nobodywritingao3, @deity-of-keys, @astraymetronome, @a-xyz-s, and tumblr has now told me that i’ve hit the max of 50 mentions so i will have to reblog this with the rest of you (crazy to think that there’s that many of y’all but i really do want to shout out everyone) (also if you’re one of these blogs that doesn’t post mcyt anymore and don’t want yourself associated with it, just lmk and i will remove your tag from my list, just know that your previous work in this community was admired and appreciated <3)

also can’t forget the anons and the followers that aren’t outwardly a part of this community (don’t have g/t blogs, don’t have mcyt blogs, or just don’t post in general). i’m lucky enough that i’ve never received hate from an anon before, everything you guys have ever sent is so nice and you also have great ideas! I am so sorry if it takes me forever to share those ideas publicly, but know that each of you are appreciated. and for my followers, i truly wouldn’t be anywhere without you guys, so thank you for supporting me <3

anyway, i might be getting over sentimental about all this, but 3 years is a long time, and over that time i’ve grown very attached to this little group of creators and i just wanted to let you know how loved and appreciated you are

💕💖🫶💕✨

#cyncerity #mcyt gt #mcyt g/t #if i SOMEHOW forgot you in the tags please note: #i will be reblogging later with more people #i have a list of people to add to the reblog hsksksksh #if i forget you on THAT it’s most likely not because i don’t know who you are but because i’m dumb 👍 #*and thought i added you #mcyt g/t community

[daddyy333]

Sensitive | Lo’ak x fem!omaticaya!reader

if you’d like you can reblog my original work, but please don’t post it without credit. if you take inspiration from my ideas please tag me, I’d like to see how someone else would write it

word count: 2.9k

warnings: readers very insecure and shy, reader was technically bullied as a kid, ?

summary: Y/n was always told she was overdramatic and sensitive growing up, so she kept quiet and didn’t tell anyone when something bothered her. Now, watching her mate potentially fall in love with another woman, she’s too worried about overreacting and refuses to say anything until eventually she can’t handle it anymore.

anything in bold like this in the middle of a sentence means it’s either Na’vi or meant to be in Na’vi but I don’t trust the translation websites so I just use the few words I know and make do with it💀

“It’s just a joke”

“You’re too sensitive”

“It doesn’t even matter”

“Why do you care so much?”

“You’re overreacting”

Your whole life, you’ve always been sensitive. It wasn’t hard to bring you down or upset you. You were always overthinking every little thing, analyzing every word a person said and the way they said it. You wished you were different, every single day you tried to stop caring so much but you couldn’t help it.

By the time you turned 18, you were quieter than a mouse. You only talked around your few friends, and even then you didn’t say too much in fear of seeming too sensitive. When something bothered you, you just stayed quiet and kept it to yourself.

Lo’ak thought you were just shy. You were really quiet all the time, but he was so attracted to you; he just had to get to know you. You really loved Lo’ak, more than anything on Pandora. He was so nice to you, and you trusted him and opened up to him a little, and he still accepted you fully.

You didn’t tell him everything though, you didn’t want to ruin something so good. You’d be heartbroken if Lo’ak left you so you made sure you were careful with what you said and how you reacted.

You mated before Eywa and it was a beautiful experience. You both took your time learning each other's bodies and making each other feel good. You were close to opening up all the way after that night, but you were still worried he wouldn’t accept you and all your flaws.

2 years later, you had to leave the forest and it terrfied you. You couldn’t help it then, you burst into tears and cried through it all. The forest was your home. This was where you felt safest. This was where you fell in love, where you were meant to be.

Lo’ak seemed to understand your worries though, and you were thankful. He held you as you cried, wiping your tears and helping you say goodbye to everyone. He felt bad when he could see tears flowing down your face as you rode your ikrans out of the forest.

You made it the Metkayina’s territory and naturally they got defensive and began to try and intimidate you, and the worst part was that it worked. Lo’ak could feel you shaking and he felt bad, wrapping his tail around your thigh and trying to comfort you as best he could.

You noticed Lo’ak look over at a young woman, but he quickly returned his attention to Olo’eyktan and Tsahík again. You looked over at her, ears turned down as you realized how much prettier she was than you.

You tried to ignore it, but when she was one of the Na’vi meant to tutor you guys, it made it hard to forget about it. You were worried Lo’ak would fall for her instead. She was very very pretty, and her voice was smooth and melodic, with the most gorgeous eyes ever too.

Lo’ak was attached to you at the hip the first few weeks. It helped reassure you that he was yours, always. He would always have an around wrapped around you or his fingers intertwined with yours, or at the very least have his tail caressing your back or wrapped around your leg or arms.

But he slowly started getting closer to Tsireya. He’d go sit next to her during lessons and you always sat next to him so you’d follow, and over time you could see the two of them giggling together whenever you took breaks, and she was so touchy in ways she wasn’t with everyone else. At least that’s how it seemed.

You were honestly a little heartbroken, you really hoped he wasn’t like that. You don’t know what you’d do if he asked for a second wife. It’d kill you. The worst part, she’s been trying to be friends with you.

You don’t want to be mean, so you indulge in whatever it is she wants. You’re actually quite close, you tell her lots of things and she actually helps you learn the way of the Metkayina quite a lot. It seems like she tries to talk about Lo’ak a lot, which sucks because it only convinces you more and more that they’re going to get involved any day now.

Lo’ak seems a little distant as time goes on. He’s not making love to you a lot, leaving you lying awake in the late hours of the night trying to ignore your arousal, even with your mate right next to you. He only really makes love to you when your in heat or when he is in rut, but it’s always rough and not as sweet because it’s the only way to relieve the pain.

He also sits with Tsireya a lot at dinner. Or he’ll tell her to come sit with you guys. You come close to snapping and telling him just how much it’s bothering you countless times but you don’t want to risk being seen as dramatic.

You find out you’re pregnant and initially you were overjoyed, excited to become a mother and forever grateful to Eywa for this gift. But then your heart sinks. How would Lo’ak react? You were worried about everything now. Would he still love you after all the changes your body was about to go through? Would he be even more distant?

When you told him he nearly screamed, picking you up and jumping around out of pure excitement. He threw you over his shoulder, making you scream as he ran out to the main gathering place for the clan and said “I’m going to be a father!”

The surrounding people laughed and congratulated you guys, and when his family came out, he ran to them and said “you’re going to be grandparents!” And instantly had Neytiri sobbing. He finally put you down and you groaned, nauseous from all the movement.

You were less worried realizing how excited he was, and it seemed like things got better after that. He was always taking you on dates, rubbing your bump and talking to the baby constantly, helping you through your morning sickness when he could, and he was always hunting and bringing you your favorite foods to keep you strong and healthy.

You concluded that maybe he was a bit distant the last few months, but you’d be okay now that you were about to become parents and he was so present now. Obviously he still spent time with Tsireya, which you didn’t mind, but every now and then you had your doubts.

He took you on a date night, preparing a sweet dish for you since all you wanted to eat were sweet things and took you swimming with Payakan, telling him how the baby was kicking now and showing off your bump. You rolled your eyes playfully at Lo’ak, he was convinced that your bump got bigger every single day.

Payakan let you guys rest on his back and watch the stars until you got tired and fell asleep cuddled in Lo’ak’s arms. He smiled softly, pressing a kiss to your cheek. He fell asleep not that long after, keeping his hand on your bump to hopefully soothe your very active baby and keep it from kicking you all night.

When he woke up, you were still sleeping peacefully, being spooned by him as you mumbled softly in your sleep. He smiled to himself, kissing your head and caressing your bump. He felt the little one move slightly and he couldn’t help it as he blushed a little.

He spent a few minutes with you before he got up and had payakan bring you closer to the island and told him to wake up at sunrise if he wasn’t already there. He got to the island and prepared all his things to hunt for your favorite things right now and spent about 2 hours hunting.

He came back with tons of food, enough to last you a few days and immediately woke up Tsireya to help him cook it the way you liked. He wanted to celebrate today, as it was your 3 year anniversary and you were already halfway through your pregnancy. He was so excited, he almost wanted to leave Tsireya to finish cooking so he could go spend time with you.

You woke up to Payakan moving wildly and you quickly walked over to where he could see you to calm him down. The sun was halfway up, and you realized Lo’ak wasn’t with you anymore. You frowned slightly and noticed Payakan bringing you close to the island so you assumed Lo’ak was already there.

You greeted Jake and Neytiri as you happened to walk past them on the way to your marui pod and of course had to let Tuk talk to the baby for a few minutes and let them feel the little one kick. Tuk was so so so excited for the baby to come, she was asking almost every day if the baby would be here soon.

You eventually continued your journey to your home and when you got closer you heard some laughter and giggling. You recognized Lo’aks laugh but there was someone else’s. You listened for a few more seconds and realized it was Tsireya.

Every insecurity came flooding back and tears filled your eyes. Was this his plan the whole time? To have you sleeping quite literally across the ocean so he could spend time with her in your home.

You opened the flap and she was next to him, holding his hands trying to show him how to grind up these herbs properly. You scoffed and said “Lo’ak…” He immediately looked up and his eyes widened.

He smiled and said “hi, baby! How are you feeling?” “W-Why is she here?” You asked quietly, tears in your eyes. He furrowed his eyebrows and said “she’s just helping me make you breakfast. I’m making all your favorites today, and she’s a better cook than I am so I needed her to help me”

You bit your lip and shook your head, you didn’t buy it. No way she was just here to cook and that was it. You turned around and left, going to the spot you and Lo’ak always go to to spend time together alone and uninterrupted.

Tsireya looked up and said “is everything okay?” “I- I-I don’t know. Do you think I should follow her?” He asked and Tsireya thought for a moment, nodding. He quickly thanked her and went out looking for you.

It took him a while to figure out where you’d gone, but once he did he was running as fast as he could. He got to your secret spot and found you crying, leaning against the rock you two always sat by.

“Baby…y/n, hey hey what’s wrong?” He said and you sniffled. You wiped your tears quickly and said “nothing. I’m fine, I’m just overreacting, it's nothing” “no, no honey. Hey, look at me. Talk to me,” he said and you looked up at him, eyes wet and nose tinted pink from crying.

“I just…y-you’ve gotten really close to Tsireya lately and I…I’m worried that- t- t-that uhm…” you said and stopped yourself shaking your head. He sighed and said “you’re worried I’m unfaithful?” You let out a small sob and said “I-it’s not that I don’t trust you- I-I just I can’t help it sometimes. I know it’s stupid! Just go away”

“Why do you think I’m cheating?” He asked, wiping your tears. You let out a shaky breath and said “well y-…you guys are just always really close. You used to always w-want to sit with her at dinner, a-and sometimes you used to choose to be with her instead of me. E-Everytime Tsireya and I talk she wants to know about you and our relationship”

“It’s not what you think, my love. I…I asked Tsireya to get close to you so she could tell me how you were feeling about our relationship and know what to work on to keep you happy. I- I-I know you’re very quiet and shy and I know if I ask you directly you’ll tell me everything is fine so I needed someone else’s help” he said and you gasped slightly, burying your head in your hands.

He pulled you into his arms, stroking your back and letting you cry. “It’s okay, babe. I know you were just worried about our relationship, and you had every right to be. I can understand that it might’ve looked a certain way from the outside” he said and you shook your head.

“I-I was being sensitive and overdramatic like always” you whimpered and he sighed. He kissed your head and said “why do you talk so poorly of yourself, my love? I don’t think that about you, no one does” “That’s not true…” you said and he furrowed his eyebrows yet again.

He pulled you from his chest to look in your eyes and said “who tells you these things?” “I…when I was a child, I-I used to be made fun of a lot. Even m-my parents would make comments. Everyone a-around me felt that way. I just stay quiet now, s-so no one gets upset at me anymore” you said and he shook his head.

He kissed you softly and said “let me see…please?” He grabbed his kuru and you looked up at him nervously. You nodded and grabbed yours, connecting them. You took a deep, shaky breath and he kissed your forehead, caressing your hand with his thumb. You let him see everything, every memory you had of it all.

“Oh sweetheart,” he said, tears in his eyes. “You didn’t deserve that. Honey, you aren’t overreacting, you have real concerns and worries and I want you to tell me all of them. Don’t ever shy away from talking to me and telling me how you feel. We are about to become parents, don’t you think we shouldn’t keep secrets?”

You nodded and he smiled sadly, kissing you softly. “Why uhm…w-why…” you said quietly and stopped yourself. He could hear your thoughts through tsaheylu, you were wondering why Tsireya was there making breakfast with him.

He shook his head and said “because today's our 3 year anniversary and you're halfway through growing our little princess” You smiled and sniffled. You chuckled and hugged him.

He rubbed your back and said “you’ll never have to worry about me hurting you. I never will. If I did, I promise you it was never intentional and I’ll apologize every single day for the rest of my life” “you’re a really good husband, you know” you said, sniffling softly.

“I try,” he chuckled. He kissed you a few times, nuzzling his nose against yours. You smiled and said “oel ngati kameie, ma muntxatan” “oel ngati kameie” he said and nuzzled his nose against yours once more.

You giggled and said “you know, the baby is realllly hungry” “is she?” He asked and you rolled your eyes.

“We do not know if it is a girl yet,” you said and he chuckled. He rubbed your bump and said “I just know it is. She’s my little princess. And you’re my queen” “what's uhm…what’s a queen again?” You asked and he chuckled.

You still forgot human concepts here and there which he found adorable. “Like an Earth Tsahík. But way less cool” he said and you nodded, giggling. He stood up and he held his hand out to help you up.

He brought you back to your pod and Tsireya looked up and noticed your slightly reddened nose and cheeks and your still slightly teary eyes. “Oh…oh my, are you okay? Is it the baby? Is something wrong? We should get you to my mother” she said and you shook your head.

“I’m okay, Reya. The baby’s okay too. See?” You said and placed her hand on your stomach where they were kicking softly. You hugged her and she gasped a little, looking at Lo’ak as she hugged you back.

Lo’ak waved his hand dismissively and then gave a thumbs up. She rubbed your back and said “here, have some breakfast. I hope you like it” “mmm, you guys better get some while you can because it’s not gonna be here for long” you said and chuckled to yourself.

Lo’ak smiled at you as you made yourself a place and said “she was just worried that I was unfaithful because of how much time we spend together” They both giggled quietly to each other.

“I should’ve known,” she said and sighed. He shook his head and said “no, no its okay. As much as I wish she didn’t feel that way for so long, some good things came out of it” “like what?” Tsireya asked. Lo’ak bit his lip in thought and said “it’s kind of between us,”

“Ah, I see. Well, take good care of her and write out instructions for lunch and dinner for you while you eat” she said and patted his shoulder, quickly leaving the pod. He smiled to himself and wrapped his arms around your waist, kissing your neck.

You hummed and held a piece of fruit behind you for him to eat. “Come on, let’s eat on the shore” he said and you brought your plate out with you as he dragged you out of the pod, forcing you to sit in between his legs as you both watched the sun fully rise and relaxed together.

Taglist: @laylasbunbunny @goddesslilithmoriarty

As of now l'm writing for

Eddie Munson

Lo’ak

Neteyam

So just comment the taglist you want to be added to and l'll add you :)

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